 | Riches : Or, The Wife And Brother |  |
57
SCENE III.
Lady Traffic's Apartment.Luke and Furbish meet.
Furbish.
So! You are come at last. Do you suppose
I've nought to do, but follow, and wait on
Your leisure, Sirrah?
Luke.
Truly I made haste.
Furbish.
Yes, as a snail does; but, I warrant me,
You can run fast enough, when dinner calls you.
You're never tardy then. Were I my lady
I'd keep no sturdy varlet to indulge
In sloth and idleness, when he might work,
Were he ten times my husband's brother.
Luke.
Nay,
I pray your patience, gentle Mrs. Furbish,
I mean not to offend. What is't you want?
Furbish.
It is my lady wants you. See you stir not
'Till she come here.
[Exit Furbish.
Luke.
I know my duty better.
Heav'ns! can I bear to be thus trampled on,
To meet with greater contumely than
The beggar, who implores the paltry dole
Of the way-faring traveller, or sues
For offals to appease his rav'ning hunger?
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All that their bitter'st scorn can load me with.
Those, who thro' accident or weakness fall,
May merit men's compassion; but that I,
Who knew profuseness of expence the parent
Of wretched poverty, that I should waste
My substance, and reduce myself to live on
The alms of others, steering on a rock
I might have shunn'd!
Enter Lady Traffic.
Lady Traffic.
So, Sir, where is Sir John?
Luke.
Alas! I know not, madam.
Lady Traffic.
'Twould become you
T' attend him, Sir, and not to linger thus
Idling about the house, eating and drinking—
Luke.
I would have done so, but, when he went hence,
He did forbid me.
Lady Traffic.
Who comes here? Sir Maurice!
Enter Sir Maurice.
Luke.
Know you, Sir, where Sir John—
Lady Traffic.
Stand farther off!
You're no companion for him, and his bus'ness
Aims not at you, I think.
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I'm silenc'd, Madam!
(aside)
Must I bear this too!
Sir Maurice.
What I have to say
This gentleman may very fitly hear.
Stand forward, Master Luke!
Lady Traffic.
What mean you, Sir?
Know you not who he is? Begone, I say!
Sir Maurice.
Stay, Sir—I know both who and what he is,
Which you as yet are ignorant of. Nay, Madam,
Frown not, nor let your angry bosom swell
With insolent contempt. I have a tale,
Which I am griev'd it falls to me to tell,
Will make you change your tone. Would I were spar'd
The dreadful task I now must execute!
Poor Sir John, Madam!
Lady Traffic.
What of him?
Sir Maurice.
Is gone!
Lady Traffic.
Gone? Where?—so suddenly—without a notice—
Sir Maurice.
Aye, Madam, gone to where we all must follow.
'Tis indeed dreadful—but the truth must out—
He's—
Lady Traffic.
Speak, nor keep me in suspence—
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He's dead!
Lady Traffic.
Dead, say you, Sir! oh!
Sir Maurice.
Be compos'd, I pray,
And give me your attention. 'Twill behove you.
Your conduct, Madam—I must speak strong truths,
Work'd on him so, as to o'ercome his reason,
And drove him to the doing of an act,
Which, when once done, can never be recall'd.
This morning—but I spare you the recital—
This morn they bore his body to my house,
Where, as he went upon his desp'rate errand,
He left this instrument. It is his will.
Lady Traffic.
Oh, worthy Sir! your words have pierced my heart.
My conduct caused this fatal act! alas!
To what hath it reduc'd me.
Sir Maurice.
What indeed!
'Tis too late now to remedy your faults,
Or for him to forgive them. This small paper
Contains your doom. By it, his whole estate
In lands, and leases, debts, and present monies,
With all the moveables he stood possess'd of,
Are pass'd o'er to his brother.
[Gives the will to Luke.
Luke.
How! to me?
Sir Maurice.
Aye, Sir, to you alone. You're now the owner
Of this fair mansion, and of all the wealth
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The key of 's counting-house.
Lady Traffic.
Have I no part?
I and my daughters, are we quite cut off?
Is nothing left for our provision?
Sir Maurice.
Nothing—
Save what this gentleman, in his free bounty,
And from his gen'rous nature, may bestow.
Luke
(aside).
Humph!
Sir Maurice.
He, I know, is pitiful. Humility
From him may gain remission, and perhaps
Forgiveness of your former usage.
Luke
(aside).
So!
Sir Maurice.
