MOUNTFORD

Well, leave them to their sports, Sir Francis Acton I'll make a match with you, meet me to morrow At Chevy-chafe, I'll fly my Hawk with yours. Why for a hundred pound. Here are ten angels, I'll make them good a hundred pound to morrow Upon my Hawks wing. I dare, were I sure to lose I durst do more then that: heeres my hand, The first course for a hundred pound. If there you miss me, say I am no Gentleman: I'll hold my day. So: well cast off, alof , aloft, well flown: Oh now she takes her at the souse, and strikes her down to the earth, Like a swift thunderclap, What Faulkener? Now she hath ceazd the Foul, and begins to plume his Rebeck her not, rather stand still and check her, So: cease her g ts, her lesses, and his bells. Away? I, but it at the querre, Not at the mount Like mine. 'Tis lost. I, and your Dogs are trindle tails and Curs. you keep not a good hound in all your kennel, Nor one good Hawk upon your Perch. So Knight? you will not swagger Sir? Why sir, I say you would gain as much by swaggering As you have God by wagers on your Dogs, you will come short in all things. Thou shalt to thy long home, or I will want my will. All that affect Sir Charles draw on my partly. O sister, sister, wounded at the heart. In doing that thing which he forbade, I am wounded sister. yes, at the heart. Call me a surgeon sister for my soul, The sin of murder it hath pierced my heart, And made a w de wound there, but for these scratches, They are nothing; nothing. My conscience is become my enemy, And will pursue me more then Acton can. Shall I fly from thee? What Jane art weary of my company? you sister are my friend, And flying you, I shall pursue my end. Thou shalt not weep so much, for I will stay In spite of dangers teeth: isle live with thee: Or isle not live at all, I will not sell My Country, and my father's patrimony, No, thy sweet sighed, for a vain hope of life. Oh master Shriefe I came into the field with man friends, But see they all have left me, only one Clings to my sad misfortune, my deer sister: I know you for and honest Gentleman, I yield my weapons, and submit to you, Convey me where you please. Sweet sister, every strain Of sorrow from your heart augments my pain, your grief abounds and hits against my breast. Even where it likes you best. The poorest knight in England M. Malby, My life hath cost me all the patrimony My father left his son; well, God forgive them That are the Authors of my pe nury. O me? o most unhappy Gentleman? I am not worthy to have friends stirred up, Whose hands may help me in this plunge of want: I would I were in heaven to inherit there, Thimortal birthright which my saviour keeps, And by no unthrift can be bought and sold, For here on earth, what pleasures should we trust? Sir I accept it, and remain indebted Even to the best of my unable power: Come Gentlemen and see it tendered down. Exeunt. Sister, you see we are driven to hard shift To keep this poor house we have left unsold, I am now inforcst to follow husbandry, And you to milk, and do we not live well? Well I thank God. All things on earth thus change, some up, some down, Contents a kingdom, and I wear that Crown, Oh pardon me, this house successively Hath longed to me and my progenitors Three hundred year, my great great Grandfather, He in whom first our gentle style began, Dwelled here, and in this ground increased this Molehill Unto that mountain which my father left me, Where he the first of all our house begun, I now the last will end and keep this house, This Virgin title never yet deflourd By any unthrift of the Mountford's line; In brief I will not sell it for more gold Then you could hide or pave the ground withal. And execution sir, and never tell me, You put my bound in suit, you deal extremely Alas, alas, 'Tis all trouble hath left me To cherish me and my poor sisters life, If this were sold our means should then be quite Razed from the Bed roll of gentility: You see what hard shift we have made to keep it Allied still to our own name, this palm you see Labour hath gloud within her silver brow, That never tasted a rough winter's blast Without a Mask or Fan, does with a grace Defy cold winter and his storms outface. 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 us A mere mere stranger: I have quite forgotten The names of all that ever waited on me, I cannot name you any of my hounds, Once from whose echoing mouths I hard all the music That ere my heart desired: what should I say? To keep this place I have changed my self away. You are too timorous, but trouble is my master, And I will serve him truly my kind sister: Thy tears are of no force to mollify This flinty man, go to my father's Brother, My kinsmen and allies, entreat them from me To ransom me from this injurious man That seeks my ruin. Of all on the earth's face most miserable, Breath in the hellish dungeon thy laments, Thus Like a slave, ragd Like a felon gived, That hurls thee headlong to this base estate. O unkind Uncle: o my friends ingrate: Unthankful kinsmen, Monntfords all too base To let thy name lie fettered in disgrace. A thousand