With all his wrongs and injuries about him, Armed with his cut-throat practices to guard him, The right that I bring with me will defend me, 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

Any 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,

But neither wax nor words. How? thunderstruck!

Not a syllable to insult with? My wise uncle, Is this your precious evidence, this that makes Your interest clear?

Over. I am o'erwhelmed with wonder! What prodigy is this? What subtle devil Hath razed out the inscription? the wax Turned into dust!--the rest of my deeds whole As when they were deliver'd, and this only Made nothing! Do you deal with witches, rascal? There's a statute for you, which will bring Your neck in a hempen circle; yes, there is; And now, 'tis better thought; for, cheater, know This juggling shall not save you.

Well. To save thee,

Would beggar the stock of mercy. Over. Marrall.

Mar. Sir.

Over. Tho' the witnesses are dead,

Your testimony

[Flattering him.

Help with an oath or two; and for thy master,
Thy liberal master, my good honest servant,
I know you will swear any thing to dash
This cunning sleight: besides, I know thou art
A public notary, and such stands in law
For a dozen witnesses; the deed being drawn too
By thee, my careful Marrall, and delivered
When thou wert present, will make good my
title.

Wilt thou not swear this?

Mar. I! no, I assure you.

I have a conscience, not seared up like yours; I know no deeds.

Over. Wilt thou betray me?

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, Can now anatomize you, and lay open

All your black plots, level with the earth Your hill of pride- -and with these gabions guarded,

Unload my great artillery, and shake,

Lady How he foams at the mouth with rage! Well. To him again.

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 practices you used to cozen with
An army of whole families, who yet live,
And but enrolled for soldiers, were able
To take in Dunkirk.

Over. How!

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-

me,

Think on it and tremble!-[Loud music.]-They come; I hear the music.

A lane there for my lord!
Well. This sudden heat

May yet be cooled, sir.

Öner. Make way there, for my lord!

Enter ALLWORTH, MARGARET, LOVELL, and Lady.

Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing, with

Your full allowance of the choice I have made.
As ever you could make use of your reason,
Grow not in passion; since you may as well
Call back the day that's past, as untie the knot
Which is too strongly fastened;
Not to dwell too long on words,
This is my husband.

[Kneeling.

All. So I assure you; all the rites of marriage,

With every circumstance, are past: Alas, sir!
Although I am no lord, but a lord's page,
Your daughter, and my loved wife, mourns not
for it;

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?

Is not this your letter, sir? and these the words→→→ Marry her to this gentleman ?

Over. It cannot :

Nor will I e'er believe it, 'death! I will not;
That I, that in all passages I touched
At worldly profit have not left a 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

Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste
A syllable, but thus I take the life,
Which, wretch! I gave to thee.

[Offers to kill MARGARET. Lov. Hold, for your own sake! Though charity to your daughter hath quite left

you,

Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here,

Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter?
Consider; at the best you're but a man,
And cannot so create your aims, but that
They may be cross'd.

Over. Lord! thus I spit at thee,
And at thy counsel; and again desire thee,
As thou art a soldier, if thy valour

Dares shew itself where multitude and example
Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change
Six words in private,

Lov. I am ready.

Lady. Stay, sir; contest with one distracted!
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 hemm'd in thus.
Since, like a Libyan lion in the toil,

My fury cannot reach the coward hunters, And only spends itself, I'll quit the place: Alone, I can do nothing, but I have servants And friends to second me; and if I make not

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. {Exeant omnes.