OVERREACH: Good, good;
conspire
with your new husband, lady.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
[LADY ALLWORTH _turns away_.
WELLBORN: Well, sir, and what follows?
OVERREACH: Marry, this, since you are peremptory. Remember
Upon mere hope of your great match I lent you
A thousand pounds. Put me in good security,
And suddenly, by mortgage or by statute,
Of some of your new possessions, or I'll have you
Dragged in your lavender robes to the jail.
Shall I have security?
WELLBORN: No, indeed, you shall not:
Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment;
Your great looks fright not me. And whereas, sir,
You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds,
Either restore my land, or I'll recover
A debt, that is truly due to me from you,
In value ten times more than what you challenge.
OVERREACH: Oh, monstrous impudence! Did I not purchase
The land left by thy father? [_Enter servant with a box_.
Is not here
The deed that does confirm it mine?
MARRALL: Now, now.
WELLBORN: I do acknowledge none; I ne'er passed o'er
Any such land; I grant, for a year or two,
You had it in trust; which if you do discharge,
Surrendering the possession, you shall ease
Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law.
LADY ALLWORTH: In my opinion, he advises well.
OVERREACH: Good, good; conspire with your new husband, lady.
(_To_ WELLBORN) Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give
Thyself the lie, the loud lie! I draw out
The precious evidence. (_Opens the box_. ) Ha!
LADY ALLWORTH: A fair skin of parchment.
WELLBORN: Indented, I confess, and labels too;
But neither wax nor words. How? Thunderstruck!
Is this your precious evidence, my wise uncle?
OVERREACH: What prodigy is this? What subtle devil
Hath razed out the inscription--the wax
Turned into dust? Do you deal with witches, rascal?
This juggling shall not save you.
WELLBORN: To save thee would beggar the stock of mercy.
OVERREACH: Marrall!