Ord. Sir, 'tis her will!

Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve,
And not dispute: howe'er, you're nobly welcome;
And, if you please to stay, that you may think so,
There came, not six days since, from Hull, a
pipe

Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself
For my lady's honour.

Gree. Is it of the right race?

(Sir G. and Mar. converse apart.)
Ord. Yes, master Greedy.
Amb. How his mouth runs o'er!
Fur. I'll make it run and run.

Save your good worship.

Gree. Honest master Cook, thy hand; again, how
I love thee!

Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.
Fur. If you've a mind to feed, there is a chine

Of beef well season'd.

Gree. Good.

Fur. A pheasant larded.

Gree. That I might now give thanks for't!

Fur. Will you know your way, sir?
Amb. Or shall we teach it you,

By the head and shoulders?

Well. No; I will not stir;

[the wretch

Do you mark? I will not. (Starts up.) Let me see
That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,
Created only to make legs, and cringe;

Fur. Besides, there came last night, from the To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher;

forest of Sherwood,

The fattest stag I ever cook'd.

Gree. A stag, man?

Fur. A stag, sir; part of it prepar'd for din

ner,

And bak'd in puff-paste.

Gree. Puff-paste, too! Sir Giles,

A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded!
And red deer, too, Sir Giles, and bak'd in puff-

paste!

All business set aside, let us give thanks here.
Sir G. (Advancing.) You know, we cannot.
Mar. Your worships are to sit on a commission,
And, if you fail to come, you lose the cause.
Gree. Cause me no causes; I'll prove't, for such
a dinner,

We may put off a commission; you shall find it
Henrici decimo quarto.

Sir G. Fie, master Greedy,

Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a dinner?
No more, for shame! We must forget the belly,

When we think of profit.

Gree. Well, you shall o'er-rule me. I could e'en cry now.

Cook?

That have not souls only to hope a blessing
Beyond your master's leaving,-who advances?
Who shews me the way?

(Beats them.)

All the Servants. Help, fellows, help!
there!

Ord. Here comes my lady,

Enter LADY ALLWORTH.

Lady. How now? What noise is this?

Well. Madam, my designs

Bear me to you.

Lady. To me?

Well. And, though I've met with

Within

But ragged entertainment from your grooms here,
I hope from you to receive that noble usage,
As may become the true friend of your husband,
And then I shall forget these.

Lady. I'm amaz'd,

To see and hear this rudeness. Dar'st thou think,
Though sworn, that it can ever find belief
That I, who to the best men of this country
Denied my presence since my husband's death,
Can fall so low, as to exchange words with thee?
Well. Scorn me not, good lady;

Do you hear, master But, as in form you are angelical,

Send but a corner of that immortal pasty,
And, in thankfulness, will, by your boy,
Send you a brace of threepences.

Fur. Will you be so prodigal?

Sir G. (To Ord.) Remember me to your lady.
Enter WELLBORN.

Whom have we here?
Well. You know me.

Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe
At the least awhile to hear me. You will grant
The blood that runs in this arm is as noble
As that which fills your veins: your swelling titles,
Your ample fortune, with your men's observance
And women's flattery, are in you no virtues;
Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.
You have a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it;
Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more

Than in the pious sorrow you have shewn
For your late noble husband.

Ord. There he touch'd her.

(Aside.)

Well. That husband, madam, was once in his
fortune

Almost as low as I; want, debts, and quarrels,
Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought
A boast in me, though I say I relieved him.
"Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword
That did on all occasions second his;

I brought him on and off with honour, lady;
And when, in all men's judgments he was sunk,
And, in his own hopes, not to be buoy'd up,
I stepp❜t unto him, took him by the hand,
And set him upright.

Fur. Are we not base rogues,

That could forget this?

Well. I confess you made him

(Aside to Servants.)

Master of your estate; nor could your friends,
Tho' he brought no wealth with him, blame you

for't:

For he'd a shape, and to that shape a mind
Made up of all parts, either great or noble ;
So winning a behaviour, not to be

Resisted, madam.

Lady. 'Tis most true, he had.

Well. Nay, all's forgiven, all forgotten, friends;
And, for a lucky omen to my project,
Shake hands, and end'all quarrels in the cellar.
All the Servants. Agreed, agreed! Still merry,
Master Wellborn. [Exeunt all the Sere.
Well. Faith! a right worthy and a liberal lady,
Who can at once so kindly meet any purposes,
And brave the flouts of censure, to redeca
Her husband's friend! When, by this honest plot,
The world believes she means to heal my wants
With her extensive wealth, each noisy creditor
Will be struck mute: and I, thus left at large
To practise on my uncle Overreach,

May work, perhaps, the measure to redeem
My mortgag'd fortune, which he stripp'd me of,
When headlong dissipatlon quell'd my reason.
The fancy pleases: if the plot succeed,

'Tis a New Way to Pay Old Debts, indeed. [Exit.
ACT II.

SCENE I.-The Skirts of Lady Allworth's Park.
Enter SIR GILES and MARRALL.

Sir G. He's gone, I warrant thee; this commis-
sion crush'd him.

Mar. Your worship has the way on't, and ne'er
miss

To squeeze those unthrifts into air; and, yet,
The chap-fall'n justice did his part, returning,

Well. For his sake, then, in that I was his friend, For your advantage, the certificate,
Do not contemn me.

(Offers him her pocket book.)
Well. Madam, on no terms:
I will not beg nor borrow sixpence of you;
But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever.
One only suit I make: pray, give me leave.

(Lady Allworth signs to the Servants, who
retire.)

