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?
Marg. Why, sir, I would be married like your
daughter;

Not hurried away i'the 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,
My lord desires this privacy, in respect
His honourable kinsmen are far off,
And his desires to have it done, brook not
So long delay as to expect their coming;
And yet he stands resolv'd, with all due pomp
To have his marriage at court celebrated,
When he has brought your honour up to London.
Sir G. He tells you true; 'tis the fashion, on my
knowledge:

Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness,
Must put it off, forsooth!

Marg. I could be contented,

Were you but by, to do a father's part,
And give me in the church.

Sir G. 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
Of gold: 'twill serve this night's expense; to-

Sir G. Well advis’d— 'Tis done. Away!

(Gives Allworth the paper; Margaret kneels.) My blessing? Girl, thou hast it: Nay, no reply. Begone, good Master Allworth: This shall be the best night's work you ever made. All. I hope so, sir. [Exeunt Marg, and Allw. Sir G. Now all's cock-sure. Methinks I hear already knights and ladies Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with Your honourable daughter?

My ends, my ends are compass'd! Then, for Wellborn

And the lands; were he once married to the widow; I have him here. (Touching his forehead.) I can scarce contain myself,

I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over!

ACT V.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-The Hall in Lady Allworth's house.

Enter LOVELL and LADY ALLWORTH. Lady. By this, you know how strong the motives

were,

That did, my lord, induce me to dispense

A little with my gravity, to advance
The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn.
Lov. What you intended, madam,
For the poor gentleman, bath found good success;
For, as I understand, his debts are paid,
And he once more furnish'd for fair employment:
But all the arts that I have us'd to raise
The fortunes of your joy and mine, young Allworth,
Stand yet in supposition: though I hope well;
For the young lovers are in wit more pregnant
Than their years can promise.

Lady. Though my wishes

Are with your's, my lord: yet give me leave to fear
The building, though well-grounded. To deceive
Sir Giles, that's both a lion and a fox

In his proceedings, were a work beyond
The strongest undertakers; not the trial
Of two weak innocents.

Lov. Despair not, madam:

Hard things are compass'd oft by easy means. The cunning statesman, that believes, he fathoms The counsels of all kingdoms on the earth,

Is by simplicity oft over-reach'd.

Lady. May he be so!

The young ones have my warmest wishes with them.
Lov. O, gentle lady, prove as kind to me!
You've deign'd to hear, now grant, my honest suit;
And if you may be won to make me happy,
But join your hand to mine, and that shall be
A solemn contract.

Lady. I were blind to my own good,
Should I refuse it; yet, my lord, receive me
As such a one, the study of whose whole life
Shall know no other object but to please you.

Lov. If I return not, with all tenderness, Equal respect to you, may I die wretched! Lady. There needs no protestation, my lord, To her that cannot doubt.

Enter WELLborn.

You're welcome, sir:
Now you look like yourself.

Well. And will continue

Such, in my free acknowledgement that I am
Your creature, madam; and will never hold
My life mine own, when you please to command it.
Lov. It is a thankfulness that well becomes you.
Lady. For me, I am happy,

That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late
Sir Giles, your uncle?

Well. I heard of him, madam,

By his minister, Marrall. He's grown into strange passions

About his daughter: this last night, he look'd for
Your lordship at his home; but, missing you,
And Margaret not appearing, he is coming
To seek her here at Lady Allworth's house.
His wise head is much perplex'd and troubled.
Lov. I hope my project took.
Lady. I strongly hope it.

(Sir Giles and Marrall without.) Sir G. (Without.) Ha! find my daughter, thou huge lump of nothing,

I'll bore thine eyes out else.

Well. May it please your lordship,

For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw
A little out of sight, though not of hearing,
You may, perhaps, have sport.

Lov. You shall direct me.

[Exit.

Sir G. (Without.) Idiot! booby! booby! Mar. (Without.) 0, 0, 0!

Sir G. (Without.) I shall sol-fa you, rogue! Mar. (Without.) Sir, for what cause

Do you use me thus?

Enter SIR GILES with distracted looks, driving in

MARRALL before him.

Sir G. Cause, slave? Why, I am angry,

Sir G. Though the witnesses are dead, your testimony,

Help'd with an oath or two, and for thy master,
Thy liberal master, my good honest servant,
I know, thou wilt swear anything,—to dash
This cunning sleight:

The deed being drawn, too,

By thee, my careful Marrall, and deliver'd

When thou wast present, will make good my title. Wilt thou not swear this?

Mar. I! No, I assure you! (Breaks from him.) I have a conscience, not sear'd up, like your's: I know no deeds.

Sir G. Wilt thou betray me?

Mar. Keep him

(Drawing his sword.)

(Wellborn opposes him.)

From using of his hands; I'll use my tongue
To his no little torment.

Sir G. Mine own varlet

Rebel against me!

Mar. Yes, and uncase you too.

The idiot, the patch, the slave, the booby,

Your drudge, can now anatomise you, and lay open
All your black plots, and level with the earth
Your hill of pride; and shake,

Nay, pulverize, the walls you think defend you.
Sir G. O! that I had thee in my gripe! I'd tear

thee

You dare do any ill; yet want true valour,

To be honest and repent.

Sir G. They're words I know not,

Enter two Servants of Sir Giles's, MARGARET, and ALLWORTH.

Marg. (Kneels.) Sir, first your pardon, then your blessing, with

Your full allowance of the choice I've made.
Not to dwell

Too long on words, this is my husband.
Sir G. How!

Allw. So I assure you all the rites of marriage,
With every circumstance, are past:
And for right honourable son-in-law, you may say,
Your dutiful daughter.

