صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Over. I thank you, I can write then.

[Writes on his book. Allw. You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord,

In respect he comes disguised, and only write, Marry her to this gentleman.

Over. Well advised. [MARGARET kneels. 'Tis done; away-my blessing, girl? thou hast it. Nay, no reply-be gone, good Mr Allworth; This shall be the best night's work you ever made. Allw. I hope so, sir.

[Exeunt ALLWORTH and MARGARET. Over. Farewell! Now all's sure.

Methinks, I hear already knights and ladies
Say, sir Giles Overreach, how is it with
Your honourable daughter? has her honour
Slept well to-night? or, will her honour please
To accept this monkey, dog, or paroquet?
(This is state in ladies) or my eldest son
To be her page, and wait upon her trencher?-
My ends, my ends are compassed!—then for
Wellborn

And the lands; were he once married to the widow

I have him here-I can scarce contain myself,
I am so full of joy! nay, joy all over! [Exit.

ACT V.

SCENE I-A chamber in LADY ALLWORTH'S Presented me with this great favour,

house.

Enter LOVELL and LADY.

Lady. By this, you know how strong the motives were,

That did, my lord, induce me to dispense
A little with my gravity, to advance

The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn.

Lov. What you intended, madam,

For the poor gentleman, hath found good success;
For, as I understand, his debts are paid,
And he once more furnished for fair employ-

ment:

But all the arts, that I have used to raise
The fortunes of your joy and mine, young All-
worth,

Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well.
For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant
Than their years can promise; and for their de-
sires,

On my knowledge they equal.

Lady. Though my wishes

Are with yours, my lord, yet give me leave to fear

The building, though well grounded. To deceive

Sir Giles, that's both a lion and a fox

In his proceedings, were a work beyond
The strongest undertakers; not the trial
Of two weak innocents.

Lov. Despair not, madam :

Hard things are compassed oft by easy means.
The cunning statesman, that believes he fathoms
The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth,
Is, by simplicity, oft overreached.

Lady. May be so.

The young ones have my warmest wishes.
Lov. O, gentle lady, let them prove kind to
me!

You've kindly heard-now grant my suit.
What say you, lady?

Lady. Troth, my lord,

My own unworthiness may answer for me;
For had you, when I was in my prime,

I could not but have thought it as a blessing,
Far, far beyond my merit.

Lov. You are too modest,

And undervalue that, which is above
My title, or whatever I call mine. In a word,
Our years, our states, our births, are not unequal.
If, then, you may be won to make me happy,
But join your hand to mine, and that shall be
A solemn contract.

Lady. I were blind to my own good,
Should I refuse it; yet, my lord, receive me
As such a one, the study of whose whole life
Shall know no other object but to please you.

Lov. If I return not, with all tenderness, Equal respect to you, may I die wretched!

Lady. There needs no protestation, my lord, To her, that cannot doubt-You are welcome, sir. Enter WELLBORN,

Now, you look like yourself.

Well, And will continue
Such in my free acknowledgement, that I am
Your creature, madam, and will never hold
My life mine own, when you please to demand it.
Lov. It is a thankfulness, that well becomes
you;

You could not make choice of a better shape
To dress your mind in.

Lady. For me, I am happy,

That my endeavours prospered. Saw you, of late, Sir Giles, your uncle?

Well. I heard of him, madam,

By his minister, Marrall: he's grown into strange

passions

About his daughter. This last night he looked

[blocks in formation]

I'll bore thine eyes out else.

Well. May it please your lordship,

For some ends of my own, but to withdraw A little out of sight, though not of hearing; You may, perhaps, have sport.

Lov. You shall direct me.

Over. I shall sol fa you, rogue!

Mar. Sir, for what cause

Do you use me thus?

[Steps aside.

Over. Cause, slave! why, I am angry, And thou a subject only fit for beating; And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing; Let but the seal be broke upon the box, That has slept in my cabinet these three years, I'll rack thy soul for it.

