SCENE I.--_Outside_ Old Wincott’s _House_.

_Enter_ Old Geraldine _and_ Young Geraldine.

Old Geraldine. Son, let me tell you, you are ill advised, And doubly to be blamed, by undertaking Unnecessary travel, grounding no reason For such a rash and giddy enterprise. What profit aim you at, you have not reaped? What novelty affords the Christian world, Of which your view hath not participated In a full measure? Can you either better Your language or experience? Your self-will Hath only purpose to deprive a father Of a loved son, and many noble friends Of your much-wished acquaintance.

Young Geraldine. Oh, dear sir, Do not, I do entreat you, now repent you Of your free grant, which with such care and study I have so long, so often laboured for.

Old Geraldine. Say that may be dispensed with, show me reason Why you desire to steal out of your country, Like some malefactor that had forfeited His life and freedom. Here’s a worthy gentleman Hath for your sake invited many guests, To his great charge, only to take of you A parting leave: you send him word you cannot-- After, you may not come. Had not my urgence, Almost compulsion, driven you to his house, The unkindness might have forfeited your love, And razed you from his will; in which he hath given you A fair and large estate; yet you of all this strangeness Show no sufficient ground.

Young Geraldine. Then understand The ground thereof took his first birth from you; ’Twas you first charged me to forbear the house, And that upon your blessing. Let it not then Offend you, sir, if I so great a charge Have strived to keep so strictly.

Old Geraldine. Me perhaps You may appease, and with small difficulty, Because a father; but how satisfy Their dear and, on your part, unmerited love? But this your last obedience may salve all. We now grow near the house.

Young Geraldine. Whose doors, to me, Appear as horrid as the gates of Hell. Where shall I borrow patience, or from whence, To give a meeting to this viperous brood Of friend and mistress?

[_They enter the house_.