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[ Enter L ORD] L OVELL, A LLWORTH, and Servants 1
LOV. Walk the horses down the hill: something in private | |
| I must impart to Allworth. Exeunt Servants. | |
| ALL. O, my lord, | |
| What a sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching, | 4 |
| Although I could put off the use of sleep, | |
| And ever wait on your commands to serve them; | |
| What dangers, though in ne’er so horrid shapes, | |
| Nay death itself, though I should run to meet it, | 8 |
| Can I, and with a thankful willingness suffer! | |
| But still the retribution will fall short | |
| Of your bounties shower’d upon me. | |
| LOV. Loving youth, | 12 |
| Till what I purpose be put into act, | |
| Do not o’erprize it; since you have trusted me | |
| With your soul’s nearest, nay, her dearest secret, | |
| Rest confident ’tis in a cabinet lock’d | 16 |
| Treachery shall never open. I have found you | |
| (For so much to your face I must profess, | |
| Howe’er you guard your modesty with a blush for’t) | |
| More zealous in your love and service to me | 20 |
| Than I have been in my rewards. | |
| ALL. Still great ones, | |
| Above my merit. | |
| LOV. Such your gratitude calls ’em; | 24 |
| Nor am I of that harsh and rugged temper | |
| As some great men are tax’d with, who imagine | |
| They part from the respect due to their honours | |
| If they use not all such as follow ’em, | 28 |
| Without distinction of their births, like slaves. | |
| I am not so condition’d; I can make | |
| A fitting difference between my footboy | |
| And a gentleman by want compell’d to serve me. | 32 |
| ALL. ’Tis thankfully acknowledg’d; you have been | |
| More like a father to me than a master. | |
| Pray you, pardon the comparison. | |
| LOV. I allow it: | 36 |
| And, to give you assurance I am pleas’d in’t, | |
| My carriage and demeanour to your mistress, | |
| Fair Margaret, shall truly witness for me | |
| I can command my passions. | 40 |
| ALL. ’Tis a conquest | |
| Few lords can boast of when they are tempted—Oh! | |
| LOV. Why do you sigh? Can you be doubtful of me? | |
| By that fair name I in the wars have purchas’d, | 44 |
| And all my actions, hitherto untainted, | |
| I will not be more true to mine own honour | |
| Than to my Allworth! | |
| ALL. As you are the brave Lord Lovell, | 48 |
| Your bare word only given is an assurance | |
| Of more validity and weight to me | |
| Than all the oaths, bound up with imprecations, | |
| Which, when they would deceive, most courtiers practise; | 52 |
| Yet being a man, (for, sure, to style you more | |
| Would relish of gross flattery,) I am forc’d, | |
| Against my confidence of your worth and virtues, | |
| To doubt, nay, more, to fear. | 56 |
| LOV. So young, and jealous! | |
| ALL. Were you to encounter with a single foe, | |
| The victory were certain; but to stand | |
| The charge of two such potent enemies, | 60 |
| At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty, | |
| And those too seconded with power, is odds | |
| Too great for Hercules. | |
| LOV. Speak your doubts and fears, | 64 |
| Since you will nourish them, in plainer language, | |
| That I may understand them. | |
| ALL. What’s your will, | |
| Though I lend arms against myself, (provided | 68 |
| They may advantage you,) must be obeyed. | |
| My much-lov’d lord, were Margaret only fair, | |
| The cannon of her more than earthly form, | |
| Though mounted high, commanding all beneath it, | 72 |
| And ramm’d with bullets of her sparkling eyes, | |
| Of all the bulwarks that defend your senses | |
| Could batter none, but that which guards your sight. | |
| But when the well-tun’d accents of her tongue | 76 |
| Make music to you, and with numerous 2 sounds | |
| Assault your hearing, (such as if Ulysses, | |
| Now liv’d again, howe’er he stood the Syrens, | |
| Could not resist,) the combat must grow doubtful | 80 |
| Between your reason and rebellious passions. | |
| Add this too; when you feel her touch, and breath | |
| Like a soft western wind when it glides o’er | |
| Arabia, creating gums and spices; | 84 |
| And, in the van, the nectar of her lips, | |
| Which you must taste, bring the battalia on, | |
| Well arm’d, and strongly lin’d 3 with her discourse, | |
| And knowing manners, to give entertainment;— | 88 |
| Hippolytus himself would leave Diana, | |
| To follow such a Venus. | |
| LOV. Love hath made you | |
| Poetical, Allworth. | 92 |
| ALL. Grant all these beat off, | |
| Which if it be in man to do, you’ll do it, | |
| Mammon, in Sir Giles Overreach, steps in | |
| With heaps of ill-got-gold, and so much land, | 96 |
| To make her more remarkable, as would tire | |
| A falcon’s wings in one day to fly over. | |
| O my good lord! these powerful aids, which would | |
| Make a mis-shapen negro beautiful, | 100 |
| (Yet are but ornaments to give her lustre, | |
| That in herself is all perfection,) must | |
| Prevail for her. I here release your trust; | |
| ’Tis happiness enough for me to serve you | 104 |
| And sometimes, with chaste eyes, to look upon her. | |
| LOV. Why, shall I swear? | |
| ALL. O, by no means, my lord; | |
| And wrong not so your judgment to the world | 108 |
| As from your fond indulgence to a boy, | |
| Your page, your servant, to refuse a blessing | |
| Divers great men are rivals for. | |
| LOV. Suspend | 112 |
| Your judgment till the trial. How far is it | |
| To Overreach’s house? | |
| ALL. At the most, some half hour’s riding; | |
| You’ll soon be there. | 116 |
| LOV. And you the sooner freed | |
| From your jealous fears. | |
| ALL. O that I durst but hope it! Exeunt. | |
