Act the Fifth
Scene I The Entrance to Sir Francis Acton’s House
Enter Sir Charles Mountford, and Susan, both well dressed.
Susan.
Brother, why have you tricked me like a bride,
Bought me this gay attire, these ornaments?
Forget you our estate, our poverty?
Sir Charles Mountford.
Call me not brother, but imagine me
Some barbarous outlaw, or uncivil kern;41
For if thou shutt’st thy eye, and only hearest
The words that I shall utter, thou shalt judge me
Some staring ruffian, not thy brother Charles.
O sister!——
Susan.
O brother, what doth this strange language mean?
Sir Charles Mountford.
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 bye-word and a scorn?
It lies in thee of these to acquit me free,
And all my debt I may out-strip by thee.
Susan.
By me! why, I have nothing, nothing left;
I owe even for the clothes upon my back;
I am not worth——
Sir Charles Mountford.
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,
Acton’s five hundred pound back to repay.
Susan.
Till now I had thought you had loved me. By my honour
(Which I have kept as spotless as the moon),
I ne’er was mistress of that single doit
Which I reserved not to supply your wants;
And do you think that I would hoard from you?
Now, by my hopes in Heaven, knew I the means
To buy you from the slavery of your debts
(Especially from Acton, whom I hate),
I would redeem it with my life or blood.
Sir Charles Mountford.
I challenge it; and, kindred set apart,
Thus, ruffian-like, I lay siege to your heart.
What do I owe to Acton?
Susan.
Why some five hundred pounds; towards which, I swear,
In all the world I have not one denier.42
Sir Charles Mountford.
It will not prove so. Sister, now resolve43 me:
What do you think (and speak your conscience)
Would Acton give, might he enjoy your bed?
Susan.
He would not shrink to spend a thousand pound,
To give the Mountfords’ name so deep a wound.
Sir Charles Mountford.
A thousand pound! I but five hundred owe;
Grant him your bed, he’s paid with interest so.
Susan.
O brother!
Sir Charles Mountford.
O 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 stranger’s. Shall I die in debt
To Acton, my grand foe, and you still wear
The precious jewel that he holds so dear?
Susan.
My honour I esteem as dear and precious
As my redemption.
Sir Charles Mountford.
I esteem you, sister,
As dear, for so dear prizing it.
Susan.
Will Charles
Have me cut off my hands, and send them Acton?
Rip up my breast, and with my bleeding heart
Present him as a token?
Sir Charles Mountford.
Neither, sister:
But hear me in my strange assertion.
Thy honour and my soul are equal in my regard;
Nor will thy brother Charles survive thy shame.
His kindness, like a burthen hath surcharged me,
And under his good deeds I stooping go,
Not with an upright soul. Had I remained
In prison still, there doubtless I had died:
Then, unto him that freed me from that prison,
Still do I owe this life. What moved my foe
To enfranchise me? ’Twas, 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 burthen lean on me,
And will not you bear part? You did partake
The joy of my release; will you not stand
In joint-bond bound to satisfy the debt?
Shall I be only charged?
Susan.
But that I know
These arguments come from an honoured mind,
As in your most extremity of need
Scorning to stand in debt to one you hate,—
Nay, rather would engage your unstained honour
Than to be held ingrate,—I should condemn you.
I see your resolution, and assent;
So Charles will have me, and I am content.
Sir Charles Mountford.
For this I tricked you up.
Susan.
But here’s a knife,
To save mine honour, shall slice out my life.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Ay! know thou pleasest me a thousand times
More in that resolution than thy grant.—
Observe her love; to soothe it to 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 choose,
Rather than stain her blood, her life to lose.—
Come, you sad sister to a woful brother,
This is the gate: I’ll bear him such a present,
Such an acquittance for the knight to seal,
As will amaze his senses, and surprise
With admiration all his fantasies.
Susan.
Before his unchaste thoughts shall seize on me,
’Tis here shall my imprisoned soul set free.
Enter Sir Francis Acton and Malby.
Sir Francis Acton.
How! Mountford with his sister, hand in hand!
What miracle’s afoot?
Malby.
It is a sight
Begets in me much admiration.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Stand not amazed to see me thus attended:
Acton, I owe thee money, and being unable
To bring thee the full sum in ready coin,
Lo! for thy more assurance, here’s a pawn,—
My sister, my dear sister, whose chaste honour
I prize above a million: here, nay, take her;
She’s worth your money, man; do not forsake her.
Sir Francis Acton.
I would he were in earnest!
Susan.
Impute it not to my immodesty:
My brother being rich in nothing else
But in his interest that he hath in me,
According to his poverty hath brought you
Me, all his store; whom howsoe’er you prize
As forfeit to your hand, he values highly,
And would not sell, but to acquit your debt,
For any emperor’s ransom.
Sir Francis Acton.
Stern heart, relent;
Thy former cruelty at length repent.
Was ever known, in any former age,
Such honourable wrested courtesy?
Lands, honours, life, and all the world forego,
Rather than stand engaged to such a foe. [Aside.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Acton, she is too poor to be thy bride,
And I too much opposed to be thy brother.
There, take her to thee: if thou hast the heart
To seize 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 rely,
And perish with her spotted chastity.
Sir Francis Acton.
You overcome me in your love, Sir Charles;
I cannot be so cruel to a lady
I love so dearly. Since you have not spared
To engage your reputation to the world,
Your sister’s honour, which you prize so dear,
Nay, all the comforts which you hold on earth,
To grow out of my debt, being your foe,
Your honoured thoughts, lo! thus I recompense:
Your metamorphosed foe receives your gift
In satisfaction of all former wrongs.
This jewel I will wear here in my heart;
And, where before I thought her for her wants
Too base to be my bride, to end all strife,
I seal you my dear brother, her my wife.
Susan.
You still exceed us: I will yield to fate,
And learn to love, where I till now did hate.
Sir Charles Mountford.
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.
Sir Francis Acton.
All’s mine is yours; we are alike in state,
Let’s knit in love what was opposed in hate.
Come! for our nuptials we will straight provide,
Blest only in our brother and fair bride.
[Exeunt.