SCENE III.[4101

_Enter_ ALLWORTH _and_ MARGARET.

_All._ Whether to yield the first praise to my lord’s Unequall’d temperance or your constant sweetness That I yet live, my weak hands fasten’d on Hope’s anchor, spite of all storms of despair, I yet rest doubtful.

_Marg._ Give it to Lord Lovell: 5 For what in him was bounty, in me’s duty. I make but payment of a debt to which My vows, in that high office regist’red, Are faithful witnesses.

_All._ ’T is true, my dearest: Yet, when I call to mind how many fair ones 10 Make wilful shipwrecks of their faiths, and oaths To God and man, to fill the arms of greatness, And you rise up [no][4102] less than a glorious star, To the amazement of the world,—hold out Against the stern authority of a father, 15 And spurn at honour when it comes to court you; I am so tender of your good, that faintly, With your wrong, I can wish myself that right You yet are pleas’d to do me.

_Marg._ Yet, and ever. To me what’s title, when content is wanting? 20 Or wealth, rak’d up together with much care. And to be kept with more, when the heart pines In being dispossess’d of what it longs for Beyond the Indian mines? or the smooth brow Of a pleas’d sire, that slaves me to his will, 25 And, so his ravenous humour may be feasted By my obedience, and he see me great, Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power To make her own election?

_All._ But the dangers That follow the repulse——

_Marg._ To me they are nothing; 30 Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy. Suppose the worst, that, in his rage, he kill me, A tear or two, by you dropt on my hearse In sorrow for my fate, will call back life So far as but to say, that I die yours; 35 I then shall rest in peace: or should he prove So cruel, as one death would not suffice His thirst of vengeance, but with ling’ring torments In mind and body I must waste to air, In poverty join’d with banishment; so you share 40 In my afflictions, which I dare not wish you, So high I prize you, I could undergo ’em With such a patience as should look down With scorn on his worst malice.

_All._ Heaven avert Such trials of your true affection to me! 45 Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy, Shew so much rigour: but since we must run Such desperate hazards, let us do our best To steer between them.

_Marg._ Your lord’s ours, and sure: And, though but a young actor, second me 50 In doing to the life what he has plotted. _Enter_ OVERREACH [_behind_]. The end may yet prove happy. Now, my Allworth— [_Seeing her father_.]

_All._ To your letter, and put on a seeming anger.

_Marg._ I’ll pay my lord all debts due to his title; And when with terms, not taking from his honour, 55 He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him. But in this peremptory, nay, commanding way, To appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge, A priest to tie the knot can ne’er be undone Till death unloose it, is a confidence 60 In his lordship will deceive him.

_All._ I hope better, Good lady.

_Marg._ Hope, sir, what you please: for me I must take a safe and secure course; I have A father, and without his full consent, Though all lords of the land kneel’d for my favor, 65 I can grant nothing.

_Over._ I like this obedience: [_Comes forward._] But whatso’er my lord writes, must and shall be Accepted and embrac’d. Sweet Master Allworth, You shew yourself a true and faithful servant To your good lord; he has a jewel of you. 70 How! frowning, Meg? Are these looks to receive A messenger from my lord? What ’s this? Give me it.

_Marg._ A piece of arrogant paper, like th’ inscriptions.

_Over._ (_reads._) “Fair mistress, from your servant learn all joys That we can hope for, if deferr’d, prove toys;[4103] Therefore this instant, and in private, meet 76 A husband, that will gladly at your feet Lay down his honours, tend’ring them to you With all content, the church being paid her due.” —Is this the arrogant piece of paper? Fool! 80 Will you still be one? In the name of madness what Could his good honour write more to content you? Is there aught else to be wish’d, after these two, That are already offer’d; marriage first, And lawful pleasure after: what would you more? 85

_Marg._ Why, sir, I would be married like your daughter; Not hurried away i’ th’ night I know not whither, Without all ceremony; no friends invited To honour the solemnity.

_All._ An ’t please your honour, For so before to-morrow I must style you, 90 My lord desires this privacy, in respect His honourable kinsmen are afar off, And his desires to have it done brook not So long delay as to expect[4104] their coming; And yet he stands resolv’d, with all due pomp, 95 As running at the ring, plays, masques, and tilting, To have his marriage at court celebrated, When he has brought your honour up to London.

_Over._ He tells you true: ’t is the fashion, on my knowledge: Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness, 100 Must put it off, forsooth! and lose a night, In which perhaps he might get two boys on thee. Tempt me no further, if you do, this goad [_Points to his sword._] Shall prick you to him.

_Marg._ I could be contented, Were you but by, to do a father’s part, 105 And give me in the church.

_Over._ So my lord have you, What do I care who gives you? Since my lord Does purpose to be private, I ’ll not cross him. I know not, Master Allworth, how my lord May be provided, and therefore there’s a purse 110 Of gold, ’t will serve this night’s expense; tomorrow I ’ll furnish him with any sums. In the mean time, Use my ring to my chaplain; he is benefic’d At my manor of Gotham, and call’d Parson Willdo. ’T is no matter for a licence, I ’ll bear him out in ’t; 115

_Marg._ With your favour, sir, what warrant is your ring? He may suppose I got that twenty ways, Without your knowledge; and then to be refus’d Were such a stain upon me!—If you pleas’d, sir, Your presence would do better.

_Over._ Still perverse! 120 I say again, I will not cross my lord; Yet I ’ll prevent[4105] you too.—Paper and ink, there!

_All._ I can furnish you.

_Over._ I thank you, I can write then. _Writes on his book._

_All._ You may, if you please, put out the name of my lord, In respect he comes disguis’d, and only write, 125 “Marry her to this gentleman.”

_Over._ Well advis’d. ’T is done; away;—(MARGARET _kneels._) My blessing, girl? Thou hast it. Nay, no reply, be gone.—Good Master Allworth, This shall be the best night’s work you ever made.

_All._ I hope so, sir. 130

_Exeunt_ ALLWORTH _and_ MARGARET.

_Over._ Farewell!—Now all ’s cocksure: Methinks I hear already knights and ladies Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with Your honourable daughter? Has her honour Slept well to-night? or, will her honour please 135 To accept this monkey, dog, or paraquit[4106] (This is state in ladies), or my eldest son To be her page, and wait upon her trencher? My ends, my ends are compass’d!—then for Wellborn And the lands: were he once married to the widow, 140 I have him here.—I can scarce contain myself, I am so full of joy, nay, joy all over. _Exit._