ACT IV. SCENE I.

_A room in_ SIR FRANCIS CRESSINGHAM′S _house_.

_Enter_ SIR FRANCIS CRESSINGHAM _and Surveyor severally_.

SUR. Where’s master steward? SIR F. CRES. Within: what are you, sir? SUR. A surveyor, sir. SIR F. CRES. And an almanac-maker, I take it: can you tell me what foul weather is toward?[939] SUR. Marry, the foulest weather is, that your land is flying away. [_Exit._ SIR F. CRES. A most terrible prognostication! All the resort, all the business to my house is to my lady and master steward, whilst sir Francis stands for a cipher; I have made away myself and my power, as if I had done it by deed of gift: here comes the comptroller of the game.

_Enter_ SAUNDER.

SAUN. What, are you yet resolved to translate this unnecessary land into ready money? SIR F. CRES. Translate it! SAUN. The conveyances are drawn, and the money ready: my lady sent me to you to know directly if you meant to go through in the sale; if not, she resolves of another course. SIR F. CRES. Thou speakest this cheerfully, methinks; whereas faithful servants were wont to mourn when they beheld the lord that fed and cherished them, as[940] by cursed enchantment, removed into another blood. Cressingham of Cressingham has continued many years, and must the name sink now? SAUN. All this is nothing to my lady’s resolution; it must be done, or she’ll not stay in England: she would know whether your son be sent for, that must likewise set his hand to the sale; for otherwise the lawyers say there cannot be a sure conveyance made to the buyer. SIR F. CRES. Yes, I have sent for him; but, I pray thee, think what a hard task ’twill be for a father to persuade his son and heir to make away his inheritance. SAUN. Nay, for that, use your own logic; I have heard you talk at the sessions terribly against deer-stealers, and that kept you from being put out of the commission. [_Exit._ SIR F. CRES. I do live to see two miseries; one to be commanded by my wife, the other to be censured by my slave.

_Enter_ GEORGE CRESSINGHAM.

G. CRES. That which I have wanted long, and has been cause of my irregular courses, I beseech you let raise me from the ground. [_Kneels._ SIR F. CRES. [_raising him and giving money_] Rise, George; there’s a hundred pounds for you, and my blessing, with these your mother’s favour: but I hear your studies are become too licentious of late. G. CRES. Has heard of my cozenage. [_Aside._ SIR F. CRES. What’s that you are writing? G. CRES. Sir, not any thing. SIR F. CRES. Come, I hear there’s something coming forth of yours will be your undoing. G. CRES. Of mine? SIR F. CRES. Yes, of your writing; somewhat you should write will be dangerous to you. I have a suit to you. G. CRES. Sir, my obedience makes you commander in all things. SIR F. CRES. I pray, suppose I had committed some fault, for which my life and sole estate were forfeit to the law, and that some great man near the king should labour to get my pardon, on condition he might enjoy my lordship, could you prize your father’s life above the grievous loss of your inheritance? G. CRES. Yes, and my own life at stake too. SIR F. CRES. You promise fair; I come now to make trial of it. You know I have married one whom I hold so dear, that my whole life is nothing but a mere estate depending upon her will and her affections to me; she deserves so well, I cannot longer merit than _durante bene placita_: ’tis her pleasure, and her wisdom moves in’t too, of which I'll give you ample satisfaction hereafter, that I sell the land my father left me: you change colour! I have promised her to do’t; and should I fail, I must expect the remainder of my life as full of trouble and vexation as the suit for a divorce: it lies in you, by setting of your hand unto the sale, to add length to his life that gave you yours. G. CRES. Sir, I do now[941] ingeniously perceive why you said lately somewhat I should write would be my undoing, meaning, as I take it, setting my hand to this assurance. O, good sir, shall I pass away my birthright? O, remember there is a malediction denounced against it in holy writ! Will you, for her pleasure, the inheritance of desolation leave to your posterity? think how compassionate the creatures of the field, that only live on the wild benefits of nature,[942] are unto their young ones; think likewise you may have more children by this woman, and by this act you undo them too. ’Tis a strange precedent this, to see an obedient son labouring good counsel to the father; but know, sir, that the spirits of my great-grandfather and your father move[943] at this present in me, and what they bequeathed you on their[944] deathbed, they charge you not to give away in the dalliance of a woman’s bed. Good sir, let it not be thought presumption in me that I have continued my speech unto this length; the cause, sir, is urgent, and, believe it, you shall find her beauty as malevolent unto you as a red morning, that doth still foretell a foul day to follow. O, sir, keep your land! keep that to keep your name immortal, and you shall see All that her malice and proud will procures Shall shew her ugly heart, but hurt not yours. SIR F. CRES. O, I am distracted, and my very soul sends blushes into my cheeks!

