University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

—Rich apartment at Mrs. Stephen Foster's, late the Widow Welsted.
Enter Mrs. Stephen Foster, R.
Mrs. Steph.
(C.)
I've made a speedy choice and a swift marriage.
Well, be it as it will, I like the man.
Enter Clown, L.
Now fool, where is thy master?

Clown.
In the counting-house, tumbling over his money bags.
You shall hear of him in the bowling alley again shortly.

Mrs. Steph.
Why, sir, all's his, and at his own dispose.
Who shall dare thwart him?

Clown.
Here he comes.

[Goes back.
Enter Stephen, L. richly apparelled, with a handful of Bills and Bonds.
Mrs. Steph.
Why, how now, sweetheart? What hast there, I pray?

Steph.
(C.)
I find much debts belonging to you, sweet,
And my care now must be to fetch them in.

Mrs. S.
(C.)
Your care! Ha! ha! Do not mistake thyself,
Nor my true purpose. Sir, I did not wed
To thrall or bind thy large expense, but rather
To add a plenty to't. I thought, ere this,
Thou would'st have stuff'd thy pockets full of gold,
And thrown it at a hazard—made ducks and drakes,
And bated fishes with thy silver flies;
Lost and fetch'd more. Why, this had been my joy;
Nay, had'st thou wasted all.

Steph.
Content thee, sweet,
Those days are gone, even from my memory;
I have forgot that I e'er had such follies,
And I'll not call 'em back: my cares are bent
To keep your state, and give you happiness.
Sirrah, [To Clown.]
go, call your fellow-servants up,
And to my chamber bring all books of debt;
I will o'erlook, and cast up all accounts,
That I may know the true weight of our substance,
And once a year give up my stewardship.

[Goes back.
Mrs. Steph.
(C.)
Astonishment!

Clown.
(C.) [Aside to her.]

Now you may see what
hasty matching is: you had thought to have been
vex'd, and now you cannot. You've married a husband,
that now being my master-in-law, will, I do
think, prove the most miserable, covetous rascal that
ever beat beggar from his gate. But 'tis no matter—
Time was when you were fairly offer'd if you would
have taken it. You might have had other matches, and
those that would have cross'd you. I would have sold
away all you had—have turn'd you out of doors, and
used you like a woman. Whereas now, if you hang
yourself you can have none of these blessings. But its
well enough—now you must take what follows.

[Exit Clown, R.
Mrs. Steph.
Will the tide never turn?
[Crosses to R.
Was ever woman
Thus burden'd with increasing happiness?
I married him to waste my goods, and he
Strives to augment them.

[He comes down in C.
Enter Robert, L.
Steph.
Oh, nephew, are you come?
How does your father use you? Is your name
Again found in his books?

Rob.
(L. C.)
'Tis blotted quite!
For by the cruel instigation of
My step-mother, his vows and oaths are stamp'd
Never to call or bless me as his child.

Steph.
Grieve not, kind coz, that father lost at home
You shall find here—for his inheritance
You meet another amply proffer'd you—
Be my adopted son—no more my kinsman.
[To his Wife.]
So that this borrowed bounty do not stray
From your consent?

Mrs. Steph.
[Turns to C.]
Call it not borrowed, sir, 'tis all your own!
Let him be largely texted in your love.
He is our child by the most free adoption.

Steph.
(C.)
Thanks, sweetest.

Rob.
You were born to bless us both—
My knee shall ever practise a son's duty;
Yet not forgetting that I owe my father,
Whene'er I meet him he shall have it too,
Although his blessing ne'er return to me.

Steph.
Come then, my son; be thou my deputy,
The factor and disposer of my business;
Keep my accounts, and order my affairs—
They must all be your own. For you, sweet wife,
Be merry—take your pleasure, here abroad—
Visit your neighbours—to the country ride;
If you have troubles, throw them all aside,
And I will take them up.—'Tis fit that weight
Should now be all on me. Take thou the height
Of quiet and content. Let nothing grieve thee:
I brought thee nothing else, and that I'll give thee.

[Goes off embracing, Robert following.—Exeunt, R.

SCENE II.

—A Court-yard before Brown's House.
Enter Brown and Foster, followed by George and Richard, bearing Money Bags, L.
Brown.
(C.)
So, so, in with them to the counting-house.
[Exeunt George and Richard into House.
[To Foster.]
Here's my receipt, sir, for the one-half debt.
Ten thousand pounds, and now it but remains,
You seal the writings which assure the rest.

