Over. Devil! are they married? Willdo. Do a father's part, and say, Heaven give them joy !

Over. Confusion and ruin! speak, and speak Or thou art dead. [quickly,

Willdo. They are married.

Over. Thou hadst better

Have made a contract with the king of fiends,
Than these my brain turns!

Willdo. Why this rage to me?

Is not this your letter, sir, and these the words? Marry her to this gentleman.

Over. It cannot

Nor will I e'er believe it, 'sdeath! I will not;
That I, that, in all passages I touch'd
At worldly profit, have not 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.

Over. Village nurses

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

[Attempts to kill MARGARET.

Lov. [coming forward.] Hold, for your own sake!

Though charity to your daughter hath 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 are but a man,
And cannot so create your aims, but that
They may be cross'd.

Over. Lord! thus I spit at thee,

And at thy counsel; and again desire thee,

And as thou art a soldier, if thy valour

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.

L. All. Stay, sir,

Contest with one distracted!

Well. You'll grow like him,

Should you answer his vain challenge.

Over. Are you pale?

Borrow his help, though Hercules call it odds,

I'll stand against both as I am, hemm'd in thus.—
Since, like a Libyan lion in the toil,

My fury cannot reach the coward hunters,
And only spends itself, I'll quit the place:
Alone I can do nothing; but I have servants,
And friends to second me; and if I make not
This house a heap of ashes, (by my wrongs,
What I have spoke I will make good!) or leave
One throat uncut,-if it be possible,
Hell, add to my afflictions!

Mar. Is't not brave sport?

[Exit.

To purchase and grow rich; for I will be
Such a solicitor and steward for you,
As never worshipful had.

Well. I do believe thee;

But first discover the quaint means you used To raze out the conveyance ?

Mar. They are mysteries

Not to be spoke in public: certain minerals Incorporated in the ink and wax.—

Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me
With hopes and blows; and that was the induce-
ment

To this conundrum. If it please your worship
To call to memory, this mad beast once caused me
To urge you, or to drown or hang yourself;
I'll do the like to him, if you command me.

Well. You are a rascal! he that dares be false
To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true
To any other. Look not for reward

Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight
As I would do a basilisk's: thank my pity,

If thou keep thy ears; howe'er, I will take order
Your practice shall be silenced.

Greedy. I'll commit him,

If you will have me, sir.

Well. That were to little purpose;

His conscience be his prison. Not a word,
But instantly be gone.

Ord. Take this kick with you.

Amb. And this.

Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them?
No: I'll through the battalia, and that routed,
[Flourishing his sword sheathed.
I'll fall to execution.-Ha! I am 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 orphans' 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
Ingloriously, and yield? no; spite of Fate,
I will be forced to hell like to myself.
Though you were legions of accursed spirits,
Thus would I fly among you.

[Rushes forward, and flings himself on the ground.

Well. There's no help;

Disarm him first, then bind him.

Greedy. Take a mittimus,

And carry him to Bedlam.
Lov. How he foams!

Well. And bites the earth!

Willdo. Carry him to some dark room, There try what art can do for his recovery. Marg. O my dear father!

[They force OVERREACH off. All. You must be patient, mistress. Lov. Here is a precedent to teach wicked men, That when they leave religion, and turn atheists, Their own abilities leave them. Pray you take

comfort,

I will endeavour you shall be his guardians
In his distractions: and for your land, master
Wellborn,

Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire
Between you, and this, the undoubted heir

Of sir Giles Overreach for me, here's the anchor
That I must fix on.

All. What you shall determine, My lord, I will allow of.

Well. 'Tis the language

That I speak too; but there is something else
Beside the repossession of my land,

And payment of my debts, that I must practise.
I had a reputation, but 'twas lost

In my loose course; and until I redeem it
Some noble way, I am but half made up.
It is a time of action; if your lordship
Will please to confer a company upon me,
In your command, I doubt not, in my service
To my king, and country, but I shall do something
That may make me right again.

Lov. Your suit is granted,
And you loved for the motion.

Well. [coming forward.] Nothing wants then But your allowance-and in that our all Is comprehended; it being known, nor we, Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free, Without your manumission; which if you Grant willingly, as a fair favour due To the poet's, and our labours, (as you may,) For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play: We jointly shall profess your grace hath might To teach us action, and him how to write.

[Exeunt.

Mill. As I hope to see

A country knight's son and heir walk bare before you

When you are a countess, as you may be one When my master dies, or leaves trading; and I, continuing

Your principal woman, take the upper hand
Of a squire's wife, though a justice, as I must
By the place you give me; you look now as young
As when you were married.

L. Frug. I think I bear my years well.

Mill. Why should you talk of years? Time hath not plough'd

One furrow in your face: and were you not known The mother of my young ladies, you might pass For a virgin of fifteen.

Trade. Here's no gross flattery!

Will she swallow this?

Gold. You see she does, and glibly.

Mill. You never can be old; wear but a mask

the hole,

To live, in our house, in hell; since, his base usage
Consider'd, 'tis no better. My proud lady
Admits him to her table; marry, ever
Beneath the salt, and there he sits the subject
Of her contempt and scorn; and dinner ended,
His courteous nieces find employment for him
Fitting an under-prentice, or a footman,
And not an uncle.