Sir G. Devil! Are they married?

Will. Do a father's part, and say, Heaven give 'em joy!

Sir G. Confusion and ruin! Speak, and speak quickly,

Or thou art dead.

Will. They're married.

Sir G. Thou hadst better

(Seizes Willdo.)

Nor will I e'er believe it-'Sdeath! I will not,
That I, who never left a print

Where I have trod, for the most curious search
To trace my footsteps, should be gull'd by children!
Baffled and fool'd, and all my hopes and labours
Defeated and made void.

Well. As it appears,
You are so, my grave uncle.
Sir G. Village nurses

[Willdo retires.

Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste
A syllable, but thus I take the life'
Which, wretched, I gave to thee.

(Offers to kill Margaret.) Lov. (Stopping him.) Hold, for your own sake! If charity to your daughter have quite left you: Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here,

Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter?
Consider, at the best, you're but a man ;
And cannot so create your aims, but that
They may be cross'd.

Sir G. Lord! thus I spit at thee,

And at thy counsel; and again desire thee,

Enter two of Sir Giles's Servants.

Lady. Whom have we here?

Sir G. After these storms,

At length, a calm appears. My chaplain comes.

Enter Parson WILLDO, with a letter in his hand. Welcome; most welcome!

There's comfort in thy looks! Is the deed done? Is my daughter married? Say but so, my chaplain, And I am tame.

Will. Married? Yes, I assure you. Sir G. Then vanish all sad thoughts! My doubts and fears are in the titles drown'd Of my honourable, my right honourable daughter. Now, you that plot against me,

And hop'd to trip my heels up, that contemn'd me, Think on't and tremble.

Enter LOVELL, behind.

They come! I hear the music.

A lane there, for my lord!

Well. This sudden heat

May yet be cool'd, sir.

(Music.)

Sir G. Make way there for my lady and my lord.

(Music.)

Dares shew itself where multitude and example Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change Six words in private.

Lov. I am ready.

Lady. Stay, sir.

Contest with one distracted?

Well. You'll grow like him

Should you answer his vain challenge.
Sir G. Are you pale?

Borrow their helps: though Hercules call it odds,
I'll stand 'gainst all, as I am, hemm'd in thus.
Say, there were a squadron

Of pikes, lin'd through with shot, when I am mounted

Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge 'em?
No: I'll through the battalia, and that routed,
I'll fall to execution. (Attempts to draw his sword.)

Ha! I'm feeble:

Some undone widow sits upon mine arm,
And takes away the use of't; and my sword,
Glued to my scabbard with wrong'd orphan's tears,
Will not be drawn.

Ha! what are these? Sure, hangmen,

That come to bind my hands, and then to drag me Before the judgment-seat. Now, they are new shapes,

And do appear like Furies, with steel whips
To scourge my ulcerous soul; Shall I then fall

SCENE 1.-A Garden belonging to Sciolto's Palace. Enter ALTAMONT and HORATIO.

Alt. Let this auspicious day be ever sacred; No mourning, no misfortunes happen on it: Let it be mark'd for triumphs and rejoicings; Let happy lovers ever make it holy,

Choose it to bless their hopes, and crown their wishes;

This happy day, that gives me my Calista.

Hor. Yes, Altamont; to-day thy better stars Are join'd to shed their kindest influence on thee; Sciolto's noble hand, that rais'd thee first, Half dead and drooping o'er thy father's grave, Completes its bounty, and restores thy name To that high rank and lustre which it boasted, Before ungrateful Genoa had forgot The merit of thy god-like father's arms; Before that country, which he long bad serv'd In watchful councils and in winter camps, Had cast off his white age to want and wretched

ness,

And made their court to factions by his ruin.
Alt. Oh, great Sciolto! Oh, my more than
father!

Let me not live, but at thy very name
My eager heart springs up, and leaps with joy.
When I forget the vast, vast debt I owe thee,-
(Forget!-but 'tis impossible) then let me
Forget the use and privilege of reason;
Be driven from the commerce of mankind,
To wander in the desert among brutes,
To be the scorn of earth, and curse of heaven!
Hor. So open, so unbounded was his goodness,

It reach'd even me, because I was thy friend.
When that great man I lov'd, thy noble father,
Bequeath'd thy gentle sister to my arms,
His last dear pledge and legacy of friendship,
That happy tie made me Sciolto's son;

He call'd us his, and, with a parent's fondness,
Indulg'd us in his wealth, bless'd as with plenty,
Heal'd all our cares, and sweeten'd love itself.

Alt. By heaven, he found my fortunes so aban

don'd,

That nothing but a miracle could raise 'em:
My father's bounty, and the state's ingratitude,
Had stripp'd him bare, nor left him e'en a grave.
Undone myself, and sinking in his ruin,

I had no wealth to bring, nothing to succour him,
But fruitless tears.

Hor. Yet what thou couldst thou didst, And didst it like a son; when his hard creditors, Urg'd and assisted by Lothario's father, (Foe to thy house, and rival of their greatness,) By sentence of the cruel law forbade His venerable corpse to rest in earth, Thou gav'st thyself a ransom for his bones; Heav'n, who beheld the pious act, approv'd it, And bade Sciolto's bounty be its proxy, To bless thy filial virtue with abundauce.

Alt. But see, he comes, the author of my happi

ness,

The man who sav'd my life from deadly sorrow, Who bids my days be blest with peace and plenty, And satisfies my soul with love and beauty.

Enter SCIOLTO; he runs to Altamont, and embraces him.

Sei. Joy to thee, Altamont! Joy to myself!