But cannot read his virtues in your bond:

Which of you, as I enter'd, spake of betraying?

Was it you, or you, or, thin-face, was it you?

MARTIN.

Whom does he call thin-face?

SANDFORD.

No prating, loon, but tell me who he was, That I may brain the villain with my staff, That seeks Sir Walter's life?

You miserable men,

With minds more slavish than your slave's estate,

Have you that noble bounty so forgot,

Which took you from the looms, and from the

ploughs,

Which better had ye follow'd, fed ye, cloth'd

ye,

And entertain'd ye in a worthy service,

Where

your best

wages was s the world's repute, That thus ye seek his life, by whom ye live?

Have you forgot too,

How often in old times

Your drunken mirths have stunn'd day's sober

ears,

Carousing full cups to Sir Walter's health ?

Whom

now ye

Out of the reach of your poor treacheries.

would betray, but that he lies

This learn from me,

Our master's secret sleeps with trustier tongues, Than will unlock themselves to carls like you. Go, get you gone, you knaves. Who stirs ?

this staff

Shall teach you better manners else.

Well, we are going.

ALL.

SANDFORD.

And quickly too, ye had better, for I see
Young mistress Margaret coming this way.

(Exeunt all but Sandford.)

Enter Margaret, as in a fright, pursued by a Gentleman, who, seeing Sandford, retires muttering a curse.

SANDFORD.

MARGARET.

SANDFORD.

Good morrow to my fair mistress.

chance

I saw you, lady, so intent was I

"Twaş a

On chiding hence these graceless serving-men,

Who cannot break their fast at morning meals
Without debauch and mis-timed riotings.

This house hath been a scene of nothing else
But athiest riot and profane excess,

Since my old master quitted all his rights here.

MARGARET.

Each day I endure fresh insult from the scorn
Of Woodvil's friends, the uncivil jests,

And free discourses, of the dissolute men,
That haunt this mansion, making me their

mirth.

SANDFORD.

Does my young master know of these affronts?

MARGARET.

I cannot tell. Perhaps he has not been told.
Perhaps he might have seen them if he would.
I have known him more quick-sighted. Let that

pass.

All things seem chang'd, I think. I had a friend, (I can't but weep to think him alter'd too,)

These things are best forgotten; but I knew
A man, a young man, young, and full of honor,
That would have pick'd a quarrel for a straw,
And fought it out to the extremity,

E'en with the dearest friend he had alive,
On but a bare surmise, a possibility,

That Margaret had suffer'd an affront.

Some are too tame, that were too splenetic once.

SANDFORD.

"Twere best he should be told of these affronts.

MARGARET.

I am the daughter of his father's friend,
Sir Walter's orphan-ward.

I am not his servant maid, that I should wait
The opportunity of a gracious hearing,
Enquire the times and seasons when to put
My peevish prayer up at young Woodvil's feet,
And sue to him for slow redress, who was
Himself a suitor late to Margaret.

I am somewhat proud: and Woodvil taught me pride.

I was his favorite once, his playfellow in infancy,
And joyful mistress of his youth.

None once so pleasant in his eyes as Margaret.
His conscience, his religion, Margaret was,
His dear heart's confessor, a heart within that
heart,

And all dear things summ'd up in her alone.
As Margaret smil'd or frown'd,John liv'd or died:
His dress, speech, gesture, studies, friendships,

all

Being fashion'd to her liking.

His flatteries taught me first this self-esteem,
His flatteries and caresses, while he loved.
The world esteem'd her happy, who had won
His heart, who won all hearts;

And ladies envied me the love of Woodvil.

SANDFORD.

He doth affect the courtier's life too much,
Whose art is to forget,

And that has wrought this seeming change in him,

That was by nature noble.

"Tis these court-plagues, that swarm about our

house,

Have done the mischief, making his fancy giddy With images of state, preferment, place, Tainting his generous spirits with ambition.

MARGARET.

I know not how it is ;

A cold protector is John grown to me.

The mistress, and presumptive wife, of Wood

vil

Can never stoop so low to supplicate

A man, her equal, to redress those wrongs,
Which he was bound first to prevent;

But which his own neglects have sanction'd rather,