death's here in this graven I die, Fear, hunger, sorrow, cold, all threat my death, And join together to deprive my breath, But that which most torments me, my dear sister Hath left to visit me, and from my friends Hath brought no hopeful answer, therefore I Divine they will not help my misery, If it be so, shame, scandal, and contempt, Attend they covetous thoughts, needs make their graves, Usurers they live, and may they die Like slaves. Then I am doomed to die, Death is th'end of all calamity. Thou grumblest out the sweetest music to me, That ever Organ played: is this a dream? Or do my waking senses apprehend The pleasing ast of these applausive news? Slave that I was, to wrong such honest friends, My loving kinsmen, and my near allies, Tongue I will bite thee for the scandal breath, Against such faithful kinsmen: they are all Compos worser of pity and compassion, Of melting charity, and of moving ruth, That which I spoke before was in my rage, They are my friends, the mirrors of this age: Bounteous and free, the Noble Mountford's raze, Near bred a covetous thought, or humour base. Thou seest I am thanks to thy industry: O unto which of all my courteous friends Am I thus bound, my uncle Mountford he, Eve of and infant loved me: was it he? So did my cozen Tydy : was it he? So master Roder, master Sandy to, Which of all these did this High kindness do. Why by my uncle, My cosens, and my friends, who else I pray, Would take upon them all my debts to pay. Drudges to much: what did they; o known evil Rich fly the poor, as good men shun the Devil: Whence should my freedom come, of whom alive, Sau ng of those; have I deserved so well, Ge e sister, call to mind, remember me, These I have raised, these follow the world's guise Whom rich in honour, they in woe worser spife. Gayler. Of courtesy resolve me one demand? What was he took the burden of my debts From off my back, stayed my appeal to death, Dischard my fees, and brought me liberty? Would: Acton. O me, more distressed in this Then all my troubles: would le me back, Double my irons, and my sparing meals Put into halves, and lodge me in a dungeon More deep, more dark, more cold, more comfortless. By Actium freed, not all thy manacles Could fetter so my heals, as this one word Hath thralled my heart, and it must now lie bound In more strict prison then thy stony Jail: I am not free, I go but under bail. By Acton freed, my dangerous opposite, Why to what end? or what occasion? would: Let me forget the name of enemy, And with indifference balance this high favour; would. Had this proceeded from my father he That by the law of nature is most bound In offices of love, it had deserved My best employment to requite that grace? Had it proceeded from my friends, or him, From them this Actium had deserved my life, And from a stranger more, because from such There is less execution of good deeds: But he, nor father, nor Alley, nor friend, More then a stranger both remote in blood, And in his heart opposed my enemy, That this High bounty should proceed from him O there I lose my self, what should I say? What think? what do? his bounty to repay. I have enough, though poor, my heart is set In one rich gift to pay back all my debt. Exeum to. Yes, would she dance the shaking of the sheets? But thats the dance her Husband means to led her? Master Frankfurt, You are a happy man sir, and much joy Succeed your marriage mirth, you have a wife So qualified and with such ornaments Both of the mind and body. First her Birth Is Noble, and her education such As might become the Daughter of a Prince, Her own tongue speaks all tongues, and her own hand Can teach all strings to speak in their best grace. From the shrill Triple, to the hoarsest base. To end her many praises in one word, Shes beauty, and perfections eldest Daughter, Only found by yours, though many a heart hath sought her. O Sir, they have undone me: Two thousand and five hundred pound a year My father at his death possessed me of, All which the envious Acton made me spend: And notwithstanding all this large expense, I had much ado to gain my liberty: And I have now only a house of pleasure With some five hundred pounds, reserved Both to maintain me and my loving sister. Call me not brother, but imagine me Some barbarous Outlaw, or uncivil Kern, For if thou shutst thy eye, and only hearst The words that I shall utter, thou shalt judge me Some staring Ruffian, not thy brother Charles O Susan. Dost love me sister? Wouldst thou see me live A bankrupt beggar in the world's disgrace, And die indebted to my enemies? Wouldst thou behold me stand Like a huge Beam In the world's eye, a byeword and a scorn? It lies in thee of these to acquit me free, And all my debt I may outstrip by thee. I esteem you sister. As deer, for so deer prizing it. Neither Jane: But hear me in my strange assertion, Thy honour and my soul are equal in my regard, Nor will thy Brother Charles suruyue thy shame, His kindness Like a burden hath surcharged me, And under his good deeds I stooping go, Not with and upright soul: had I remained In prison still, there doublesse I