Scene II A Prison Cell
Enter Sir Charles Mountford, with irons, his feet bare, his garments all ragged and torn.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Of all on the earth’s face most miserable,
Breathe in this hellish dungeon thy laments,
Thus like a slave ragged, like a felon gyved.
What hurls thee headlong to this base estate?
O unkind uncle! O my friends ingrate!
Unthankful kinsmen! Mountford’s all too base,
To let thy name be fettered in disgrace!
A thousand deaths here in this grave 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 their covetous thoughts; need make their graves!
Usurers they live, and may they die like slaves!
Enter Keeper.
Keeper.
Knight, be of comfort, for I bring thee freedom
From all thy troubles.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Then I am doomed to die;
Death is the end of all calamity.
Keeper.
Live: your appeal is stayed; the execution
Of all your debts discharged; your creditors
Even to the utmost penny satisfied.
In sign whereof, your shackles I knock off;
You are not left so much indebted to us
As for your fees; all is discharged, all paid.
Go freely to your house, or where you please;
After long miseries, embrace your ease.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Thou grumblest out the sweetest music to me
That ever organ played. Is this a dream?
Or do my waking senses apprehend
The pleasing taste 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 breathed
Against such faithful kinsmen: they are all
Composed of pity and compassion,
Of melting charity, and of moving ruth.
That which I spake before was in my rage;
They are my friends, the mirrors of this age,
Bounteous and free. The noble Mountford’s race,
Ne’er bred a covetous thought, or humour base.
Enter Susan.
Susan.
I can no longer stay from visiting
My woful brother: while I could, I kept
My hapless tidings from his hopeful ear.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Sister, how much am I indebted to thee,
And to thy travel!
Susan.
What, at liberty?
Sir Charles Mountford.
Thou seest I am, thanks to thy industry:
Oh! unto which of all my courteous friends
Am I thus bound? My uncle Mountford, he
Even of an infant loved me: was it he?
So did my cousin Tidy; was it he?
So Master Roder, Master Sandy too:
Which of all these did this high kindness do?
Susan.
Charles, can you mock me in your poverty,
Knowing your friends deride your misery?
Now, I protest I stand so much amazed
To see your bonds free, and your irons knocked off,
That I am rapt into a maze of wonder:
The rather for I know not by what means
This happiness hath chanced.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Why, by my uncle,
My cousins, and my friends: who else, I pray,
Would take upon them all my debts to pay?
Susan.
O brother, they are men all of flint,
Pictures of marble, and as void of pity
As chased bears. I begged, I sued, I kneeled,
Laid open all your griefs and miseries,
Which they derided; more than that, denied us
A part in their alliance; but, in pride,
Said that our kindred with our plenty died.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Drudges too much—what did they? oh, known evil!
Rich fly the poor, as good men shun the devil.
Whence should my freedom come? of whom alive,
Saving of those, have I deserved so well?
Guess, sister, call to mind, remember33 me:
These I have raised; they follow the world’s guise;
Whom rich in honour, they in woe despise.
Susan.
My wits have lost themselves, let’s ask the keeper.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Gaoler!
Keeper.
At hand, sir.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Of courtesy resolve me one demand.
What was he took the burthen of my debts
From off my back, stayed my appeal to death,
Discharged my fees, and brought me liberty?
Keeper.
A courteous knight, one called Sir Francis Acton.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Ha! Acton! O me, more distressed in this
Than all my troubles! hale 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 Acton freed! not all thy manacles
Could fetter so my heels as this one word
Hath thralled my heart; and it must now lie bound
In more strict prison than thy stony gaol.
I am not free; I go but under bail.
Keeper.
My charge is done, sir, now I have my fees;
As we get little, we will nothing leese.34 [Exit.
Sir Charles Mountford.
By Acton freed, my dangerous opposite!
Why, to what end? on what occasion? ha!
Let me forget the name of enemy,
And with indifference balance this high favour:
Ha!
Susan.
[Aside.] His love to me? upon my soul ’tis so:
That is the root from whence these strange things grow.
Sir Charles Mountford.
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 action had deserved my life:
And from a stranger more; because from such
There is less expectation35 of good deeds.
But he, nor father, nor ally, nor friend,
More than a stranger, both remote in blood
And in his heart opposed my enemy,—
That this high bounty should proceed from him,—
Oh, there I lose myself! What should I say,
What think, what do, his bounty to repay?
Susan.
You, wonder, I am sure, whence this strange kindness
Proceeds in Acton. I will tell you, brother:
He dotes on me, and oft hath sent me gifts,
Letters and tokens: I refused them all.
Sir Charles Mountford.
I have enough, though poor; my heart is set,
In one rich gift to pay back all my debt.
[Exeunt.