SCENE I.[4064

[_Enter_ LORD] LOVELL, ALLWORTH, _and_ Servants.

_Lov._ Walk the horses down the hill: something in private I must impart to Allworth. _Exeunt_ Servants.

_All._ O, my lord, What a sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching, Although I could put off the use of sleep, And ever wait on your commands to serve ’em; 5 What dangers, though in ne’er so horrid shapes, Nay death itself, though I should run to meet it, Can I, and with a thankful willingness, suffer! But still the retribution will fall short Of your bounties shower’d upon me.

_Lov._ Loving youth, 10 Till what I purpose be put into act, Do not o’erprize it; since you have trusted me With your soul’s nearest, nay, her dearest secret, Rest confident ’t is in a cabinet lock’d Treachery shall never open. I have found you 15 (For so much to your face I must profess, Howe’er you guard your modesty with a blush for ’t) More zealous in your love and service to me Than I have been in my rewards.

_All._ Still great ones, Above my merit.

_Lov._ Such your gratitude calls ’em; 20 Nor am I of that harsh and rugged temper As some great men are tax’d[4065] with, who imagine They part from the respect due to their honours If they use not all such as follow ’em, 24 Without distinction of their births, like slaves. I am not so condition’d; I can make A fitting difference between my foot boy And a gentleman by want compell’d to serve me.

_All._ ’T is thankfully acknowledg’d: you have been More like a father to me than a master. 30 Pray you, pardon the comparison.

_Lov._ I allow it: And, to give you assurance I am pleas’d in ’t, My carriage and demeanour to your mistress, Fair Margaret, shall truly witness for me I can command my passions.

_All._ ’T is a conquest 35 Few lords can boast of when they are tempted—Oh!

_Lov._ Why do you sigh? Can you be doubtful of me? By that fair name I in the wars have purchas’d, And all my actions, hitherto untainted, I will not be more true to mine own honour 40 Than to my Allworth!

_All._ As you are the brave Lord Lovell, Your bare word only given is an assurance Of more validity and weight to me Than all the oaths, bound up with imprecations, Which, when they would deceive, most courtiers practise; 45 Yet being a man, (for, sure, to style you more Would relish of gross flattery,) I am forc’d, Against my confidence of your worth and virtues, To doubt, nay, more, to fear.

_Lov._ So young, and jealous!

_All._ Were you to encounter with a single foe, The victory were certain; but to stand 51 The charge of two such potent enemies, At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty, And those too seconded with power, is odds Too great for Hercules.

_Lov._ Speak your doubts and fears, 55 Since you will nourish ’em, in plainer language, That I may understand them.

_All._ What ’s your will, Though I lend arms against myself, (provided They may advantage you,) must be obeyed. My much-lov’d lord, were Margaret only fair, 60 The cannon of her more than earthly form, Though mounted high, commanding all beneath it, And ramm’d with bullets of her sparkling eyes, Of all the bulwarks that defend your senses Could batter none, but that which guards your sight. 65 But when the well-tun’d accents of her tongue Make music to you, and with numerous[4066] sounds Assault your hearing, (such as if Ulysses Now liv’d again, howe’er he stood the Syrens, Could not resist,) the combat must grow doubtful 70 Between your reason and rebellious passions. Add this too; when you feel her touch, and breath Like a soft western wind when it glides o’er Arabia, creating gums and spices; And, in the van, the nectar of her lips, 75 Which you must taste, bring the battalia on, Well arm’d, and strongly lin’d[4067] with her discourse, And knowing manners, to give entertainment;— Hippolytus himself would leave Diana, To follow such a Venus.

_Lov._ Love hath made you 80 Poetical, Allworth.

_All._ Grant all these beat off, Which if it be in man to do, you ’ll do it, Mammon, in Sir Giles Overreach, steps in With heaps of ill-got gold, and so much land, To make her more remarkable, as would tire 85 A falcon’s wings in one day to fly over. O my good lord! these powerful aids, which would Make a mis-shapen negro beautiful, (Yet are but ornaments to give her lustre, That in herself is all perfection,) must 90 Prevail for her. I here release your trust; ’T is happiness enough for me to serve you And sometimes, with chaste eyes, to look upon her.

_Lov._ Why, shall I swear?

_All._ O, by no means, my lord; And wrong not so your judgment to the world As from your fond indulgence to a boy, 96 Your page, your servant, to refuse a blessing Divers great men are rivals for.

_Lov._ Suspend Your judgment till the trial. How far is it To Overreach’s house?

_All._ At the most, some half hour’s riding; 100 You ’ll soon be there.

_Lov._ And you the sooner freed From your jealous fears.

_All._ O that I durst but hope it! _Exeunt._