Act 5 — [Scene I.][2858]

Sir C. Sister, you see we are driven to hard shift, To keep this poor house we have left unsold. I ’m now enforc’d to follow husbandry, And you to milk; and do we not live well? Well, I thank God. Susan. Oh, brother! here’s a change,5 Since old Sir Charles died in our father’s house. Sir C. All things on earth thus change, some up, some down; Content ’s a kingdom, and I wear that crown.

Shaft. Good morrow, morrow, Sir Charles! What! With your sister,9 Plying your husbandry?—Sergeant, stand off!— You have a pretty house here, and a garden, And goodly ground about it. Since it lies So near a lordship that I lately bought, I would fain buy it of you. I will give you—— Sir C. Oh, pardon me; this house successively15 Hath long’d to me and my progenitors Three hundred years. My great-great-grandfather, He in whom first our gentle style began, Dwelt here, and in this ground increast this mole-hill Unto that mountain which my father left me. Where he the first of all our house began,21 I now the last will end, and keep this house,— This virgin title, never yet deflower’d By any unthrift of the Mountfords’ line. In brief, I will not sell it for more gold25 Than you could hide or pave the ground withal. Shaft. Ha, ha! a proud mind and a beggar’s purse! Where ’s my three hundred pounds, besides the use?[2859] I have brought it to an execution29 By course of law. What! Is my money ready? Sir C. An execution, sir, and never tell me You put my bond in suit? You deal extremely.[2860] Shaft. Sell me the land, and I ’ll acquit you straight. Sir C. Alas, alas! ’T is all trouble hath left me To cherish me and my poor sister’s life,35 If this were sold, our names should then be quite Raz’d from the bead-roll[2861] of gentility. You see what hard shift we have made to keep it Allied still to our name. This palm you see, Labour hath glow’d within; her silver brow,40 That never tasted a rough winter’s blast Without a mask or fan, doth with a grace Defy cold winter, and his storms outface. Susan. Sir, we feed sparing, and we labour hard, We lie uneasy, to reserve to us45 And our succession this small spot of ground. Sir C. I have so bent my thoughts to husbandry, That I protest I scarcely can remember What a new fashion is; how silk or satin Feels in my hand. Why, pride is grown to us50 A mere, mere stranger. I have quite forgot The names of all that ever waited on me. I cannot name ye any of my hounds, Once from whose echoing mouths I heard all music That e’er my heart desir’d. What should I say?55 To keep this place, I have chang’d myself away. Shaft. Arrest him at my suit!—Actions and actions Shall keep thee in perpetual bondage fast; Nay, more. I ’ll sue thee by a late appeal, And call thy former life in question.60 The keeper is my friend; thou shalt have irons, And usage such as I ’ll deny to dogs.— Away with him! Sir C. You are too timorous.[2862] But trouble is my master, And I will serve him truly.—My kind sister, Thy tears are of no use to mollify66 The flinty man. Go to my father’s brother, My kinsmen, and allies; entreat them for me, To ransom me from this injurious man That seeks my ruin. Shaft. Come, irons! Come away;70 I ’ll see thee lodg’d far from the sight of day. Exeunt [except Susan]. Susan. My heart’s so hard’ned with the frost of grief, Death cannot pierce it through.—Tyrant too fell! So lead the fiends condemned souls to hell.

Sir F. Again to prison! Malby, hast thou seen75 A poor slave better tortur’d? Shall we hear The music of his voice cry from the grate,[2863] Meat, for the Lord’s sake? No, no; yet I am not Throughly reveng’d. They say, he hath a pretty wench Unto his sister; shall I, in mercy-sake80 To him and to his kindred, bribe the fool To shame herself by lewd, dishonest lust? I ’ll proffer largely; but, the deed being done, I ’ll smile to see her base confusion. Mal. Methinks, Sir Francis, you are full reveng’d85 For greater wrongs than he can proffer you. See where the poor sad gentlewoman stands! Sir F. Ha, ha! Now will I flout her poverty, Deride her fortunes, scoff her base estate; My very soul the name of Mountford hates.90 But stay, my heart! Oh, what a look did fly To strike my soul through with thy piercing eye! I am enchanted; all my spirits are fled. And with one glance my envious spleen struck dead. Susan. Acton! That seeks our blood! Runs away. Sir F. O chaste and fair!95 Mal. Sir Francis! Why, Sir Francis! Zounds, in a trance? Sir Francis! What cheer, man? Come, come, how is ’t? Sir F. Was she not fair? Or else this judging eye Cannot distinguish beauty. Mal. She was fair.99 Sir F. She was an angel in a mortal’s shape, And ne’er descended from old Mountford’s line. But soft, soft, let me call my wits together! A poor, poor wench, to my great adversary Sister, whose very souls denounce stern war One against other! How now, Frank, turn’d fool105 Or madman, whether? But no! Master of My perfect senses and directest wits. Then why should I be in this violent humour Of passion and of love? And with a person So different every way, and so oppos’d110 In all contractions[2864] and still-warring actions? Fie, fie! How I dispute against my soul! Come, come; I’ll gain her, or in her fair quest Purchase my soul free and immortal rest. [Exeunt.]