Speed the Plough | Page 6

Thomas Morton
Henry, well met.
Henry. Have you seen strangers?
Everg. No!
Henry. Two but now have left this place--They spoke of a lost
child--My busy fancy led me to think I was the object of their search--I
pressed forward, but they avoided me.

Everg. No, no; it could not be you; for no one on earth knows but
myself, and----
Henry. Who? Sir Philip Blandford?
Everg. I am sworn, you know, my dear boy; I am solemnly sworn to
silence.
Henry. True, my good old friend; and if the knowledge of who I am can
only be obtained at the price of thy perjury, let me for ever remain
ignorant--let the corroding thought still haunt my pillow, cross me at
every turn, and render me insensible to the blessings of health and
liberty--yet, in vain do I suppress the thought--who am I? why thus
abandoned? perhaps the despised offspring of guilt--Ah! is it so?
[Seizing him violently.
Everg. Henry, do I deserve this?
Henry. Pardon me, good old man! I'll act more reasonably--I'll deem
thy silence mercy.
Everg. That's wisely said.
Henry. Yet it is hard to think, that the most detested reptile that nature
forms, or man pursues, has, when he gains his den, a parent's pitying
breast to shelter in; but I----
Everg. Come, come, no more of this.
Henry. Well!----I visited to-day that young man who was so grievously
bruised by the breaking of his team.
Everg. That was kindly done, Henry.
Henry. I found him suffering under extreme torture, yet a ray of joy
shot from his languid eye--for his medicine was administered by a
father's hand--it was a mother's precious tear that dropped upon his
wound--Oh, how I envied him!

Everg. Still on the same subject--I tell thee, if thou art not
acknowledged by thy race, why, then become the noble founder of a
new one.--Come with me to the castle, for the last time.
Henry. The last time!
Everg. Aye, boy; for, when Sir Philip arrives, you must avoid him.
Henry. Not see him! where exists the power that shall prevent me?
Everg. Henry, if you value your own peace of mind--if you value an old
man's comfort, avoid the castle.
Henry. [Aside.] I must dissemble with this honest creature--Well, I am
content.
Everg. That's right--that's right,--Henry--Be but thou resigned and
virtuous, and He, who clothes the lily of the field, will be a parent to
thee. [Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.
A Lodge belonging to the Castle.
Dame Ashfield discovered making lace.
Enter HANDY, jun.
Handy, jun. A singular situation this my old dad has placed me in;
brought me here to marry a woman of fashion and beauty, while I have
been professing, and I've a notion feeling, the most ardent love for the
pretty Susan Ashfield--Propriety says, take Miss Blandford--Love says,
take Susan--Fashion says, take both--but would Susan consent to such
an arrangement?--and if she refused, would I consent to part with
her?--Oh, time enough to put that question, when the previous one is

disposed of--[Seeing DAME.] How do you do? How do you
do?--Making lace, I perceive--Is it a common employment, here?
Dame. Oh, no, sir? nobody can make it in these parts but myself!--Mrs.
Grundy, indeed, pretends--but, poor woman! she knows no more of it
than you do.
Handy, jun. Than I do! that's vastly well;--My dear madam, I passed
two months at Mechlin for the express purpose.
Dame. Indeed!
Handy, jun. You don't do it right--now I can do it much better than that.
Give me leave, and I'll shew you the true Mechlin method [Turns the
cushion round, kneels down, and begins working.] First you see,
so--then, so--
Enter SIR ABEL, and MISS BLANDFORD.
Sir Abel. I vow, Miss Blandford, fair as I ever thought you, the air of
your native land has given additional lustre to your charms!--[Aside.] If
my wife looked so--Ah! but where can Bob be?--You must know, miss,
my son is a very clever fellow! you won't find him wasting his time in
boyish frivolity!--no; you will find him-- [Sees him.
Miss B. Is that your son, sir?
Sir Abel. [Abashed.] Yes, that's Bob!
Miss B. Pray, sir, is he making lace, or is he making love?
Sir Abel. Curse me if I can tell. [Hits him with his stick.] Get up, you
dog! don't you see Miss Blandford?
Handy, jun. [Starting up.] Zounds! how unlucky! Ma'am, your most
obedient servant. [Endeavours to hide the work.] Curse the cushion!
[Throws it off.
Dame. Oh! he has spoiled my lace!

Handy, jun. Hush! I'll make you a thousand yards another time--You
see, ma'am, I was explaining to this good woman--what--what need not
be explained again--Admirably handsome, by Heaven! [Aside.
Sir Abel. Is not she, Bob?
Handy, jun. [To MISS B.] In your journey from the coast, I
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