Wid. One taste more I had, although but little, To drop that wedlock ring from off my finger, Yet I grieved the loss; and did joy withal, Doc. This is but small. Wid. Nay sure I am of this opinion, Foster, a wealthy Merchant, has a profligate Brother, Stephen, whom Robert, Son to Foster, relieves out of Prison with some of his Father's Money entrusted to him. For this, his Father turns him out of doors and disinherits him. Meantime by a reverse of fortune, Stephen becomes rich; and Foster by Losses in Trade is thrown into the same Prison (Ludgate) from which his Brother had been relieved. Stephen adopts his Nephew, on the condition that he shall not assist or go near his Father: but filial piety prevails, above the consideration either of his Uncle's displeasure, or of his Father's late unkindness; and he visits his Father in Prison FOSTER. ROBERT. Fos. O torment to my soul, what mak'st thou here? Cannot the picture of my misery Be drawn, and hung out to the eyes of men, But thou must come to scorn and laugh at it? Rob. Dear Sir, I come to thrust my back under your load, To make the burthen lighter. Fos. Hence from my sight, dissembling villain, go: And And thou must bring it: hence, thou Basilisk, Rob. Alas, I mock ye not, but come in love Fos. Him and thee I curse. I'll starve ere I eat bread from his purse, Cover'd with all the villainies which man It was the hand of heaven struck me thus low, Rob. Dear Sir, for pity hear me. Fos. Upon my curse I charge, no nearer come; I'll be no father to so vile a son. Rob. O my abortive fate, Why for my good am I thus paid with hate? Now is my father here, whom if I succour, Now mine own father here must beg for bread, I'H I'll feed my father; though like the Pelican, I peck mine own breast for him. His Father appears above at the Grate, a Box Fos. Bread, bread, one penny to buy a loaf of bread, for the tender mercy. Rob. O me my shame! I know that voice full well; He stands where he is unseen by his Father. [Robert puts in money. The hand of heaven reward you, gentle Sir, Never may you want, never feel misery; Let blessings in unnumber'd measure grow, And fall upon your head, where'er you go. Rob. O happy comfort! curses to the ground First struck me now with blessings I am crown'd.50 Fos. Bread, bread, for the tender mercy, one penny for a loaf of bread. Rob. I'll buy more blessings: take thou all my store; I'll keep no coin and see my father poor. Fos. Good angels guard you, Sir, my prayers shall be That heaven may bless you for this charity. Rob. If he knew me, sure he would not say so: Yet I have comfort, if by any means I get a blessing from my father's hands. How cheap are good prayers! a poor penny buys And mounts to heaven. Enter Stephen. Oh me, mine uncle sees me. Step. Now, Sir, what makes you here 5 A blessing stolen at least as fairly as Jacob's was, So near the prison ? Rob. I was going, Sir, To buy meat for a poor bird I have, Step. So, Sir: Your pity will not quit your pains, I fear me. I shall find that bird (I think) to be that churlish wretch Your father, that now has taken Shelter here in Ludgate. Go to, Sir; urge me not, You'd best; I have giv'n you warning: fawn not on him, Nor come not near him if you'll have my love. Rob. 'Las, Sir; that lamb Were most unnatural that should hate the dam. Step. Lamb me no lambs, Sir. Rob. Good uncle, 'las, you know, when you lay here, I succour'd you so let me now help him. Step. Yes, as he did me; To laugh and triumph at my misery. You freed me with is gold, but 'gainst his will: For him I might have rotted, and lain still. So shall he now. Rob. Alack the day! Step. If him thou pity, 'tis thine own decay. Fos. Bread, bread, some charitable man remember the poor Prisoners, bread for the tender mercy, one penny. Rob. O listen, uncle, that's not near him. Rob. Oh my soul, my poor father's voice. Get you gone, and come What tortures dost thou feel! earth ne'er shall find A son so true, yet forc'd to be unkind. Robert disobeys his Uncle's Injunctions, and again visits his Father. FOSTER. WIFE. ROBERT. Fos. Ha! what art thou? Call for the keeper there, And thrust him out of doors, or lock me up. Wife. Wife. O'tis your son. Fos. I know him not. I am no king, unless of scorn and woe, Why kneel'st thou then, why dost thou mock me so? Not like a threatening storm to encrease your wrack, To lay them all on my own. Fos. Rise, mischief, rise; away, and get thee gone. I will depart, and wish I soon may die; Wife. Sweet husband. Fos. Get you both gone; That misery takes some rest that dwells alone. Rob. Heaven can tell; Ake but your finger, I to make it well Would cut my hand off. Fos. Hang thee, hang thee. Wife. Husband. Fos. Destruction meet thee. Turn the key there, ho. Oh, knew you, for your woes what pains I feel, You would not scorn me so. See, Sir, to cool Your heat of burning sorrow, I have got Fos. Stay. Rob. Good truth, Sir, I'll have none of it back, Could but one penny of it save my life, Wife. Yet stay, and hear him: Oh unnatural strife In a hard father's bosom. Fos. I see mine error now: Oh, can there grow A rose upon a bramble? did there ere flow Poison and health together in one tide? |