 | A New Way to Pay Old Debts |  |
Actus quarti
Scena prima.
Louell. Alworth.Louell.
'Tis well: giue me my cloke: I now discharge you
From further seruice. Minde your owne affaires,
I hope they will proue successefull.
Alw.
What is blest
With your good wish my Lord, cannot but prosper,
Let after-times report, and to your Honor
How much I stand engag'd, for I want language
To speake my debt: yet if a teare, or two
Of ioy for your much goodnesse, can supply
My tongues defects I could.
Lou.
Nay, doe not melt:
This ceremoniall thankes to mee's suferfluous.
Ouerreach
within.
Is my Lord stirring?
Lou.
'Tis he, oh here's your letter: let him in.
Enter Ouer, Gred. Mar.
Ouer.
A good day to my Lord.
Lou,
You are an early riser,
Sir Giles.
Ouer.
And reason to attend your Lordship.
Lou.
And you too master Greedie, vp so soone?
Greed.
In troth my Lord after the Sun is vp
I cannot sleep, for I haue a foolish stomacke
That croakes for breakefast. With your Lordships fauour;
I haue a serious question to demand
Lou.
Pray you vse your pleasure.
Greed.
How far Sir Giles, and pray you answer me,
Vpon your credit, hold you it to be
From your Mannor house, to this of my Lady Alworths.
Ouer.
Why some foure mile.
Greed.
How! foure mile? good Sir Giles.
Vpon your reputation thinke better
For if you doe abate but one halfe quarter
Of fiue you doe your selfe the greatest wrong
That can be in the world: for foure miles riding
Could not haue rais'd so huge an appetite
As I feele gnawing on me.
Mar.
Whither you ride,
Or goe a foote, you are that way still prouided
And it please your Worship.
Ouer.
How now Sirra? prating
Before my Lord: no difference? go to my Nephew;
See all his debts discharg'd, and help his Worship
To fit on his rich suite.
Mar.
I may fit you too;
Toss'd like a dogge still.
Exit Marrall.
Lou.
I haue writt this morning
A few lines to my mistresse your faire daughter.
Ouer.
'Twill fire her, for shee's wholy yours already:
Sweet master Alworth, take my ring 'twill carry you
To her presence I dare warrant you, and there pleade
For my good Lord, if you shall find occasion.
That done, pray ride to Nottingham, get a licence,
Still by this token, I'le haue it dispatch'd,
And suddainely my Lord, that I may say
My honorable, nay, right honorable daughter,
Greed.
Take my aduice young Gentleman: get your breakefast.
'Tis vnholsome to ride fasting, I'le eate with you
And eate to purpose.
Ouer.
Some Furies in that gut:
Hungry againe! did you not deuoure this morning,
Greed.
Why that was Sir, only to scoure my stomacke,
A kind of a preparatiue. Come Gentleman
I will not haue you feed like the Hangman of Vllushing
Alone, while I am here.
Lou.
Hast your returne.
Alw.
I will not faile my Lord.
Greed.
Nor I to line
My Christmas coffer.
Exeunt Greedy and Alworth.
Ouer.
To my wish, we are priuate.
I come not to make offer with my daughter
A certaine portion, that were poore, and triuiall:
In one word I pronounce all that is mine,
In lands, or leases, ready coine, or goods,
With her, my Lord comes to you, nor shall you haue
One motiue to induce you to beleeue,
I liue too long, since euery yeare I'le add
Something vnto the heape, which shall be yours too.
Lou.
You are a right kind father.
Ouer.
You shall haue reason
To thinke me such, how doe you like this seate?
It is well wooded, and well water'd, the Acres
Fertile, and rich; would it not serue for change
To entertaine your friends in a Sommer progresse?
What thinkes my noble Lord?
Lou.
'Tis a wholesome aire,
And well built pile, and she that's mistresse of it
Worthy the large reuennue.
Ouer.
Shee the mistresse?
It may be so for a time: but let my Lord
Say only that he likes it, and would haue it,
I say e're long 'tis his.
Lou.
Impossible.
Ouer.
You doe conclude too fast, not knowing me;
Nor the engines that I worke by, 'tis not alone
The Lady Alworths Lands, for those once Welbornes,
(As by her dotage on him, I know they will be,)
Shall soone be mine, but point out any mans
And vsefull for your Lordship, and once more
I say aloud, They are yours.
Lou.
I dare not owne
What's by vniust, and cruell meanes extorted
My fame, and credit are more deare to me,
Than so to expose 'em to be censur'd by
The publike voice.
Ouer.
You run my Lord no hazard.