I will not tire your patience with relation
Of the bad arts my uncle Overreach
Still forg'd to strip me of my fair possessions;
Nor how he now shuts door upon my want.
Would you but vouchsafe

To your dear husband's friend,-as well you may,
Your honour still let free,-but such feign'd grace,
As might beget opinion in Sir Giles

Of a true passion tow'rds me, you would see,
In the mere thought to prey on me again,
When all that's yours were mine, he'd turn my
friend;

And, that no rub might stay my course to you,
Quit all my owings, set me trimly forth,
And furnish'd well with gold: which I should use,
I trust, to your no shame, lady; but live
Ever a grateful debtor to your gentleness.
Lady. What! nothing else?

(Offers her pocket-book again.) Well. Nothing: unless you please to charge your servants

To throw away a little respect upon me.
Lady. All you demand is yours.

Against his conscience and his knowledge too.
To the utter ruin

Of the poor farmer.

Sir G. "Twas for these good ends

I made him a justice: he that bribes his belly
Is certain to command his soul.

Mar. I wonder why, your worship having
The power to put this thin-gut in commission,
You are not in't yourself.

Sir G. Thou art a fool:

In being out of office, I am out of danger;
Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble,
I might, or out of wilfulness or error,
Run myself finely into a præmunire,
And so become a prey to the informer.
No, I'll have none on't: 'tis enough I keep
Greedy at my devotion; so he serve

My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not;
Friendship is but a word.

Mar. You are all wisdom.

Sir G. I would be worldly wise; for the other
wisdom.

That does prescribe us a well govern'd life,
And to do right to others as ourselves,
I value not an atom.

Mar. What course take you,

With your good patience, to edge in the manor
Of your neighbour, Mr. Frugal? As 'tis said,
He will not sell, nor borrow, nor exchange;
And his land lying in the midst of your many lord-
ships,

Is a foul blemish.

Sir G. I have thought of't, Marrall;

(She beckons the Servants, who advance And it shall take. I must have all men sellers, a little.)

Respect this gentleman,

As 'twere myself. Adieu, dear Master Wellborn:
Pray let me see you with your oftenest means:
I am ever bound to you.

(Going, Wellborn waiting on her.)

Ord. What means this, I trow?
Fur. Mischief to us, if he has malice in him.
Well. Your honour's servant. (Kisses her hand.)
[Exit Lady Allworth.
All the Servants. (To Wellborn.) Ah! sweet sir-

And I the only purchaser.

Mar. "Tis most fit, sir.

Sir G. I'll therefore buy some cottage near his

manor;

Which done, I'll make my men break ope his
fences,

Ride o'er his standing corn; and, in the night,
Set fire to his barns, or break his cattle's legs:
These trespasses draw on suits, and suits expenses,
Which I can spare, but will soon beggar him.
When I have harried him thus two of

Though he sue in formâ pauperis, in spite
Of all his thrift and care, he'll grow behindhand.
Mar. The best I ever heard! I could adore you.
Sir G. Then, with the favour of my man of law,
I will pretend some title: want will force him
To put it to arbitrement; then, if he sell
For half the value, he shall have ready money,
And I possess his land.

Mar. Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not
These fine arts, to hook him in.

Sir G. Well thought on;

This varlet, Marrall, lives too long, to upbraid me
With my close cheat put upon him. Will nor cold
Nor hunger kill him?

Mar. I know not what to think on't.

I've us'd all means; and, the last night, I caus'd
His host, the tapster, turn him out of doors;

And have been since with all your friends and
tenants,

And, on the forfeit of your favour, charg'd them, Though a crust of mouldy bread would keep him from starving,

Yet they should not relieve him.

Mar. By my religion!

Well. Thy religion?

The devil's creed! But what would you have done?
Mar. Before, like you, I had outliv'd my for-
tunes,

A withe had serv'd my turn to hang myself.
I'm zealous in your cause: pray, hang yourself,
And presently, as you love your eredit.
Well. I thank you.

Mar. Will you stay till you die in a ditch?
Or, if you dare not do the feat yourself,

But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble,

Sir G. That was something, Marrall; but thou Is there no purse to be cut? house to be broken? must go further,

And suddenly, Marrall.

Mar. Where and when you please, sir.

Sir G. I'd have thee seek him out, and, if thou
canst,

Persuade him that 'tis better steal than beg:
Then, if I prove he has but robb'd a hen roost,

Not all the world shall save him from the gallows.

Do anything to work him to despair,

And 'tis thy masterpiece.

Mar. I'll do my best, sir.

Or market-women with eggs that you may murder,
And so despatch the business?
Well. Here's a variety,

I must confess, but I'll accept none

Of all your gentle offers, I assure you.

Mar. If you like not hanging, drown yourself; take some course

For your reputation.

Well. "Twill not do, dear tempter,

With all the rhetoric the fiend hath taught you.

I am as far as thou art from despair;

Sir G. I'm now on my main work, with the Lord Nay, I have confidence, which is more than hope,

Lovell,

That ties her shoes, or any meaner office,
But such whose fathers were right worshipful.
'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been
More than a feud, a strange antipathy,

Between us and true gentry.

Enter WELLBORN.

Mar. See, who's here, sir.

Sir G. Hence, monster! prodigy!
Well. Call me what you will;

I am your nephew, sir; your sister's son.

Sir G. Avoid my sight! thy breath's infectious, rogue!

I shun thee as a leprosy, or the plague.

Come hither, Marrall. This is the time to work him.

To live and suddenly, better than ever.

Mar. Ha, ha! these castles you build in the air, Will not persuade me or to give or lend

A token to you.

Or, sure, these men are mad, to worship a dung-Nay, keep us company.

Some rails and quails, and my lady will'd me ask By fire! for cooks are Persians, and swear by it.