Enjoy your own, good Sir; you'll find it ample.
But use it with due rev'rence. I once heard you
Speak most divinely in the opposition
Of a revengeful humour: shew it to her,
And those who then depended on the mercy
Of your late brother, now at your devotion;
And thus confirm the opinion I held of you,
Of which I am most confident.
Luke.
I pray you
Give me some time. This sudden change of fortune
Might overturn a sounder judgment.
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Sir,
I do confess my conduct has been such,
As scarcely I can justify, or you
Perhaps forgive. Nay, turn not from me, Sir;
I do confess my errors, and thus lowly
Bend for your pardon.
Luke.
Madam, pray you rise,
And rise with this assurance, if I'm chang'd
In any thing, 'tis only in my power.
This heap of wealth, Sir, which you bring to me
I feel a weighty burthen.
Lady Traffic.
You shall have
My best assistance, if you please to use it,
To help you to support it.
Luke.
By no means:
The weight of it shall rather sink me, than you part
With one short minute from those lawful pleasures
Which you've a right to, in your care to aid me.
Whate'er the penalty, I must endure it,
But as to it's exercise—
Sir Maurice.
Yet take good heed, Sir,
You suffer not your generosity
To ruin what he rais'd—
Lady Traffic.
And we fall from
That height we have maintain'd.
Luke.
You little guess
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'Till now an abject creature, and apportion'd
Your treatment to my baseness: now, since fortune
Hath rais'd me to this station, you shall find
You judg'd not rightly of me. It shall be
My study, nay my pride, to approve myself
Such as I am.
Lady Traffic.
Your words speak comfort to me;
You are the only stay, the sole support,
I now have upon earth. Tho' I was rude,
I own it, Sir, with shame, and often us'd you
Too roughly for your virtues, yet I knew
You had them; but, if I had doubted them,
Your present noble conduct would convince me
With what profusion they're bestowed on you.
Luke.
If thus you speak before you've made assay
Of my intent, what words will tell your feeling,
When I shall give you proof on't? I rejoice
Most in my sudden riches, as they afford me
The means of shewing how I estimate
Your signal claims upon my gratitude.
I will invent new fashions to adorn you,
To shew your shape and graces to perfection.
You have been brave, but shall be now much braver:
You hitherto have borne the port of ladies,
Fine courtly ladies; but you now shall shew
A dignity more fitting your desert.
Go to, the world shall see it, and admire.
I'll make it the first fruits of my preferment.
What garb is this you wear? Doth this become you?
Cast off these rags, indulge in splendid dreams
Of future greatness, which, when you awake,
I'll make conspicuous. But I must be
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Requiring haste, I kiss your hands, and leave you.
[Exit Luke.
Sir Maurice.
Are we both turned to statues? Have his words
Charm'd us to silence?
Lady Traffic.
I could ne'er have thought
He had this in him.
Sir Maurice.
He's a noble fellow.
I knew he'd prove so.
Lady Traffic.
To forget so soon
Our former treatment of him, so unworthy
Of his rare qualities! Sir John himself
Was never half so gen'rous or so kind.
Sir Maurice.
Aye, there indeed! poor man! what loss was his!
Lady Traffic.
Why certainly, when we reflect upon it,
He was a worthy man, and I am sure
I feel his loss, and I've a right to do so,
And so have his poor daughters.
Sir Maurice.
Aye, in truth—
Good worthy gentleman! ah! we may live
Long ere we see his like!
Lady Traffic.
To leave us thus
Mere destitutes—out of his boundless wealth
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I'm sure it is enough to break one's heart—
Sir Maurice.
Come, come, take courage; things are not so bad.
You hear what Luke, your gen'rous brother, says.
Lady Traffic.
Aye, he indeed is of a different sort;
I see he'll treat us in a nobler way
Than Sir John chose to do. He never shew'd
Such liberality; his utmost bounty,
And that too hardly drawn from him by pray'rs,
Was parsimony, when compar'd with this.
But I must go, and hasten to his daughters.
Poor things! I'm sure they'll want some consolation!
[Exit.
Sir Maurice.
Well, go thy ways, thou art a rare one truly!
This will I to Sir John forthwith convey.
Our plot goes forward. He will find my judgment
In either case confirm'd: his wife, the vain,
Imperious fickle thing I thought her ever,
And his degraded brother, honest Luke,
Unchang'd by wealth, and undebauch'd by power.
[Exit.
| Riches : Or, The Wife And Brother | |