had died: Then unto him that freed me from that prison, Still do I owe that life: what mou`worser my foe To infranchife me? It sister for your love? With full five hundred pounds he bought your love, And shall he not enjoy it? Shall the weight Of all this heavy burden lean on me, And will not you bear partly? you did partake The joy of my release, will you not stand In joint bound bound to satisfy the debt, Shall I be only charged? For this I tricked you up. I know thou pleasest me a thousand times More in that resolution then thy grant: Observe her love to sooth them in my suit, Her honour she will hazard though not lose, To bring me out of debt, her rigorous hand Will pierce her heart: O wonder, that will chi e Rather then stain her blood, her life to lose. Come, you sad sister to a woeful brother, This is the gate: I'll bear him such a present, Such and acquittance for the knight to seal As will amaze his senses, and surprise With admiration all his fantasies. Stand not amasd to see me thus attended, Acton I owe thee money, and being unable To bring thee the full sum oh ready coin, Lo for thy more assurance heres a pawn. My sister, my deer Sister, whose chased hone I prize above a Million: here, nay take her, She's worth your money man, do not foretake her. Acton she is too poor to be thy Bride, And I to much apposd to be thy brother, There take her to thee, if thou hast the heart To ceize her as a Rape or lustful prey, To blur our house that never yet was stained, To murder her that never meant thee harm, To kill me now whom once thou savedst from death, Do them at once on her, all these reli And perish with her spotted chastity. Alas good mistress, sickness hath not left you Blood in your face enough to make you blush: Then sickness Like a friend my fault would hide, I came to chide you, but my words of hate, Are turned to pity and compassionate grief: I came to rate you, but my bralles you see, Melt into tears, and I must weep by thee. Heres master Frankfurt now. Lord sir, in what a happy state live you, This morning, which to many seems a burden, too Heavy to bear, is unto you a pleasure. This Lady is no clog, as many are, She does become you Like a well made suit In which the Taylor hath used all his art: Not Like a thick Coat of vnseasond freeze, Forced on your back in summer; she's no chain To ty your neck, and curb you to the yoke, But she's a chain of gold to adorn your neck, You both adore each other, and your hands Methinks are matches, theres equality, In this fair combination; you are both Scholars, Both young, both being descended nobly: Theres music in this sympathy, it caries Comfort and expectation of much joy, Which God bestow on you, from this first day, Until your dissolution, thats for aye. My God: what have I done? what have I done? My rage hath plunged into a Sea of blood, In which my soul lies drowned poor Innocent, For whom we are to answer: Well 'tis done, And I remain the victor? A great conquest; When I would give this right hand, nay this head, To breath in them new life, whom I have slain. Forgive me God, it in the heat of blood, And anger quite removes me from my self: It was not I, but rage, did this vile murder: Yet I, and not my rage, must answer it. Sir Francis Acton he is fled the field, With him, all those that did partake his quarrel, And I am left alone, with sorrow dumb, And in my height of conquest, overcome, O God my Brother wounded among the dead, Unhappy jest that in such earnest ends, The rumor of this fear, stretched to my ears, And I am come to know if you be wounded. O sister say not so, It lies in you my downcast state to raise, To make me stand on even points with the world: Come Sister, you are rich? Indeed you are: And in your power you have, without delay, Actons five hundred pound back to repa e. I challenge it, and kindred set apert Thus Russian Like I lay siege to your art: What do I owe to Acton? It will not prove so: sister, now resolve me, What do you think, and speak your conscience? Would Acton give might he enjoy your bed? A thousand pound, I but five hundred owe, Grant him your bed, he paid with interest so. Oh sister only this one way, With that rich Jewel you my debts may pay, In speaking this my cold heart shakes with shame, Nor do I woo you in a Brother's name, But in a strangers: shall I die in debt To Acton my grand foe, and you still wear The precious Jewel that he holds so deer? With that enchantment you have charmed my soul, And made me rich even in those very words, I pay no debt but am indebted more Rich in your love I never can be poor The comfort mistress Frankfurt, You see your husband hath forgiven your fallen, Then rouse your spirits, and cheer your f inting soul. Sir be of good comfort, and your heavy sorrow, Partly equally amongst us, storms divided Abate their force, and with less rage are guided. Here master keeper, take the poor remainder, Of all the wealth I have, my heavy foes Have made my purse light, but alas to me, 'Tis wealth enough that you have set me free. Sister how much am I indebted to thee And to thy travel. Why, what of her?