you must not consent to.
As he grows in heat (as I am sure he will)
Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt
Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land:
I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame)
When you were defeated of it.

_Wellb._ That's forgiven.

_Mar._ I shall deserve then----urge him to produce
The deed in which you pass'd it over to him,
Which I know he'll have about him to deliver
To the Lord Lovell.
I'll instruct you farther,
As I wait on your worship; if I play not my part
To your full content, and your uncle's much vexation,
Hang up Jack Marall.

_Wellb._ I rely upon thee. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_A Chamber in_ Sir Giles's _House_.

_Enter_ Allworth _and_ Margaret.

_Allw._ Whether to yield the first praise to my lord's
Unequal'd temperance, or your constant sweetness,
I yet rest doubtful.

_Marg._ Give it to Lord Lovell;
For what in him was bounty, in me's duty.
I make but payment of a debt, to which
My vows, in that high office register'd,
Are faithful witnesses.

_Allw._ 'Tis true, my dearest;
Yet, when I call to mind, how many fair ones
Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths and oaths.
To fill the arms of greatness;
And you, with matchless virtue, thus to hold out,
Against the stern authority of a father,
And spurn at honour, when it comes to court you;
I am so tender of your good, that I can hardly
Wish myself that right you are pleas'd to do me.

_Marg._ To me what's title when content is wanting?
Or wealth, when the heart pines
In being dispossess'd of what it longs for?
Or the smooth brow
Of a pleas'd sire, that slaves me to his will?
And, so his ravenous humour may be feasted
By my obedience, and he see me great,
Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power
To make her own election.

_Allw._ But the dangers
That follow the repulse.

_Marg._ To me they are nothing:
Let Allworth love, I cannot be unhappy.
Suppose the worst, that in his rage he kill me;
A tear or two by you drop'd on my hearse,
In sorrow for my fate, will call back life,
So far as but to say, that I die yours,
I then shall rest in peace.

_Allw._ Heaven avert
Such trials of your true affection to me!
Nor will it unto you, that are all mercy,
Show so much rigour. But since we must run
Such desperate hazards, let us do our best
To steer between them.

_Marg._ Lord Lovell is your friend;
And, though but a young actor, second me,
In doing to the life what he has plotted.

_Enter_ Sir Giles Ov