Mar. I may yet cry quittance; Though now I suffer, and dare not resist. [Aside. Over. Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady?

And the lord her husband? Are they in your house?

If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy;
And, as an entrance to her place of honour,
See your ladyship on her left hand, and inake

curt'sies

When she nods on you; which you must receive

As a special favour.

Lady. When I know, sir Giles,

[blocks in formation]

him;

Her state requires such ceremony, I shall pay it; The right I bring with me will defend me,

But, in the mean time,

I give you to understand, I neither know

Nor care where her honour is.

Over. When you once see her

Supported, and led by the lord her husband,
You'll be taught better-Nephew!
Well. Well!

Over. No more!

Well. 'Tis all I owe you.

Over. Have your redeemed rags

Made you thus insolent?

Well. Insolent to you!

[In scorn.

Why, what are you, sir, more than myself?
Over. His fortune swells him :

'Tis rank, he is married.

Lady. This is excellent!

Over. Sir, in calm language (though I seldom
use it),

I am familiar with the cause, that makes you
Bear up thus bravely; there's a certain buz
Of a stolen marriage; Do you hear? of a stolen
marriage;

In which, 'tis said, there's somebody hath been cozened.

I name no parties.

[Lady turns away. Well. Well, sir, what follows? Over. Marry this, since you are peremptory, remember,

Upon mere hope of your great match, I lent you
A thousand pounds; put me in good security,
And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute,
Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you

And punish his extortion.
Over. That I had thee
But single in the field!

Lady. You may; but make not
My house your quarrelling scene.
Over. Were it in a church,
By Heaven and hell, I'll do it!
Mar. Now, put him to

The shewing of the deed.

Well. This rage is vain, sir;

For fighting, fear not, you shall have your hands

full

Upon the least incitement; and whereas
You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds;
If there be law (howe'er you have no conscience)
Either restore my land, or I'll recover

A debt, that is truly due to me from you,
In value ten times more than what you challenge.
Over. I in thy debt! oh impudence! Did I

not purchase

The land left by thy father? that rich land,
That had continued in Wellborn's name
Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool,

Enter Servant, with a box.

Thou didst make sale of? Is not here inclosed
The deed, that does confirm it mine?
Mar. Now, now.

Well. I do acknowledge none; I ne'er passed
o'er

Such land; I grant, for a year or two,
You had it in trust; which, if you do discharge,

Surrendering the possession, you shall ease
Yourself and me, of chargeable suits in law;
Which, if you prove not honest (as I doubt it),
Must, of necessity, follow.

Lady. In my judgment,
He does advise you well.

Over. Good, good! conspire

With your new husband, lady; second him
In his dishonest practices; but, when
This manor is extended to my use,

Mar. Keep him

From using of his hands, I'll use my tongue
To his no little torment.

Over. Mine own varlet
Rebel against me?

Mar. Yes, and uncase you too.

The ideot; the patch; the slave; the booby;
The property, fit only to be beaten

For your morning exercise; your football, or
The unprofitable lump of flesh, your drudge,

You'll speak in an humble key, and sue for fa- Can now anatomize you, and lay open

vour.

[blocks in formation]

All your black plots, level with the earth
Your hill of pride, and shake,

Nay, pulverize, the walls, you think defend you.
Lady. How he foams at the mouth with rage!
Over. O that I had thee in my gripe! I would
tear thee
Joint after joint!

Mar. I know you are a tearer.
But I'll have first your fangs pared off; and then
Come nearer to you; when I have discovered,
And made it good before the judge, what ways
And devilish practises, you used to cozen with.
Over. But that I will live, rogue, to torture
thee,

And make thee wish and kneel in vain to die;
These swords, that keep thee from me, should
fix here,

Although they made my body but one wound,
But I would reach thee.

I play the fool, and make my anger but ridicu-
lous.

There will be a time, and place, there will be, cowards!

When you shall feel what I dare do.

Well. I think so:

You dare do any ill, yet want true valour
To be honest and repent.

