University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Garden of Sir Maurice Lacey.
Enter Sir John and Sir Maurice.
Sir John.
Now we are private, give me leave, my friend,
To unburthen my sad heart. The scene you have witness'd
Is but a sample of the violence
That robs me of all peace and happiness.
I find that I have held too lax a rein,
And by indulgence foster'd a proud spirit,
Which now disdains all governance.

Sir Maurice.
'Tis well
You think so. Knowledge of an evil
Oft helps one to it's cure.

Sir John.
Give me your patience.
This evil now is grown exorbitant,
And calls for instant remedy. I've thought
Of one, which haply may succeed.

Sir Maurice.
Go on.

Sir John.
Why this, in short, it is. As by indulgence
This insolence has risen to it's height,
So, by experience of adversity,
It may be curb'd. Now, Sir, I have conceiv'd
The means of doing this.

Sir Maurice.
I long to hear it.

Sir John.
Wealth, and the authority which follows it,
Have wrought upon my stubborn lady's pride,
'Till she forgets herself, and what she owes
Both to herself and me. My purpose is,
By a strong unexpected stroke to cast her
From the high pinnacle of vanity,
Into apparent ruin and dependence.

Sir Maurice.
But how may this be done?

Sir John.
I mean to tell you.
Your good opinion of my brother Luke
Hath led him to make him mine instrument,
I shall require your succour too, Sir Maurice.

Sir Maurice.
'Tis at your service in so good a cause.

Sir John.
I must remain secreted in your house.
While you report to my ungracious wife
The unexpected tidings of my death.

Sir Maurice.
Are you in earnest?

Sir John.
Not to die, believe me,
But to be thought dead. You must bear my will,
Whereby I give the total of my substance
To Luke—

Sir Maurice.
I see it all—'tis excellent.

Sir John.
Remember,
You must put on a melancholy air.
And, as you tell of my disastrous fate,
Sigh dismally, and if you can, squeeze out
A tear or two—

Sir Maurice.
Leave me to act my part:
I'll do it to the life.—Odso! your will—
Where is't?

Sir John.
It shall be drawn for you forthwith;
And here's my secret key o' the counting-house.
When you produce them, see you mark th' effect
They have upon my brother and my wife.
I only fear it may o'erpower her!
There is a tenderness in woman's nature—

Sir Maurice.
I warrant her; her feelings may be trusted.
You ought to know her better. Her proud spirit
Wants a corrective, and she'll have one now.
Some sudden strong revulsion is requir'd
To moderate her hot temperament.
Trust me, my friend, both she and you hereafter
Will be the better for it.

Sir John.
Turn as it will,
One of my purposes must be fulfill'd.
If Luke be such as you conceive he is,
If he can bear prosperity as well
As he hath stood the shock of adverse fortune,
I gain a treasure in him: if he fail,
And change of circumstances only serve
To bring his evil nature into action,
A short dependence on his tyranny
Will prove a lesson, not to be forgotten
When the delusion's past.

Sir Maurice.
Howe'er that prove,
I feel assur'd your brother will be found
Such as I think he is.

Sir John.
Heav'n grant he may!
I loath suspicion: 'tis a fiend that preys
Upon the nobler virtues of the heart,
And by it's morbid touch converts them all
To gall and mortal poison. Prove him well,
I pray you; mark his change of countenance
When first he hears your tidings—probe his soul—

Sir Maurice.
Enough—leave it to me. But come—time presses—
I must set out upon mine embassy.
See you keep close; let no one know you're here.

Sir John.
Away then! may success attend upon you!
My happiness depends on your report.

[Exeunt.