Fos.
(C.)
Pray, stay, sir, I've bethought me. Let me once
Throw dice at all. I have of wares now vendible,
So much as will defray your utmost penny;
Will you accept of them and save this charge
Of wax and parchment?

Brown.
Willingly, provided
You make your rates so that I be no loser.

Fos.
I have no other end. They're broad cloths, kerseys,
That will not stay two days upon your hands.

[Re-enter George and Richard, from the house in back ground.
Brown.
Here's a new business, George—Richard and you
Must deal for some commodities betwixt us,
If you agree, take carriage presently,
And bring them home. This is the bargain.

[Talks aside with George near the house.
Fos.
[To Richard.]
What news o'the shipping?

Rich.
Nothing further, sir.
This tide should bring them into Catherine's Pool,
The wind's being friendly.

Fos.
Listen their arrival,
And bid the gunner speak it in's loud thunder
The city over!—till the merchants' ears
Tingle to learn of my abundant wealth!

Rich.
I shall, sir.

Brown.
George, go with him.

[Exeunt George and Richard into the house.
Fos.
I must now plainly tell you, Master Brown,
I shall gain much by you. The half o' your ship
Defrays my full cost.

Brown.
(R. C.)
I begrudge it not,
Being a sufficient gainer by my venture.

Enter Mrs. Foster, R.
Mrs. F.
Still flows the tide of my unhappiness;
The stars shoot mischief, and each coming hour
Is fatal to me!

Fos.
What's the matter now?

Mrs. F.
(C.)
Your brother—your good brother, sir.

Fos.
(L. C.)
What of him?
He is again in Ludgate, I suppose.

Mrs. F.

No—he's in Highgate, sir—he struts it
bravely!—

Fos.

Read me this riddle, wife!

Brown.

What mean you, madam?

Mrs. F.

He's married, forsooth! and married richly
too.

Fos.
Married! why, where's the woman of repute
Would choose so lightly?

Mrs. F.
A woman in whose breast
I thought I'd lived—Who is it, think you, sirs?
Nay, you'll not guess, though you should try a month.
It is my gossip then,—the Widow Welsted—
The wealthy widow of Cornhill!

Fos.
O, fie! fie!—
'Tis fabulous!

Brown.
[Aside.]
By'r lady I'm glad on't.

Mrs. F.
Are you my husband?—then is she his wife!
Nay more—within this hour hath he been chosen
Sheriff of London for th'ensuing year!

Fos., Brown.
Sheriff of London!

Mrs. F.
Aye—You may well stare.
But money can work miracles, and now
He's store of it—A proper Sheriff!—Oh!—
How will this upstart beggar shoulder now
And take the wall of you—His new-found pride
Will know no bounds.

Fos.
A miracle indeed!—
But wife, my wealth will five times double his
Ere this tide ebb.—I wonder I yet hear not
The brazen cannon tell the loud arrival
Of my vast substance.

Mrs. F.
Beggars will be proud
Of little, sir, and shoulder at the best.

Fos.
Let him first pay his old score and then reckon;
But that she—

Mrs. F.
Aye, there's where it mads me too.
Would any woman, unless to spite herself,
So much profane the sacred name of wedlock!—
A dove to couple with a stork!

Brown.
He comes.

[Foster and Mrs. F. retire up the Stage.
Enter Stephen and Robert, R.
Steph.
[To Brown.]

Save you, good sir, I have some
business with you.

Brown.
With me, sir?—You're most welcome.

Mrs. F.
See you, sir.
[They come down on L.
He will not know you now. Jockey's a gentleman!

Fos.
Well fare rich widows when such beggars flourish!

Steph.
(R. C.)
Ha! ha! ha! ha!

Mrs. F.
Look! look! he laughs at you!

Fos.
No wonder, woman, he did that in Ludgate.
But 'twas when his kind nephew did relieve him—
Robert kneels to his Father, C.
Why, how now?
What Idol kneels that heretic to?

Steph.
Rise, boy!
Rise up, I say! Thou'rt now my son, and owest
No knee to that unnatural old man.
Proud sir, this son, whom you have alienated
For my love's sake, shall now, by my love's bounty,
Ride side by side with the best equipage,
Your scorns dare pattern him.

Fos.
A beggar's gallop
Now up, now down.

