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Scena vltima.
Alworth. Margaret.Alworth.
Whither to yeeld the first praise to my Lord's
Vnequall'd temperance, or your constant sweetnesse,
That I yet liue, my weake hands fasten'd on.
Hopes anchor, spite of all stormes of Despaire,
I yet rest doubtfull.
Marg.
Giue it to Lord Louell.
For what in him was bounty, in mee's duty.
I make but payment of a debt, to which
My vowes in that high office registred,
Are faithfull witnesses.
Alw.
'Tis true my dearest,
Yet when I call to mind how many faire ones
Make wilfull shipwracke of their faiths, and oathes
To God, and Man to fill the armes of Greatnesse,
And you, rise vp lesse than a glorious starre
To the amazement of the world, that hold out
Against the sterne authority of a Father,
And spurne at honour when it comes to court you,
I am so tender of your good, that faintly
With your wrong I can wish my selfe that right
You yet are pleas'd to do mee.
Marg.
Yet, and euer,
Or wealth rak'd vp together with much care,
And to be kept with more, when the heart pines,
In being dispossest of what it longs for,
Beyond the Indian mines; or the smooth brow
Of a pleas'd Sire, that slaues me to his will?
And so his rauenous humour may bee feasted
By my obedience, and he see me great,
Leaues to my soule nor faculties, nor power
To make her owne election.
Alw.
But the dangers
That follow the repulse.
Marg.
To me they are nothing:
Let Alworth loue, I cannot be vnhappy.
Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me,
A teare, or two, by you dropt on my hearse
In sorrow for my fate, will call backe life
So far, as but to say that I die yours,
I then shall rest in peace, or should he proue
So cruell, as one death would not suffize
His thirst of vengeance, but with lingring torments
In mind, and body, I must wast to ayre,
In pouerty, ioyn'd with banishment, so you share
In my afflictions, (which I dare not wish you,)
So high I prize you; I could vndergoe 'em,
With such a patience as should looke downe
With scorne on his worst malice.
Alw.
Heauen auert
Such trialls of your true affection to me,
Nor will it vnto you that are all mercie
Shew so much rigour: but since wee must run
Such desperate hazards, let vs doe our best
To steere betweene 'em.
Marg.
Your Lord's ours, and sure,
And though but a young actor second me
In doing to the life, what he has plotted,
The end may yet proue happy: now my Alworth.
Enter Ouerreach. Alworth.
Alw.
To your letter, and put on a seeming anger.
I'le pay my Lord all debts due to his title,
And when with termes, not taking from his Honour,
He does sollicite me, I shall gladly heare him.
But in this peremptory, nay commanding way,
'Tappoint a meeting, and without my knowledge;
A Priest to tye the knot, can ne're be vndone
'Till death vnloose it, is a confidence
In his Lordship, will deceiue him.
Alw.
I hope better,
Good Lady.
Marg.
Hope Sir what you please: for me
I must take a safe and secure course; I haue
A father, and without his full consent,
Though all Lords of the land kneel'd for my fauour,
I can grant nothing.
Ouer.
I like this obedience.
But whatsoeuer my Lord writes, must, and shall bee
Accepted, and embrac'd. Sweet master Alworth,
You shew your selfe a true, and faithfull seruant
To your good Lord, he has a iewell of you.
How? frowning Meg? are these lookes to receiue
A messenger from my Lord? what's this? giue me it.
Marg.
A peece of arrogant paper like th'inscriptions
Ouer.
Faire mistrisse from your seruant learne, all ioyes
Ouerreach read the letter.
That we can hope for, if deferr'd, proue toyes;
Therefore this instant, and in priuate meete
A Husband, that will gladly at your feet
Lay downe his Honours, tendring them to you
With all content, the Church being payd her due.
Is this the arrogant peece of paper? Foole,
Will you still be one? in the name of madnesse, what
Could his good Honour write more to content you?
Is there ought else to be wisht after these two,
That are already offer'd? Marriage first,
And lawfull pleasure after: what would you more?
Marg.
Why Sir, I would be married like your daughter;
Not hurried away i'th night I know not whither,
To honour the sollemnity.
Alw.
An't please your Honour,
For so before to morrow I must stile you:
My Lord desire this priuacie in respect
His honourable kinsmen are far off,
And his desires to haue it done brooke not
So long delay as to expect their comming;
And yet He stands resolu'd, with all due pompe:
As running at the ring, playes, masques, and tilting
To haue his marriage at Court celebrated
When he has brought your Honour vp to London.
Ouer.
He tells you true; 'tis the fashion on my knowledge
Yet the good Lord to please your peeuishnes
Must put it off forsooth, and lose a night
In which perhaps he might get two boyes on thee.
Tempt me no farther, if you do, this good
Shall pricke you to him.
Marg.
I could be contented,
Were you but by to do a fathers part,
And giue me in the Church.
Ouer.
So my Lord haue you
What do I care who giues you since my Lord
Does purpose to be priuate, I'le not crosse him.
I know not master Alworth how my Lord
May be prouided, and therefore there's a purse
Of gold 'twill serue this nights expence, to morrow
I'le furnish him with any summes: in the meane time
Vse my ring to my Chaplaine; he is benefic'd
At my Mannor of Gotam, and call'd parson Will-doe
'Tis no matter for a licence, I'le beare him out in't.
Marg.
With your fauour Sir, what warrant is your ring?
He may suppose I got that twenty wayes
Without your knowledge, and then to be refus'd,
We're such a staine vpon me, if you pleas'd Sir
Your presence would do better.
Still peruerse?
I say againe I will not crosse my Lord,
Yet I'le preuent you too. Paper and incke there?
Alw.
I can furnish you.
Ouer.
I thanke you, I can write then.
Writes on his booke.
Alw.
You may if you please, put out the name of my Lord
In respect he comes disguis'd, and only write
Marry, her to this Gentleman.
Ouer.
Well aduis'd
Margaret kneeles.
'Tis done, away my blessing Girle? thou hast it.
Nay, no reply begone, good master Alworth.
This shall be the best nights worke, you euer made
Alw.
I hope so Sir.
Exeunt Alworth. and Margaret.
Ouer.
Farewell, now all's cocke-sure:
Me thinkes I heare already, Knights, and Ladies,
Say Sir Giles Ouerreach, 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 Paraquit?
This is state in Ladies. or my eldest sonne
To be her page, and wait vpon her trencher?
My ends! my ends are compass'd! then for Welborne
And the lands; were he once married to the widdow,
I haue him here, I can scarce containe my selfe,
I am so full of ioy; nay ioy all ouer.
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