done, indeed.
Y. LORD W. Yet I believe Haddit had his part, for, to my thinking, the cellar went round with him when he left us. But are we come to a bed yet? I must needs sleep.
P. SER. Come softly by any means, for we are now upon the threshold of my master's chamber, through which I'll bring you to Mistress Rebecca's lodging. Give me your hand, and come very nicely.
[PETER _falls into the hole_.
Y. LORD W. Where art, Peter?
P. SER. O, O!
Y. LORD W. Where's this noise, Peter? canst tell?
HOG. I hear the voice of my adopted son-in-law.
Y. LORD W. Why, Peter, wilt not answer me?
P. SER. O, my Lord above, stand still; I'm fallen down at least thirty fathom deep. If you stand not still till I recover, and have lighted a candle, you're but a dead man.
HOG. I am robb'd, I am undone, I am deluded! Who's in my chamber?
Y. LORD W. 'Tis I, the lord your son, that shall be; upon my honour, I came not to rob you.
HOG. I shall run mad! I shall run mad!
Y. LORD W. Why, then, 'tis my fortune to be terrified with madmen.
_Enter_ PETER SERVITUDE, _with a candle_.
P. SER. Where are you, my lord?
HOG. Here, my lady. Where are you, rogue, when thieves break into my house?
P. SER. Breaking my neck in your service--a plague on't!
Y. LORD W. But are you robbed, indeed, father Hog? Of how much, I pray?
HOG. Of all, of all! See here, they have left me nothing but two or three rolls of parchment; here they came up like spirits, and took my silver, gold, and jewels. Where's my daughter?
P. SER. She's not in the house, sir. The street-doors are wide open.
Y. LORD W. Nay, 'tis no matter where she is now. She'll scarce be worth a thousand pound, and that's but a tailor's prize.[399]
HOG. Then you'll not have her, sir?
Y. LORD W. No, as I hope to live in peace.
HOG. Why, be't so, be't so; confusion cannot come in a fitter time on all of us. O bountiful Croesus! how fine thy shadow hath devoured my substance!
P. SER. Good my lord, promise him to marry his daughter, or he will be mad presently, though you never intend to have her.
Y. LORD W. Well, father Hog, though you are undone, your daughter shall not be, so long as a lord can stand her in any stead. Come, you shall with me to my lord and father, whose warrants we will have for the apprehending of all suspicious livers; and, though the labour be infinite, you must consider your loss is so.
HOG. Come, I'll do anything to gain my gold.
P. SER. Till which be had, my fare will be but cold.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ HADDIT, REBECCA, LIGHTFOOT, _and_ PRIEST.
HAD. Now, Master Parson, we will no further trouble you; and, for the tying of our true love-knot, here's a small amends.
PRIEST. 'Tis more than due, sir; yet I'll take it all.
Should kindness be despis'd, goodwill would fall Unto a lower ebb, should we detest The grateful giver's gift, _verissimo est_.
HAD. It's true, indeed; good morrow, honest parson.
PRIEST. Yet, if you please, sir John will back surrender The overplus of what you now did tender.
HAD. O, by no means; I prythee, friend, good morrow.
LIGHT. Why. if you please, sir John, to me restore The overplus: I'll give it to the poor.
PRIEST. O, pardon, sir, for, by your worship's leave, We ought to give from whence we do receive.
HAD. Why, then, to me, sir John.
PRIEST. To all a kind good-morrow. [_Exit_ PRIEST.
HAD. A most fine vicar; there was no other means to be rid of him. But why are you so sad, Rebecca?
REB. To think in what estate my father is, When he beholds that he is merely gull'd.
HAD. Nay, be not grieved for that which should rather give you cause of content; for 'twill be a means to make him abandon his avarice, and save a soul almost incurable. But now to our own affairs: this marriage of ours must not yet be known, lest it breed suspicion. We will bring you, Rebecca, unto Atlas's house, whilst we two go unto the old Lord Wealthy's, having some acquaintance with his son-in-law Carracus, who I understand is there; where no question but we shall find your father proclaiming his loss: thither you shall come somewhat after us, as it were to seek him; where I doubt not but so to order the matter, that I will receive you as my wife from his own hands.
REB. May it so happy prove!
LIGHT. Amen, say I; for, should our last trick be known, great Croesus's shade would have a conjured time on't.
HAD. 'Tis true, his castle of adamant would scarce hold him; but come, this will be good cause for laughter hereafter.
Then we'll relate how this great bird was pull'd Of his rich feathers, and most finely gull'd. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ OLD LORD WEALTHY, _with_ CARRACUS, MARIA, _and_ ALBERT.
O. LORD W. More welcome, Carracus, than friendly truce To a besieged city all distress'd: How early this glad morning are you come To make me happy? for pardon of your offence I've given a blessing, which may heaven confirm In treble manner on your virtuous lives!
CAR. And may our lives and duty daily strive To be found worthy of that loving favour, Which from your reverend age we now receive Without desert or merit!