Your reputation shall stand as faire
In all good mens opinions as now:
Nor can my actions, though condemn'd for ill,
Cast any foule aspersion vpon yours;
For though I doe contemne report my selfe,
As a meere sound, I still will be so tender
Of what concernes you in all points of Honour,
That the immaculate whitenesse of your Fame,
Nor your vnquestion'd integrity
Shall e're be sullied with one taint, or spot
That may take from your innocence, and candor.
All my ambition is to haue my daughter
Right honorable, which my Lord can make her.
And might I liue to dance vpon my knee
A young Lord Louell, borne by her vnto you,
I write nil vltra to my proudest hopes.
As for possessions, and annuall rents
Equiualent to maintaine you in the port,
Your noble birth, and present state requires,
I doe remoue that burthen from your shoulders,
And take it on mine owne: for though I ruine
The Country to supply your riotous wast,
The scourge of prodigalls want shall neuer find you.
Lou.
Are you not frighted with the imprecations,
And curses, of whole families made wretched
By your sinister practises?
Ouer.
Yes as rocks are
When foamie billowes split themselues against
Their flinty ribbes; or as the Moone is mou'd,
I am of a solid temper, and like these
Steere on a constant course: with mine owne sword
If call'd into the field, I can make that right,
Which fearefull enemies murmur'd at as wrong.
Now for, these other pidling complaints
Breath'd out in bitternesse, as when they call me
Extortioner, Tyrant, Cormorant, or Intruder
On my poore Neighbours right, or grand incloser
Of what was common, to my priuate vse;
Nay, when my cares are pierc'd with Widdowes cries,
And vndon Orphants wash with teares my threshold;
I only thinke what 'tis to haue my daughter
Right honorable; and 'tis a powerfull charme
Makes me insensible of remorse, or pitty,
Or the least sting of Conscience.
Lou.
I admire
The toughnesse of your nature.
Ouer.
'Tis for you
My Lord, and for my daughter, I am marble
Nay more more if you will haue my character
In little, I enioy more true delight
In my arriuall to my wealth, these darke,
And crooked wayes, than you shall e're take pleasure
In spending what my industry hath compass'd.
My hast commands me hence, In one word therefore
Is it a Match?
Lou.
I hope that is past doubt now.
Ouer.
Then rest secure, not the hate of all mankind here;
Nor feare of what can fall on me hereafter,
Shall make me studie ought but your aduancement,
One story higher. An Earle! if gold can do it.
Dispute not my religion, nor my faith,
Though I am borne thus headlong by my will,
You may make choice of what beleefe you please,
To me they are equall, so my Lord good morrow.
Exit.
Lou.
Hee's gone, I wonder how the Earth can beare
Such a portent! I, that haue liu'd a Souldier,
To heare this blasphemous beast, a'm bath'd all ouer
In a cold sweat: yet like a mountaine he
Confirm'd in Atheisticall assertions,
Is no more shaken, than Olimpus is
When angry Boreas loades his double head
With suddaine drifts of snow.
Enter Amble. Lady. Woman.
Lad.
Saue you my Lord.
Disturbe I not your priuacie?
Lou.
No good Madam;
For your owne sake I am glad you came no sooner.
Since this bold, bad man, Sir Giles Ouerreach
Made such a plaine discouerie of himselfe,
And read this morning such a diuellish Matins,
That I should thinke it a sinne next to his;
But to repeat it.
Lad.
I ne're press'd my Lord
On others priuacies, yet against my will,
Walking, for health sake, in the gallerie
Adioyning to your lodgings, I was made
(So vehement, and loud he was) partaker
Of his tempting offers.
Lad.
Please you to command
Your seruants hence, and I shall gladly heare
Your wiser counsell.
Lad.
'Tis my Lord a womans
But true, and hearty; wait in the next roome,
But be within call: yet not so neere to force me
To whisper my intents.
Amb.
We are taught better
By you good Madam.
Wom.
And well know our distance.
Lad.
Doe so, and talke not 'twill become your breeding.
Exeunt, Amble and Woman.
Now my good Lord; if I may vse my freedome,
As to an honour'd friend?
Lou.
You lessen else
Your fauour to me.
I dare then say thus;
As you are Noble (how e're common men
Make sordid wealth the obiect, and sole end
Of their industrious aimes) 'twill not agree
With those of eminent blood (who are ingag'd
More to prefer their Honours, than to increase
The State left to 'em, by their Ancestours)
To study large additions to their fortunes
And quite neglect their births: though I must grant
Riches well got to be a vsefull Seruant)
But a bad Master.
Lou.
Madam, 'tis confessed;
But what infer you from it?
Lad.