Trade. I wonder, being a scholar

Well read, and travell'd, the world yielding means For men of such desert, he should endure it.

Gold. He does, with a strange patience; and to The servants, so familiar, nay humble!

[us,

As if she could renew her youth, in care,
Nay curiosity, to appear lovely,
Comes not behind her daughters.

Gold. Keeps the first place;

And though the church-book speak her fifty, they
That say she can write thirty, more offend her,
Than if they tax'd her honesty t'other day,
A tenant of hers, instructed in her humour,
But one she never saw, being brought before her,
For saying only, Good young mistress, help me
To the speech of your lady mother, so far pleased
That he got his lease renew'd for't.

Trade. How she bristles!

Prithee, observe her.

[her,

In your other parts. What a waist is here! 0

Venus !

Such a rare featured and proportion'd madam,
London could never boast of.

L. Frug. Where are my shoes?

Mill. Those that your ladyship gave order, Be made of the Spanish perfum'd skins? [should L. Frug. The same.

Mill. I sent the prison-bird this morning for But he neglects his duty. [them;

Anne. He is grown

Exceeding careless.

Mary. And begins to murmur

At our commands, and sometimes grumbles to us, He is, forsooth, our uncle!

L. Frug. He is your slave,

And as such use him.

Anne. Willingly; but he's grown
Rebellious, madam.

Gold. Nay, like hen, like chicken.
L. Frug. I'll humble him.

Enter LUKE, with shoes, garters, fans and roses.
Gold. Here he comes, sweating all over :
He shews like a walking frippery.

L. Frug. Very good, sir:

Were you drunk last night, that you could rise no

sooner,

With humble diligence, to do what my daughters And woman did command you?

Luke. Drunk, an't please you!

L. Frug. Drunk, I said, sirrah! dar'st thou, in a look,

Repine or grumble? Thou unthankful wretch,
Did our charity redeem thee out of prison,
(Thy patrimony spent,) ragged, and lousy,
When the sheriff's basket, and his broken meat,
Were your festival exceedings! and is this
So soon forgotten?

Luke. I confess I am,
Your creature, madam.

Enter HOLDFAST, and Porters with Baskets, &c.

L. Frug. What have you brought there?
Hold. The cream o' the market;
Provision enough to serve a garrison.
I weep to think on't: when my master got
His wealth, his family fed on roots and livers,
And necks of beef on Sundays.——

But now I fear it will be spent in poultry;
Butcher's-meat will not go down.

L. Frug. Why, you rascal, is it

At your expense? what cooks have you provided? Hold. The best of the city: they've wrought

at my lord mayor's.

SCENE II. The Street before FRUGAL'S House.
Enter Sir MAURICE LACY and Page.

Sir Maur. You were with Plenty?
Page. Yes, sir.

Sir Maur. And what answer
Return'd the clown?

Page. Clown, sir! he is transform'd,
And grown a gallant of the last edition;
More rich than gaudy in his habit; yet
The freedom and the bluntness of his language
Continues with him. When I told him that
You gave him caution, as he loved the peace
And safety of his life, he should forbear
To pass the merchant's threshold, until you,
Of his two daughters, had made choice of her
Whom you design'd to honour as your wife,
He smiled in scorn.

Sir Maur. In scorn!

Page. His words confirm'd it;

They were few, but to this purpose: Tell your

master,

Though his lordship in reversion were now his,
It cannot awe me. I was born a freeman,
And will not yield, in the way of affection,
Precedence to him: I will visit them,
Though he sate porter to deny me entrance:
When I meet him next, I'll say more to his face.
Deliver thou this: then gave me a piece,

To help my memory, and so we parted.
Sir Maur. Where got he this spirit?
Page. At the academy of valour,
Newly erected for the institution

Of elder brothers; where they are taught the ways,
Though they refuse to seal for a duellist,

How to decline a challenge. He himself
Can best resolve you.

Enter PLENTY and three Servants.

Sir Maur. You, sir!

Plenty. What with me, sir?

How big you look! I will not loose a hat
To a hair's breadth: move your beaver, I'll move

mine;

Or if you desire to prove your sword, mine hangs As near my right hand, and will as soon out;

though I keep not

A fencer to breathe me. Walk into Moorfields

I dare look on your Toledo. Do not shew

A foolish valour in the streets, to make

Work for shopkeepers and their clubs, 'tis scurvy, And the women will laugh at us.

Sir Maur. You presume

On the protection of your hinds.
Plenty. I scorn it :

Though I keep men, I fight not with their fingers,
Nor make it my religion to follow

The gallant's fashion, to have my family
Consisting in a footman and a page,

And those two sometimes hungry. I can feed these,
And clothe them too, my gay sir.

Sir Maur. What a fine man Hath your tailor made you!

Plenty. 'Tis quite contrary,

I have made my tailor, for my clothes are paid for

As soon as put on; a sin your man of title

Is seldom guilty of; but Heaven forgive it!

I have other faults, too, very incident
To a plain gentleman: I eat my venison