Steph.
[To Brown.]
My business is with you, sir.
I am now furnishing some shipping forth,
And want some English traffic, broad-cloth, kerseys,
Or such like. If you can supply me, sir,
I am your chapman.

Brown.
That I'll soon resolve you.
Re-enter George, L.
Come hither, George.

[Talks aside.
Fos.
(R.)
That's the rich merchantman!

Mrs. F.
The new made sheriff, just come out of jail!

Brown.
[To George.]
Good— [To Stephen.]

Sir, I can furnish you, my factor tells me,
With wares this moment from your brother brought.
Please you go see them, for I'd fain divide you,
Since I can win no nearer friendship.

Steph.
Sir,
I follow you—

[Exeunt Stephen, Brown, and George, L.
Fos.
Take your adoption with you!

Rob.
I do but crave your blessing.

Fos.
'Tis my curse then!
Get from mine eye, thou art a beam in 't,
I'll tear it out, ere it shall look on thee.
Away, I say!

Mrs. F.
(R. C.)
Follow thine uncle-father.

[Exit Robert, L.
Fos.
(C.)
Thy gossip's folly bears its punishment.
He'll make the wealthy widow a poor wife.
But see where Richard comes in haste; now, listen,
And hear me crowned the wealthiest London merchant.
Enter Richard, L.
Now, Richard, now—why are those cannon dumb?
Mine ears are strained to catch the joyful sound.
Hast thou not seen the gunner?—Richard! Knave!
Wherefore dost look so sadly?—Speak, man, speak;
Hast thou thy tongue?

Rich.
(L.)
I never could speak worse;
It is a screech owl's note. Oh, you have made
The most unhappy bargain.

Fos.
Ha! what meanest thou?
What can so baleful be as thou dost seem
To hint by this sad prologue?—I'm no traitor,
To confiscate my goods—speak, and speak quickly.

Rich.
Would you could guess at it, and spare the tale.

Fos.
Dally not with thy torments! Sink me at once!

Rich.
Now 'tis half said. 'Tis sinking I must treat of!
Your ships are sunk!

Fos.
Hah!

Mrs. F.
Raven as thou art?
[Darting at him.
I'll tear thy tongue out for that croak!

Fos.
[Catching hold of her.]
Fool, he but jests! It is impossible.
My ships were riding in full pride at Dover;
What English Scylla could the devil raise
To wreck them so near home? Ha! ha! But, Richard,
'Tis ill to jest in such a case as this.
I pray thee, Richard—I—

Rich.
Alack! alack!
E'en in the mouth and entrance of the Thames
They were all cast away!

Fos.
My ships!

Rich.
All! all!

Fos.
My ships! no, no, no, no,—'tis false! Thou liest!
Confess thou dost or die! What! cast away!
All lost!

Rich.
Some men were saved, but not one bale of goods.

Fos.
Talk not to me of men! my wealth! my wealth!
Did they not shame to breathe when all was gone?
O, that I had but perish'd with my store,
Not lived to hear its loss! Open thou earth!
And gulph me as the greedy sea hath done
My fickle fortunes! In the fatal stream,
Whose mouth rejected them, may serpents breed
And poison it for ever!

[Runs R.—returns.
Mrs. F.
(L.)
Wretch! on thee
Shall all my vengeance turn. Ungodly slave!
Thou art the mark unto the wrath of heaven!
I thrived ere I knew thee.

Fos.
(C.)
Would I were dead!

Mrs. F.
Would thou hadst died ere ever I had seen thee!
For I have known no hour of comfort since.

Rich.
Not even a cask or chest—

Fos.
Dam up thy mouth!
But now thy baleful utterance was choak'd,
And now it runs too fast!—Undone!—Undone!
Ruin'd past hope!—my utmost credit strain'd
To buy a venture which the waves have drunk!—
What worse can woe report?

Mrs. F.
Yes, worse than all—
Our enemies will triumph in our fall!

[Richard goes up the Stage.
Fos.
The place that I assign'd my thriftless brother,
Ludgate, must now be mine.—I scorn'd my child!—
Now he may scorn his father!

Mrs. F.
Scorn him still?—

Fos.
I will—I will—would he my wants relieve,
I'd scorn to take what he would deign to give.
My heart be still my friend, although no other,
No help will I from either, son or brother!
My portion's begging now! seldom before
In one sad hour was man so rich and poor!

[Exeunt, L.