_Enter_ GEORGE _with_ MARIA _and_ EDWARD.

G. CRES. See here an object to beget more compassion. GEO. O, sir Francis, we have a most lamentable house at home! nothing to be heard in’t but separation and divorces, and such a noise of the spiritual court, as if it were a tenement upon London Bridge, and built upon the arches. SIR F. CRES. What’s the matter? GEO. All about boarding your children: my mistress is departed. SIR F. CRES. Dead! GEO. In a sort she is, and laid out too, for she is run away from my master. SIR F. CRES. Whither? GEO. Seven miles off, into Essex; she vowed never to leave Barking while she lived, till these were brought home again. SIR F. CRES. O, they shall not offend her: I am sorry for’t. MARIA.[945] I am glad we are come home, sir; for we lived in the unquietest house! EDW. The angry woman, methought, grutched[946] us our victuals; our new mother is a good soul, and loves us, and does not frown so like a vixen as she does. MARIA. I am at home now, and in heaven, methinks: what a comfort ’tis to be under your wing! EDW. Indeed, my mother was wont to call me your nestle-cock, and I love you as well as she did. SIR F. CRES. You are my pretty souls! G. CRES. Does not the prattle of these move you?

_Re-enter_ SAUNDER _with_ KNAVESBY, _and Surveyor_.

SAUN. Look you, sir, here’s the conveyance and my lady’s solicitor; pray resolve what to do, my lady is coming down.—How now, George? how does thy mistress, that sits in a wainscot-gown,[947] like a citizen’s lure to draw in customers? O, she’s a pretty mouse-trap! GEO. She’s ill baited though to take a Welshman, she cannot away with[948] cheese. SIR F. CRES. And what must I do now? KNA. Acknowledge a fine and recovery of the land; then for possession the course is common. SIR F. CRES. Carry back the writings, sir; my mind is changed. SAUN. Changed! do not you mean to seal?

_Enter_ LADY CRESSINGHAM.

SIR F. CRES. No, sir, the tide’s turned. SAUN. You must temper him like wax, or he’ll not seal. L. CRES. Are you come back again?—How now, have you done? MARIA. How do you, lady mother? L. CRES. You are good children.—Bid my woman give them some sweetmeats. MARIA. Indeed, I thank you:—is not this a kind mother? G. CRES. Poor fools, you know not how dear you shall pay for this sugar! [_Exeunt._ GEORGE _with_ MARIA _and_ EDWARD. L. CRES. What, ha’nt you despatched? SIR F. CRES. No, sweetest, I'm dissuaded by my son From the sale o' the land. L. CRES. Dissuaded by your son! SIR F. CRES. I cannot get his hand to’t. L. CRES. Where’s our steward? Cause presently that all my beds and hangings Be taken down; provide carts, pack them up; I'll to my house i' the country: have I studied The way to your preferment and your children’s, And do you cool i' th' upshot? G. CRES. With your pardon, I cannot understand this course a way To any preferment, rather a direct Path to our ruin. L. CRES. O, sir, you’re young-sighted:— Shew them the project of the land I mean To buy in Ireland, that shall outvalue yours Three thousand in a year. KNA. [_shewing map_] Look you, sir; here is Clangibbon, a fruitful country, and well wooded. SIR F. CRES. What’s this? marsh ground? KNA. No, these are bogs, but a little cost will drain them: this upper part, that runs by the black water, is the Cossack’s land,—a spacious country, and yields excellent profit by the salmon and fishing for herring; here runs the Kernesdale, admirable feed for cattle; and hereabout is St. Patrick’s Purgatory.[949] G. CRES. Purgatory? shall we purchase that too? L. CRES. Come, come, will you despatch the other business, We may go through with this? SIR F. CRES. My son’s unwilling. L. CRES. Upon my soul, sir, I'll ne’er bed with you Till you have seal’d. SIR F. CRES. Thou hear’st her: on thy blessing Follow me to the court, and seal. G. CRES. Sir, were it my death, were’t to the loss of my estate, I vow to obey you in all things; yet with it remember there are two young ones living that may curse you; I pray dispose part of the money on their generous educations. L. CRES. Fear no[t] you, sir.—The caroach there!— When you have despatched, you shall find me at the scrivener’s, where I shall receive the money. G. CRES. She’ll devour that mass too. L. CRES. How likest thou my power over him? SAUN. Excellent. L. CRES. This is the height of a great lady’s sway, When her night-service makes her rule i' the day. [_Exeunt._