Chapter 5

_Enter_ Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, Furnace, Watchall, _and_ Marall.

_Greedy._ Not to be seen?

_Sir G._ Still cloister'd up?--Her reason, I hope, assures her, though she makes herself Close prisoner for ever for her husband's loss, 'Twill not recover him.

_Order._ Sir, it is her will: Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve, And not dispute. Howe'er, you are nobly welcome: And if you please to stay, that you may think so, There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pipe Of rich Canary; which shall spend itself For my lady's honour.

_Greedy._ Is it of the right race?

_Order._ Yes, Mr. Greedy.

_Amble._ How his mouth runs o'er!

_Fur._ I'll make it run, and run. 'Save your good worship!

_Greedy._ Honest Mr. Cook, thy hand; again!--How I love thee! Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.

_Fur._ If you have a mind to feed there is a chine Of beef, well season'd.

_Greedy._ Good.

_Fur._ A pheasant larded--

_Greedy._ That I might now give thanks for't!

_Fur._ Other kickshaws. Besides, there came last night, from the forest of Sherwood, The fattest stag I ever cook'd.

_Greedy._ A stag, man?

_Fur._ A stag, sir; part of it is prepar'd for dinner, And bak'd in puff-paste.

_Greedy._ Puff-paste too, Sir Giles! A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded! And red deer too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-paste! All business set aside, let us give thanks here.

_Sir G._ You know, we cannot.

_Mar._ Your worships are to sit on a commission, And if you fail to come, you lose the cause.

_Greedy_ Cause me no causes: I'll prove't, for such a dinner, We may put off a commission; you shall find it _Henrici decimo quarto_.

_Sir G._ Fie, Mr. Greedy! Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner? No more, for shame! We must forget the belly, When we think of profit.

_Greedy_ Well, you shall o'er-rule me. I could even cry now. Do you hear, Mr. Cook? Send but a corner of that immortal pasty; And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy, Send you a brace of three-pences.

_Fur._ Will you be so prodigal?

_Sir G._ Remember me to your lady.

_Enter_ Wellborn.

Who have we here?

_Wellb._ Don't you know me?

_Sir G._ I did once, but now I will not; Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar! If ever thou presume to own me more, I'll have thee cag'd and whipt.

_Greedy._ I'll grant the warrant. [_Exit_ Marall. I do love thee, Furnace, E'en as I do malmsey in a morning. Think of pye-corner, Furnace!

[_Exeunt_ Sir Giles _and_ Greedy.

_Watch._ Will you out, sir? I wonder how you durst creep in.

_Order._ This is rudeness, And saucy impudence.

_Amble._ Cannot you stay To be serv'd among your fellows from the basket, But you must press into the hall?

_Fur._ Pr'ythee, vanish Into some outhouse, though it be the pigsty; My scullion shall come to thee.

_Enter_ Allworth.

_Wellb._ This is rare: Oh, here is Tom Allworth! Tom!

_Allw._ We must be strangers; Nor would I have seen you here for a million.

[_Exit._

_Wellb._ Better and better. He contemns me too.

_Enter_ Woman _and_ Chambermaid.

_Woman._ Oh! what a smell's here? What thing is this?

_Cham._ Oh! a filthy creature! Let us hence, for love's sake, or I shall swoon!

_Woman._ I begin to faint, too. [_Exeunt._

_Watch._ Will you know your way?

_Amble._ Or shall we teach it you, By the head and shoulders?

_Wellb._ No; I will not stir: Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves Created only to make legs, and cringe; To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher; That have not souls to hope a blessing Beyond your master's leavings; you that were born Only to consume meat and drink; Who advances? Who shows me the way?

_Order._ Here comes my lady.

_Enter_ Lady Allworth.

_Lady A._ What noise is this?

_Wellb._ Madam, my designs bear me to you.

_Lady A._ To me?

_Wellb._ And though I have met with But ragged entertainment from your groom here, I hope from you to receive that noble usage, As may become the true friend of your husband; And then I shall forget these.

_Lady A._ I am amaz'd, To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think, Though sworn, that it can ever find belief, That I, who to the best men of this country Denied my presence since my husband's death, Can fall so low as to change words with thee?

_Wellb._ Scorn me not, good lady; But, as in form you are angelical, Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe At least awhile to hear me. You will grant, The blood that runs in this arm is as noble As that which fills your veins; your swelling titles, Equipage and fortune; your men's observance, And women's flattery, are in you no virtues; Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it; Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more Than in the pious sorrow you have shown For your late noble husband.

_Order._ How she starts!

_Wellb._ That husband, madam, was once in his fortune, Almost as low as I. Want, debts, and quarrels, Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought A boast in me, though I say, I reliev'd him. 'Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword That did on all occasions second his; I brought him on and off with honour, lady: And when in all men's judgments he was sunk, And in his own hopes not to be buoyed up; I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand, And brought him to the shore.

_Fur._ Are not we base rogues That could forget this?

_Wellb._ I confess you made him Master of your estate; nor could your friends. Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for't: For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind Made up of all parts, either great or noble, So winning a behaviour, not to be Resisted, madam.

_Lady A._ 'Tis most true, he had.

_Wellb._ For his sake then, in that I was his friend, Do not contemn me.

_Lady A._ For what's past excuse me; I will redeem it. Order, give this gentleman an hundred pounds.

_Wellb._ Madam, on no terms: I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you; But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever. Only one suit I make, which you deny not To strangers; and 'tis this: pray give me leave.

[_Whispers to her._

_Order._ [_Aside._] What means this, I trow?

_Fur._ Mischief to us, if he has malice To return our favour to him.

_Order._ Be still, and let us mark.

_Lady A._ Fie, nothing else?

_Wellb._ Nothing; unless you please to charge your servants To throw away a little respect upon me.

_Lady A._ What you demand is yours. If you have said all, When you please you may retire.

_Wellb._ I thank you, lady.

[_Exit_ Lady Allworth.

Now what can be wrought out of such a suit, Is yet in supposition. [Servants _bow_,] Nay, all's forgotten, all forgiven.

_All._ Good, dear, sweet, merry Mr. Wellborn!

_Exit_ Servants.

_Wellb._ 'Faith, a right worthy and a liberal lady, Who can, at once, so kindly meet my purposes, And brave the flouts of censure, to redeem Her husband's friend! When, by this honest plot, The world believes she means to heal my wants With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor Will be struck mute, and I be left at large To practise on my uncle Overreach; Whose foul, rapacious spirit, (on the hearing Of my encouragement from this rich lady,) Again will court me to his house and patronage. Here I may work the measure to redeem My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripped me of, When youth and dissipation quell'd my reason. The fancy pleases--if the plot succeed, 'Tis a new way to pay old debts indeed!

[_Exit._