This my Lord;
That as all wrongs, though thrust into one scale
Slide of themselues off, when right fills the other,
And cannot bide the triall: so all wealth
(I meane if ill acquir'd) cemented to Honor
By vertuous wayes atchieu'd, and brauely purchas'd,
Is but as rubbage powr'd into a riuer
(How e're intended to make good the bancke)
Rendring the water that was pure before,
Polluted, and vnholsome. I allow
The heire of Sir Giles Ouerreach. Margaret.
A maide well qualified, and the richest match
Our North part can make boast of, yet she cannot
With all that she brings with her fill their mouthes,
That neuer will forget who was her father;
Or that my husband Alworths lands, and Welbornes
(How wrunge from both needs now no repetition)
Were reall motiue, that more work'd your Lordship
To ioyne your families; than her forme, and vertues.
You may conceaue the rest.
Lou.
I doe sweet Madam;
And long since haue consider'd it I know
The summe of all that makes a iust man happy
Consists in the well choosing of his wife
And there well to discharge it, does require
For beauty being poore, and not cried vp
By birth or wealth, can truely mixe with neither.
And wealth, where there's such difference in yeares,
And faire descent, must make the yoke vneasie:
But I come neerer.
Lad.
Pray you doe my Lord.
Lou.
Were Ouerreach, stat's thrice centupl'd; his daughter
Millions of degrees, much fairer than she is,
(How e're I might vrge presidents to excuse me)
I would not so adulterate my blood
By marrying Margaret, and so leaue my issue
Made vp of seuerall peeces, one part skarlet
And the other London-blew. In my owne tombe
I will interre my name first.
Lad.
I am glad to heare this:
aside.
Why then my Lord pretend you marriage to her?
Dissimulation but tyes false knots
On that straite line, by which you hitherto
Haue measur'd all your actions?
Lou.
I make answer
And aptly, with a question. Wherefore haue you,
That since your Husbands death, haue liu'd a strict,
And chaste Nuns life, on the suddaine giu'n your selfe
To visits, and entertainments? thinke you Madam
'Tis not growge publike conference? or the fauours
Which you too prodigally haue throwne on Welborne
Being too reseru'd before, incurre not censure?
Lad.
I am innocent heere, and on my life I sweare
My ends are good.
Lou.
On my soule so are mine
To Margaret: but leaue both to the euent
And since this friendly priuacie does serue
But as an offer'd meanes vnto our selues
To search each other farther; you hauing showne
Your care of mee, I, my respect to you;
Denie me not, but still in chaste words Madam
Lad.
So I shall heare you.
Scena secunda.
Tapwell. Froth.Tapwell.
Vndone, vndone! this was your counsaile, Froth.
Froth.
Mine! I defie thee, did not master Marrall
(He has marr'd all I am sure) strictly command vs
(On paine of Sir Giles Ouerreach displeasure)
To turne the Gentleman out of dores?
Tapw.
'Tis true
But now hee's his Vncles darling, and has got
Master Iustice Greedy (since he fill'd his belly)
At his commandement, to doe any thing;
Woe, woe to vs.
Froth.
He may proue mercifull.
Tap.
Troth, we do not deserue it at his hands:
Though he knew all the passages of our house;
As the receiuing of stolne goods, and bawdrie
When he was rogue Welborne, no man would beleeue him,
And then his information could not hurt vs.
But now he is right Worshipfull againe,
Who dares but doubt his testimonie? me thinkes
I see thee Froth already in a cart
For a close Bawde, thine eyes eu'n pelted out
(If I scape the halter) with the letter R.
Printed vpon it.
Froth.
Would that were the worst:
That were but nine dayes wonder, as for credit
We haue none to lose; but we shall lose the money
He owes vs and his custome, there's the hell on't.
Tap.
He has summon'd all his Creditours by the drum,
And they swarme about him like so many souldiers
On the pay day, and has found out such a new way
To pay his old debts, as 'tis very likely
He shall be chronicl'd for it.
Froth.
He deserues it
More than ten Pageants. But are you sure his Worship
Comes this way to my Ladies?
A cry within, braue Master Welborne.
Tapw.
Yes I heare him.
Froth.
Be ready with your petition and present it
To his good Grace.
Enter Welb. in a rich habit, Greed. Ord. Furn. three Creditors: Tapw. kneeling deliuers his bill of debt.
Welb.
How's this! petition'd too?
But note what miracles, the payment of
A little trash, and a rich suite of clothes
Can worke vpon these Rascalls. I shall be
I thinke prince Welborne.
Mar.
When your Worships married
You may be, I know what I hope to see you.
Welb.
Then looke thou for aduancement.
Mar.
To be knowne
Your Worships Bayliffe is the marke I shoot at.
Welb.
And thou shalt hit it.
Mar.
Pray you Sir dispatch
These needie followers, and for my admittance
Prouided you'l defend me from Sir Giles.
