University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—Rich apartment at Mrs. Stephen Foster's, late the Widow Welsted.
Enter Mrs. Stephen Foster, R.
Mrs. Steph.
(C.)
I've made a speedy choice and a swift marriage.
Well, be it as it will, I like the man.
Enter Clown, L.
Now fool, where is thy master?

Clown.
In the counting-house, tumbling over his money bags.
You shall hear of him in the bowling alley again shortly.

Mrs. Steph.
Why, sir, all's his, and at his own dispose.
Who shall dare thwart him?

Clown.
Here he comes.

[Goes back.
Enter Stephen, L. richly apparelled, with a handful of Bills and Bonds.
Mrs. Steph.
Why, how now, sweetheart? What hast there, I pray?

Steph.
(C.)
I find much debts belonging to you, sweet,
And my care now must be to fetch them in.

Mrs. S.
(C.)
Your care! Ha! ha! Do not mistake thyself,
Nor my true purpose. Sir, I did not wed
To thrall or bind thy large expense, but rather
To add a plenty to't. I thought, ere this,
Thou would'st have stuff'd thy pockets full of gold,
And thrown it at a hazard—made ducks and drakes,
And bated fishes with thy silver flies;
Lost and fetch'd more. Why, this had been my joy;
Nay, had'st thou wasted all.

Steph.
Content thee, sweet,
Those days are gone, even from my memory;
I have forgot that I e'er had such follies,
And I'll not call 'em back: my cares are bent
To keep your state, and give you happiness.
Sirrah, [To Clown.]
go, call your fellow-servants up,
And to my chamber bring all books of debt;
I will o'erlook, and cast up all accounts,
That I may know the true weight of our substance,
And once a year give up my stewardship.

[Goes back.
Mrs. Steph.
(C.)
Astonishment!

Clown.
(C.) [Aside to her.]

Now you may see what
hasty matching is: you had thought to have been
vex'd, and now you cannot. You've married a husband,
that now being my master-in-law, will, I do
think, prove the most miserable, covetous rascal that
ever beat beggar from his gate. But 'tis no matter—
Time was when you were fairly offer'd if you would
have taken it. You might have had other matches, and
those that would have cross'd you. I would have sold
away all you had—have turn'd you out of doors, and
used you like a woman. Whereas now, if you hang
yourself you can have none of these blessings. But its
well enough—now you must take what follows.

[Exit Clown, R.
Mrs. Steph.
Will the tide never turn?
[Crosses to R.
Was ever woman
Thus burden'd with increasing happiness?
I married him to waste my goods, and he
Strives to augment them.

[He comes down in C.
Enter Robert, L.
Steph.
Oh, nephew, are you come?
How does your father use you? Is your name
Again found in his books?

Rob.
(L. C.)
'Tis blotted quite!
For by the cruel instigation of
My step-mother, his vows and oaths are stamp'd
Never to call or bless me as his child.

Steph.
Grieve not, kind coz, that father lost at home
You shall find here—for his inheritance
You meet another amply proffer'd you—
Be my adopted son—no more my kinsman.
[To his Wife.]
So that this borrowed bounty do not stray
From your consent?

Mrs. Steph.
[Turns to C.]
Call it not borrowed, sir, 'tis all your own!
Let him be largely texted in your love.
He is our child by the most free adoption.

Steph.
(C.)
Thanks, sweetest.

Rob.
You were born to bless us both—
My knee shall ever practise a son's duty;
Yet not forgetting that I owe my father,
Whene'er I meet him he shall have it too,
Although his blessing ne'er return to me.

Steph.
Come then, my son; be thou my deputy,
The factor and disposer of my business;
Keep my accounts, and order my affairs—
They must all be your own. For you, sweet wife,
Be merry—take your pleasure, here abroad—
Visit your neighbours—to the country ride;
If you have troubles, throw them all aside,
And I will take them up.—'Tis fit that weight
Should now be all on me. Take thou the height
Of quiet and content. Let nothing grieve thee:
I brought thee nothing else, and that I'll give thee.

[Goes off embracing, Robert following.—Exeunt, R.