reedy _and_ Allworth.

_Sir G._ To my wish, we're private,
I come not to make offer with my daughter
A certain portion; that were poor and trivial:
In one word, I pronounce all that is mine,
In lands, or leases, ready coin, or goods,
With her, my lord, comes to you; nor shall you have
One motive to induce you to believe
I live too long, since every year I'll add
Something unto the heap, which shall be yours too.

_Lov._ You are a right kind father.

_Sir G._ You shall have reason
To think me such. How do you like this seat?
It is well wooded, and well water'd, the acres
Fertile and rich; would it not serve for change,
To entertain your friends in a summer's progress?
What thinks my noble lord?

_Lov._ 'Tis a wholesome air,
And well built; and she, that's mistress of it,
Worthy the large revenue.

_Sir G._ She the mistress?
It may be so for a time; but let my lord
Say only, that he but like it, and would have it,
I say, ere long 'tis his.

_Lov._ Impossible!

_Sir G._ You do conclude too fast, not knowing me,
Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone
The lady Allworth's lands; for those, once Wellborn's
(As by her dotage on him I know they will be,)
Shall soon be mine. But point out any man's
In all the shire, and say they lie convenient,
And useful for your lordship, and once more
I say aloud, they are yours.

_Lov._ I dare not own
What's by unjust and cruel means extorted.
My fame and credit are more dear to me,
Than to expose 'em to be censur'd by
The public voice.

_Sir G._ You run, my lord, no hazard;
Your reputation, shall stand as fair
In all good men's opinions, as now:
Nor can my actions, though condemned for ill,
Cast any foul aspersion upon yours.
For though I do contemn report myself,
As a mere sound; I still will be so tender
Of what concerns you in all points of honour,
That the immaculate whiteness of your fame,
Nor your unquestioned integrity,
Shall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot;
All my ambition is to have my daughter
Right honourable, which my lord can make her:
And might I live to dance upon my knee
A young Lord Lovell, born by her unto you,
I write _nil ultra_ to my proudest hopes.

_Lov._ Are you not frightened with the imprecations
And curses of whole families, made wretched
By such practices?

_Sir G._ Yes, as rocks are,
When foamy billows split themselves against
Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is mov'd,
When wolves, with hunger pin'd, howl at her b