This interim, Tapwell and Froth flattering & bribing iustice Greedy.
Whose seruice I am weary of I'le say something
You shall giue thankes for.
Welb.
Feare me not Sir Giles
Greed.
Who? Tapwell? I remember thy wife brought me
Tapw.
And shall doe euery Christmas, let your Worship
But stand my friend now.
Greed.
How? with master Welborne?
I can doe any thing with him, on such termes;
See you this honest couple: they are good soules
As euer drew out fosset, haue they not
A payre of honest faces?
Welb.
I o're heard you,
And the bribe he promis'd, you are cousend in 'em,
For of all the scumme that grew rich by my riots
This for a most vnthankefull knaue, and this
For a base bawde, and whore, haue worst deseru'd me,
And therefore speake not for 'em, by your place
You are rather to do me iustice; lend me your eare,
Forget his Turkies, and call in his Licence,
And at the next Faire, I'le giue you a yoke of Oxen
Worth all his Poultry.
Greed.
I am chang'd on the suddaine
In my opinion! come neere; neerer Rascall.
And now I view him better; did you e're see
One looke so like an arch-knaue? his very countenance,
Should an vnderstanding iudge but looke vpon him,
Would hang him, though he were innocent.
Tap., Froth.
Worshipfull Sir.
Greed.
No though the great Turke came insteed of Turkies,
To begge any fauour, I am inexorable:
Thou hast an ill name: besides thy musty Ale
That hath destroy'd many of the Kings leige people
Thou neuer hadst in thy house to stay mens stomackes
A peece of Suffolke cheese, or Gammon of Bacon,
Or any esculent, as the learned call it,
For their emolument, but sheere drinke only.
For which grosse fault, I heere doe damne thy licence,
Forbidding thee euer to tap, or draw.
For instantly, I will in mine owne person
And doe it before I eate.
Froth.
No mercie?
Greed.
Vanish.
If I shew any, may my promis'd Oxen gore me.
Tapw.
Vnthankefull knaues are euer so rewarded
Exeunt Greedie, Tapwell. Froth.
Welb.
Speake; what are you?
1. Creditor.
A decay'd Vintner Sir,
That might haue thriued, but that your worship broke me
With trusting you with Muskadine and Egges,
And fiue pound Suppers, with your after drinkings,
When you lodg'd vpon the Banckside.
Welb.
Remember.
1. Cred.
I haue not beene hasty, nor e're layd to arrest you.
And therefore Sir—
Welb.
Thou art an honest fellow:
I'le set thee vp againe, see his bill pay'd,
What are you?
2. Cred.
A Taylor once, but now meere Botcher.
I gaue you credit for a suite of clothes,
Which was all my stocke, but you failing in payment,
I was remou'd from the Shop-boord, and confin'd
Vnder a Stall.
Welb.
See him pay'd, and botch no more.
2. Cred.
I aske no interest Sir.
Welb.
Such Taylors need not,
If their bills are pay'd in one and twenty yeare
They are seldome losers. O, I know thy face
Thou were't my Surgeon: you must tell no tales.
Those dayes are done. Iwill pay you in priuate.
Ord.
A royall Gentleman.
Furn.
Royall as an Emperour!
He'le proue a braue master, my good Lady knew
To choose a man.
Welb.
See all men else discharg'd
And since Old debts are clear'd by a new way,
There's something honest Cooke for thy good breakefasts,
And this for your respect, take't, 'tis good gold
And I able to spare it.
Ord.
You are too munificent.
Furn.
Hee was euer so.
Welb.
Pray you on before.
3. Cred.
Heauen blesse you.
Mar.
At foure a clocke the rest know where to meet me
Exeunt Ord. Furn. Furn. Credit.
Welb.
Now master Marrall, what's the weightie secret
You promis'd to impart?
Mar.
Sir, time, nor place
Allow me to relate each circumstance;
This only in a word: I know Sir Giles
Will come vpon you for security
For his thousand pounds, which you must not consent to
As he growes in heat, as I am sure hee will,
Be you but rough, and say Hee's in your debt
Ten times the summe, vpon sale of your land,
I had a hand in't (I speake it to my shame)
When you were defeated of it.
Welb.
That's forgiuen.
Mar.
I shall deserue't then; vrge him to produce
The deed in which you pass'd it ouer to him,
Which I know Hee'le haue about him to deliuer
To the Lord Louell, with many other writings,
And present moneys, I'le instruct you further,
As I waite on your Worship, if I play not my price
To your full content, and your Vncles much vexation,
Hang vp Jacke Marrall.
Welb.
I relie vpon thee.
Exeunt.
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.
Exit the end of the fourth Act.
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