University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—An Apartment at Beaufort's.
Enter Lord Beaufort, followed by a Servant.
LORD BEAUFORT.
I'll see him here, and while we are together
Let no one interrupt us. (Exit Servant.)
For the first time,
To ask, and of a merchant! one to whom
Wealth is the all in all; whose trade's oppression,
By all the various means of craft and usury.
Who hath no passion but his gold; no sympathy
Save with the means of gain! Well, I must meet him.
Enter Scroope (he keeps his face averted.)
He stands with such a tradesman-like humility,
Hypocrisy so crawling, serpent-like;
I loathe it more than the imperious pride
That lurks beneath. You hold a mortgage, sir,
Over my house and lands here, which expires
Even as we speak, perhaps? Why are you silent?
You have it, have you not?

SCROOPE.
I have.

LORD BEAUFORT.
Methinks
I have heard that voice before. How's this? you tremble?

SCROOPE.
Do I indeed? (Aside.)
I do feel the bird
That looks upon the rattle-snake. What would you
Propose or offer?

LORD BEAUFORT.
Nothing; my whole wealth
Is at your mercy, or indeed 'tis yours:
The wreck, by careful nursery, might yield
A slender pittance, such as would support
Mean life, and that I scarce can ask of you.

SCROOPE.
Why do you send for me? To ask compassion?

LORD BEAUFORT.
Sir, spare your insult and begone!

SCROOPE.
Why should I?
You say this house is mine. Why sent you to me
If not to ask compassion?

LORD BEAUFORT.
I might hope
My creditor might have so much of conscience,
To save all needless charges, and perchance
To pay me the small value of my lands,
Above the mortgage.

SCROOPE.
And from whom could you
Expect this favour?

LORD BEAUFORT.
Even from a stranger.

SCROOPE.
But I am not a stranger? You have heard
My voice before.

LORD BEAUFORT.
Yet cannot recollect
Where I have heard it; though some mournful thoughts
Rise in its accents.

SCROOPE.
Look upon my face!
'Tis more than twenty years since you beheld it;
Ay, some years more than twenty—yet, methinks,
You should not have forgotten.—

LORD BEAUFORT.
It is he!

SCROOPE.
Ay; do you know me? Does Lord Beaufort send
To Francis Norton? Would you ask of him
Favour or friendship, or mere charity?

LORD BEAUFORT.
And am I in your power?

SCROOPE.
Ay: for years
I've wormed myself, by fine degrees, to the heart
Of your once proud fortunes: I have thrown the means
Of waste within your way: when you shot forth
Unhealthy branches of expenditure
I still supplied the sap: but there I dwelt,
Near to the core, eating and eating still
The strength of the trunk away, till my slow patience
At length hath felled it.

LORD BEAUFORT.
Fool! that I knew you not.
These five years you have lived here.

SCROOPE.
Aye! I came
To keep a steward's eye o'er my estate
And watch its heedless tenants. Now you know me
What can you ask of me, I cannot answer,
Out of your own mouth, with a stern denial?
Is there a common tie of man to man,
Such as the Arab of the desert owns
When e'en an enemy of his faith craves shelter,
You have not broke between us? Now, what ask you?

LORD BEAUFORT.
Nothing. Your fate has conquered, and I'm lost.

SCROOPE.
I came not here to triumph, but to judge.
I've lived to see you at my feet: deny't not!
For all your outward pride is but the symbol
Of your heart's quailing—I have lived to see this,
And I am satisfied. I've little cause
To spare you, but for her sake, whom you killed,
And for some others who are near to you,
You shall at least have justice. For the terms,
Within an hour send Richard to my house
Richard Fitz-Alan—I will hear no more.
Awaken not the deadly fiends that struggle
Yet into life within my breast. Send him,
And in my better mood, amid those thoughts
That cleanse the heart of vengeful will, perchance
Your fortunes may fare better—send him to me.

[Exeunt.