A Collection Of Old English Plays, Vol. IV. | Page 8

acknowledge me To be their Landlord; they frequent my house, With Turkeys, Capons, Pigeons, Pigges and Geese, And all to game my favour and goodwill. His plate, his iewels, hangings, household stuffe, May well beseeme to fit a demie King; His stately buildings, his delightfull walkes, His fertile meadowes, and rich ploughed lands, His well-growne woods and stor'd fishing ponds, Brings endlesse wealth, besides continuall helpe, To keepe a good and hospitable house: And shall I ioy these pleasures but a time? Nay brother, sister, all shall pardon me, Before ile sell my selfe to penurie. The world doth know thy brother but resigned The lands and goods untill his sonne attain'de To riper years to weld [_sic_] and governe them. Then openly thou canst not do him wrong, He living: theres the burthen of the song. Call it a burthen, for it seemes so great And heavie burthen, that the boy should live And thrust me from this height of happinesse, That I will not indure so heavie waight, But shake it off, and live at libertie, Free from the yoake of such subjection. The boy shall dye, were he my fathers sonne, Before ile part with my possession. Ile call my sonne, and aske his good advice, How I may best dispatch this serious cause.-- Hoe, sir, Allenso!
Alle. Father.
Fall. Hearken, sonne. I must intreate your furtherance and advise About a thing that doth concerne us neere. First tell me how thou doost affect in heart Little Pertillo, thy dead Unckles sonne.
Allen. So well, good father, that I cannot tell, Whether I love him dearer then my selfe; And yet if that my heart were calde to count, I thinke it would surrender me to death, Ere young Pertillo should sustain a wrong.
Fall. How got his safetie such a deepe regarde Within your heart, that you affect it so?
Allen. Nature gave roote; love, and the dying charge, Of his dead father, gives such store of sap Unto this tree of my affection That it will never wither till I dye.
Fall. But nature, love, and reason, tells thee thus, Thy selfe must yet be neerest to thyselfe.
Allen. His love dooth not estrange me from my selfe, But doth confirme my strength with multitudes Of benefits his love will yeelde to me.
Fall. Beware to foster such pernicious snakes Within thy bosome, which will poyson thee.
Allen. He is a Dove, a childe, an innocent, And cannot poyson, father, though he would.
Fall. I will be plainer: know, Pertillos life, Which thou doost call a dove, an innocent, A harmlesse childe, and, and I know not what, Will harm thee more, than any Serpent can, I, then the very sight of Basiliskes.
Allen. Father you tell me of a strange discourse. How can his life produce such detriment, As Basiliskes, whose only sight is death?
Fall. Hearken to me, and I will tell thee how; Thou knowst his fathers goods, his houses, lands, Have much advaunc'd our reputation, In having but their usage for a time. If the boy live, then like to sencelesse beasts, Like longd-eard Asses and riche-laden Mules, We must resign these treasures to a boye, And we like Asses feede on simple haye: Make him away, they shall continue ours By vertue of his fathers Testament,-- The iewels, castles, medowes, houses, lands, Which thy small cozen should defeate thee of, Be still thine owne, and thou advance thy selfe, Above the height of all thine Auncestours.
Allen. But if I mount by murther and deceite, Iustice will thrust aspiring thoughts belowe, And make me caper for to breake my neck, After some wofull lamentation Of my obedience to unlawfulnesse. I tell you plaine, I would not have him dye, Might I enjoy the Soldans Emperie.
Fall. What, wilt thou barre thy selfe of happinesse? Stop the large streame of pleasures which would flowe, And still attend on thee like Servingmen? Preferre the life of him that loves thee not Before thine owne and my felicitie?
Allen. Ide rather choose to feede on carefulnesse, To ditche, to delve, and labour for my bread, Nay rather choose to begge from doore to doore, Then condiscend to offer violence To young Pertillo in his innocence. I know you speake, to sound what mightie share Pertillo hath in my affection.
Fall. In faith I do not; therefore, prethie, say, Wilt thou consent to have him made away?
Allen. Why, then in faithe I am ashamde to think, I had my being from so foule a lumpe Of adulation and unthankfulnesse. Ah, had their dying praiers no availe Within your hart? no, damnd extorcion Hath left no roome for grace to harbor in! Audacious sinne, how canst thou make him say Consent to make my brothers sonne away?
Fall. Nay if you ginne to brawle, withdrawe your selfe, But utter not the motion[10]