_Enter_ Allworth _and_ Margaret.
_Allw._ Whether to yield the first praise to my lord's
Unequal'd temperance, or your constant sweetness,
I yet rest doubtful.
_Marg._ Give it to Lord Lovell;
For what in him was bounty, in me's duty.
I make but payment of a debt, to which
My vows, in that high office register'd,
Are faithful witnesses.
_Allw._ 'Tis true, my dearest;
Yet, when I call to mind, how many fair ones
Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths and oaths.
To fill the arms of greatness;
And you, with matchless virtue, thus to hold out,
Against the stern authority of a father,
And spurn at honour, when it comes to court you;
I am so tender of your good, that I can hardly
Wish myself that right you are pleas'd to do me.
_Marg._ To me what's title when content is wanting?
Or wealth, when the heart pines
In being dispossess'd of what it longs for?
Or the smooth brow
Of a pleas'd sire, that slaves me to his will?
And, so his ravenous humour may be feasted
By my obedience, and he see me great,
Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power
To make her own election.
_Allw._ But the dangers
That follow the repulse.
_Marg._ To me they are nothing:
Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy.
Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me;
A tear or two by you drop'd on my hearse,
In sorrow for my fate, will call back life,
So far as but to say, that I die yours,
I then shall rest in peace.
_Allw._ Heaven avert
Such trials of your true affection to me!
Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy,
Show so much rigour. But since we must run
Such desperate hazards, let us do our best
To steer between them.
_Marg._ Lord Lovell is your friend;
And, though but a young actor, second me,
In doing to the life what he has plotted.
_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach.
The end may yet prove happy: now, my Allworth.
_Allw._ To your letter, and put on a seeming anger.
_Marg._ I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title,
And, when, with terms not taking from his honour
He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him:
But in this peremptory, nay, commanding, way,
T'appoint a meeting, and without my knowledge;
A priest to tie the knot, can ne'er be undone
Till death unloose it, is a confidence
In his lordship that will deceive him.
_Allw._ I hope better, good lady.
_Marg._ Hope, sir, what you please: for me,
I must take a safe and secure course; I have
A father, and without his full consent,
Though all lords of the land kneel'd for my favour,
I can grant nothing.
_Sir G._ I like this obedience.
But whatsoever my lord writes, must and shall be
Accepted and embrac'd. [_Aside._]--Sweet Mr. Allworth,
You show yourself a true and faithful servant
To your good lord; he has a jewel of you.
How! frowning, Meg! are these looks to receive
A messenger from my lord? What's this? give me it.
_Marg._ A piece of arrogant paper, like th'inscriptions.
[Sir Giles _reads the letter_.
Fair mistress, from your servant learn, all joys
That we can hope for, if deferr'd prove toys;
Therefore this instant, and in private, meet
A husband, that will gladly at your feet
Lay down his honours, tend'ring them to you
With all content, the church being paid her due.
_Sir G._ Is this the arrogant piece of paper? fool!
Will you still be one? In the name of madness, what
Could his good honour write more to content you?
Is there aught else to be wish'd after these two
That are already offer'd?
What would you more?
_Marg._ Why, sir, I would be married like your daughter,
Not hurried away i'th' night, I know not whither,
Without all ceremony; no friends invited,
To honour the solemnity.
_Allw._ An't please your honour,
(For so before tomorrow 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, Mr. Allworth, how my lord
May be provided, and therefore there's a purse
Of gold: 'twill serve this night's expense; tomorrow
I'll furnish him with any sums. In the meantime
Use my ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed
At my manor of Gotham, and call'd Parson Welldo:
'Tis no matter for a license, I'll bear him out in't.
_Marg._ With your favour, sir, what warrant is your ring?
He may suppose I got that twenty ways,
Without your knowledge; and then to be refus'd,
Were such a stain upon me--If you please, sir,
Your presence would be better.
_Sir G._ Still perverse?
I say again, I will not cross my lord,
Yet I'll prevent you too--Paper and ink there.
_Allw._ I can furnish you.
_Sir G._ I thank you, I can write then.
[_Writes on his Book._
_Allw._ You may, if you please, leave out the name of my lord,
In respect he comes disguis'd, and only write,
Marry her to this gentleman.
_Sir G._ Well advis'd. [Margaret _kneels_.
'Tis done: away--my blessing, girl? thou hast it.
Nay, no reply--begone, good Mr. Allworth;
This shall be the best night's work you ever made.
_Allw._ I hope so, sir.
[_Exeunt_ Allworth _and_ Margaret.
_Sir G._ Farewell. Now all's cocksure.
Methinks I hear already knights and ladies
Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with
Your honourable daughter? has her honour
Slept well tonight? or, will her honour please
To accept this monkey, dog, or paroquet?
(This is state in ladies) or my eldest son
To be her page, to wait upon her?----
My ends, my ends are compass'd! then for Wellborn
And the lands; were he once married to the widow--
I have him here----I can scarce contain myself,
I am so full of joy; nay, joy all over! [_Exit._