University of Virginia Library

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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
Of my worthy friend Sir Giles.

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,
A shield of Brawne, and a barrell of Colchesier oysters?

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
In all the Shire, and say they lie conuenient,
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,
When wolues with hunger pin'd, howle at her brightnesse.
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,
And stood the enemies violent charge vndaunted
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.

Lad.
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
Equality of yeares, of birth, of fortune,
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
An after-noones discourse.

Lad.
So I shall heare you.