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SCENE III.
—A chamber at Lord Beaufort's.Richard Fitz-Alan and Parallel.
RICHARD.
Well, I forgive thee. Thou wert born a rascal
And bred a tutor: 'tis quite natural
That thou shouldst play the villain.
PARALLEL.
And the debt, too!
The fear of prison!
RICHARD.
True, you are a coward.
Another fair excuse. Well, I forgive you.
But here comes one with whom I must demand
A sterner parley.
PARALLEL.
Edward! Then I'll leave you.
RICHARD.
Stay! Stay!
PARALLEL.
Then you'll protect me?
RICHARD.
I'll ensure you
The chance to run for it.
PARALLEL.
I'll take courage, then;
But let me see that I've fair start of him.
Enter Edward.
EDWARD.
So Richard! you look gloomily upon me.
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Mine is a gloomy task: you've wronged my honour,
EDWARD.
Are not both suitors to fair Mariana?
Did you not challenge me to this encounter?
RICHARD.
I did not challenge you with poison'd weapons.
EDWARD.
Well, well, I was to blame—it was not just.
And yet, he far exceeded his instructions.
PARALLEL.
I pray you now, speak not of me, nor ask me;
For, though there be some several sorts of death,
It matters not to me if I be spitted
Upon his sword or yours, and that's the end on't,
Whatever you may force me speak.
EDWARD.
He hath
Foresworn his slanders: you are clear. The thought—
The base, degenerate thought Ill call it so—
Rose in my mind, and this fit instrument
Forcing himself upon my service in it.
PARALLEL.
Who? I?
RICHARD.
Well, he must be forgiven too.
EDWARD.
Frankly by me, if you can pardon him.
RICHARD.
I have already.
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Come, shake hands, then, Parallel!
Come, man!
[They shake hands: aside to him.
You villain! But for once you're safe!
You are forgiven freely! Come, let's have
A cup of wine. Be gay and jovial:
Sit, sit my worthy tutor, and regale.
PARALLEL.
Sooth! and I will.
EDWARD.
How fares it with the widow?
Richard! It were but just to pay her back
A little of the toilsome load she has laid
So heavily on your shoulders. Say you wrote
A fit reply to that same loving letter
She sent this morning an anonymous line
Requesting her attendance: she would swear
The hand was yours, and Master Parallel
Might profit by the opportunity
And win a rich wife. What head would this joke
Come under, Master Tutor?
PARALLEL.
If 'twere practicable,
The head “jokes advantageous.”
RICHARD.
Let him write
The letter, then.
EDWARD.
He write a love-letter?
Would you spoil all?
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You'll own the letter, Parallel?
'Tis done, you know, for your sake.
PARALLEL.
Own the letter?
Ay, truly would I, and for many reasons.
First, my own interest—
EDWARD.
That one suffices:
Here are pens, ink, and paper.
[Richard writes.
Is't not kind of me,
After your tricks, to find a wife for you?
PARALLEL.
Nay, don't talk of my tricks.
EDWARD.
I spoke of them
In mirth.
PARALLEL.
But your mirth's somewhat terrible,
Rather like grinning death upon a tombstone—
A gay “memento mori.”
EDWARD.
Psha! The widow—
Think of the brave rich widow, she's your mark, man!
RICHARD.
I've scrawled a line or two.
EDWARD.
Let Master Parallel
Hear how you speak for him, and frame his tongue to it.
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(reads.)
Mistress, one will wait to-night,
In the quiet evening light,
On the terrace near your dwelling:
When love's orb begins to reign,
Come and list to him who'd fain
Of his heart the tale be telling.
There's a good halting doggrel muse for you.
Stay, “To the Widow Lovel.”
EDWARD.
Hold! 'twere better
Not to direct it. Even if the hand
Be known, you then can say 'tis but a scrawl
Missent where 'twas not due.
RICHARD.
E'en as you please.
EDWARD.
Our stoup is out. Another flask?
RICHARD.
Nay, hold,—
No more to-day; here's Master Parallel
Must make him ready for his love encounter.
EDWARD.
I'll send his verses.
RICHARD.
Now, my worthy pupil,
Now for your master's honour go and prosper.
[Exit.
PARALLEL.
I will read Ovid to refresh my mind
With pleasing images, and cast an eye
O'er Horace for a little mirth—Anacreon
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Of learning. She shall have a specimen
Of the true classic wooing.
[Exit.
EDWARD.
When you find her.
This precious fragment is for higher uses,
Than to procure your meeting with the widow
'Tis Richard's hand, and known to Mariana;
A lure that sweet bird will full gladly stoop to.
[Isabel has entered during the speech, and taken up the paper.]
Ha, Isabel!
ISABEL.
Verses in Richard's hand!
What would you with them, brother?
EDWARD.
Tut! a toy,
A jest!
ISABEL.
You seldom jest, good Edward: now
Methinks 'tis no time for it.
EDWARD.
Give them me,
Or you will spoil the mirth I'd make with them.
ISABEL.
The mirth! I doubt you, brother. I have seen
But now a sorry token of your jesting.
You are a suitor, too, to Mariana;
And, foil'd, I know your temper; but I'll watch
To save them from your wiles, you from yourself.
[Exit.
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