SCENE I._--In the Grounds of_ D'AMVILLE'S _Mansion.

_Enter_ D'AMVILLE, BORACHIO, _and_ Attendants.

_D'Am._ I saw my nephew Charlemont but now Part from his father. Tell him I desire To speak with him. [_Exit_ Servant. Borachio, thou art read In nature and her large philosophy. Observ'st thou not the very self-same course Of revolution, both in man and beast?

_Bor._ The same, for birth, growth, state, decay and death; Only a man's beholding to his nature For the better composition o' the two.

_D'Am._ But where that favour of his nature is Not full and free, you see a man becomes A fool, as little-knowing as a beast.

_Bor._ That shows there's nothing in a man above His nature; if there were, considering 'tis His being's excellency, 'twould not yield To nature's weakness.

_D'Am._ Then, if Death casts up Our total sum of joy and happiness, Let me have all my senses feasted in The abundant fulness of delight at once, And, with a sweet insensible increase Of pleasing surfeit, melt into my dust.

_Bor._ That revolution is too short, methinks. If this life comprehends our happiness, How foolish to desire to die so soon! And if our time runs home unto the length Of nature, how improvident it were To spend our substance on a minute's pleasure, And after, live an age in misery!

_D'Am._ So thou conclud'st that pleasure only flows Upon the stream of riches?

_Bor._ Wealth is lord Of all felicity.

_D'Am._ 'Tis, oracle. For what's a man that's honest without wealth?

_Bor._ Both miserable and contemptible.

_D'Am._ He's worse, Borachio. For if charity Be an essential part of honesty, And should be practised first upon ourselves, Which must be granted, then your honest man That's poor, is most dishonest, for he is Uncharitable to the man whom he Should most respect. But what doth this touch me That seem to have enough?--thanks industry. 'Tis true, had not my body spread itself Into posterity, perhaps I should Desire no more increase of substance, than Would hold proportion with mine own dimensions. Yet even in that sufficiency of state, A man has reason to provide and add. For what is he hath such a present eye, And so prepared a strength, that can foresee, And fortify his substance and himself Against those accidents, the least whereof May rob him of an age's husbandry? And for my children, they are as near to me As branches to the tree whereon they grow; And may as numerously be multiplied. As they increase, so should my providence; For from my substance they receive the sap, Whereby they live and flourish.

_Bor._ Sir, enough. I understand the mark whereat you aim.

_Enter_ CHARLEMONT.

_D'Am._ Silence, we are interrupted. Charlemont!

_Charl._ Good morrow, uncle.

_D'Am._ Noble Charlemont, Good morrow. Is not this the honoured day You purposed to set forward to the war?

_Charl._ My inclination did intend it so.

_D'Am._ And not your resolution?

_Charl._ Yes, my lord; Had not my father contradicted it.

_D'Am._ O noble war! Thou first original Of all man's honour, how dejectedly The baser spirit of our present time Hath cast itself below the ancient worth Of our forefathers, from whose noble deeds Ignobly we derive our pedigrees.

_Charl._ Sir, tax not me for his unwillingness. By the command of his authority My disposition's forced against itself.

_D'Am._ Nephew, you are the honour of our blood. The troop of gentry, whose inferior worth Should second your example, are become Your leaders; and the scorn of their discourse Turns smiling back upon your backwardness.

_Charl._ You need not urge my spirit by disgrace, 'Tis free enough; my father hinders it. To curb me, he denies me maintenance To put me in the habit of my rank. Unbind me from that strong necessity,-- And call me coward, if I stay behind.

_D'Am._ For want of means? Borachio, where's the gold? I'd disinherit my posterity To purchase honour. 'Tis an interest I prize above the principal of wealth. I'm glad I had the occasion to make known How readily my substance shall unlock Itself to serve you. Here's a thousand crowns.

_Charl._ My worthy uncle, in exchange for this I leave my bond; so I am doubly bound; By that, for the repayment of this gold, And by this gold, to satisfy your love.

_D'Am._ Sir, 'tis a witness only of my love, And love doth always satisfy itself. Now to your father, labour his consent, My importunity shall second yours. We will obtain it.

_Charl._ If entreaty fail, The force of reputation shall prevail. [_Exit._

_D'Am._ Go call my sons, that they may take their leaves Of noble Charlemont. Now, my Borachio!

_Bor._ The substance of our former argument Was wealth.

_D'Am._ The question, how to compass it.

_Bor._ Young Charlemont is going to the war.

_D'Am._ O, thou begin'st to take me!

_Bor._ Mark me then. Methinks the pregnant wit of man might make The happy absence of this Charlemont A subject of commodious providence. He has a wealthy father, ready even To drop into his grave. And no man's power, When Charlemont is gone, can interpose 'Twixt you and him.

_D'Am._ Thou hast apprehended both My meaning and my love. Now let thy trust, For undertaking and for secrecy Hold measure with thy amplitude of wit; And thy reward shall parallel thy worth.

_Bor._ My resolution has already bound Me to your service.

_D'Am._ And my heart to thee.

_Enter_ ROUSARD _and_ SEBASTIAN.

Here are my sons.-- There's my eternity. My life in them And their succession shall for ever live. And in my reason dwells the providence To add to life as much of happiness. Let all men lose, so I increase my gain, I have no feeling of another's pain. [_Exeunt._