Over. They are words I know not,

Nor e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue,
Shall find no harbour here-After these storms,
At length a calm appears.

Enter GREEDY and Parson WELLDO.

Welcome, most welcome!

There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed done?
Is my daughter married? say but so, my chaplain,
And I am tame.

Welldo. Married? yes, I assure you.

Over. Then vanish all sad thoughts! there's
more gold for thee.

My doubts and fears are in the titles drowned
Of my right honourable, right honourable daugh-

[blocks in formation]

To my wish, to my wish. Now, you that plot | Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and

[blocks in formation]

LADY.

change

Six words in private.
Lov. I am ready.

Well. You'll grow like him,
Should you answer his vain challenge.
Over. Are you pale?

Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds,
I'll stand against both, as I am hem'd in thus.
Say they were a squadron

Of pikes, lined through with shot, when I am

mounted

Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them?

Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your bles-No: I'll thro' the battalia, and, that routed, sing, with

Your full allowance of the choice I have made.
Not to dwell too long on words,

This is my husband.
Over. How!

[Kneeling.

Allw. So, I assure you; all the rites of mar-
riage,

With every circumstance, are past;
And for right honourable son-in-law, you may say
Your dutiful daughter.

Over. Devil! are they married?

Welldo. Do a father's part, and say, Heaven give them joy!

Over. Confusion and ruin! speak, and speak quickly,

Or thou art dead.

Welldo. They are married.

Over. Thou hadst better

Have made a contract with the king of fiends
Than these. My brain turns!

Welldo. Why this rage to me?

I'll fall to execution.-Ha! I am feeble:
Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,
And takes away the use of't! and my sword,
Glewed to my scabbard with wronged orphans'
tears,

Will not be drawn. Ha! what are these? Sure,
hangmen,

That come to bind my hands, and then to drag

me

Before the judgment-seat.-Now they are new
shapes,

And do appear like furies, with steel whips,
To scourge my ulcerous soul! Shall I then fall
Ingloriously, and yield? No: spite of fate
I will be forced to hell like to myself;
Tho' you were legions of accursed spirits,
Thus would I fly among you.-

[Dragged off by ORDER and AMBLE. Mar. Is't brave sport?

Greedy. Brave sport? I'm sure it has taken away my stomach.

Is not this your letter, sir? and these the words- I do not like the sauce.

Marry her to this gentleman?

Over. It cannot;

Nor will I ever believe it: 'sdeath! I will not.
That I, that in all passages I touched

At worldly profit have not left print
Where I have trod, for the most curious search
To trace my footsteps, should be gulled by
children!

Baffled and fooled, and all my hopes and labours
Defeated and made void!

Well. As it appears,

You are so, my grave uncle.

Over. Village nurses

Mar. Was it not a rare trick,

(An't please your worship) to make the deed nothing?

Certain minerals I used,

Incorporated in the ink and wax.

Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me
With hopes and blows; and that was the induce-

ment

To this conundrum.

Well. You are a rascal. He, that dares be
false

To a master, tho' unjust, will ne'er be true
To any other. Look not for reward,

Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight

[blocks in formation]

comfort.

[TO MARG.

Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take | It is a time of action; if your lordship
Will please to confer a company upon me
In your command, I doubt not, in my service
To my king and country, but I shall do some-
thing,

I will endeavour you shall be his guardians
In his distraction: and for your land, Mr. Well-
born,

Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire
Between you, and this the undoubted heir
Of sir Giles Overreach; for me, here's the
anchor

[blocks in formation]

That may make me right again.
Lov. Your suit is granted,
And you loved for the motion.

Well. Nothing wants, then, [To the audience.
But your allowance-and, in that, our all
Is comprehended; it being known, nor we,
Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free
Without your manumission; which, if you
Grant willingly, as a fair favour due
The poet's and our labours, as you may,
(For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play)
We jointly shall profess your grace hath might
To teach us action, and him how to write.

[Exeunt omnes.

« السابقةمتابعة »