Enter D'Amville and Castabella.
D'Am. Daughter, you do not well to urge me. I
Ha' done no more than justice. Charlemont
Shall die and rot in prison, and 'tis just.
Cast. O father, mercy is an attribute
As high as justice, an essential part
Of his unbounded goodness, whose divine
Impression, form, and image man should bear!
And, methinks, man should love to imitate
His mercy, since the only countenance
Of justice were destruction, if the sweet
And loving favour of his mercy did
Not mediate between it and our weakness.
D'Am. Forbear. You will displease me. He shall rot.
Cast. Dear sir, since by your greatness you
Are nearer heaven in place, be nearer it
In goodness. Rich men should transcend the poor
As clouds the earth, raised by the comfort of
The sun to water dry and barren grounds.
If neither the impression in your soul
Of goodness, nor the duty of your place
As goodness' substitute can move you, then
Let nature, which in savages, in beasts,
Can stir to pity, tell you that he is
Your kinsman.—
D'Am. You expose your honesty
To strange construction. Why should you so urge
Release for Charlemont? Come, you profess
More nearness to him than your modesty
Can answer. You have tempted my suspicion.
I tell thee he shall starve, and die, and rot.
Enter Charlemont and Sebastian.
Charl. Uncle, I thank you.
D'Am. Much good do it you.—Who did release him?
Sebas. I. [Exit Castabella.
D'Am. You are a villain.
Sebas. Y'are my father. [Exit Sebastian.
D'Am. I must temporize.—[Aside.
Nephew, had not his open freedom made
My disposition known, I would ha' borne
The course and inclination of my love
According to the motion of the sun,
Invisibly enjoyed and understood.
Charl. That shows your good works are directed to
No other end than goodness. I was rash,
I must confess. But—
D'Am. I will excuse you.
To lose a father and, as you may think,
Be disinherited, it must be granted
Are motives to impatience. But for death,
Who can avoid it? And for his estate,
In the uncertainty of both your lives
'Twas done discreetly to confer't upon
A known successor being the next in blood.
And one, dear nephew, whom in time to come
You shall have cause to thank. I will not be
Your dispossessor but your guardian.
I will supply your father's vacant place
To guide your green improvidence of youth,
And make you ripe for your inheritance.
Charl. Sir, I embrace your generous promises.
Enter Rousard looking sickly, and Castabella.
Rous. Embracing! I behold the object that
Mine eye affects. Dear cousin Charlemont!
D'Am. My elder son! He meets you happily.
For with the hand of our whole family
We interchange the indenture[163] of our loves.
Charl. And I accept it. Yet not so joyfully
Because y'are sick.
D'Am. Sir, his affection's sound
Though he be sick in body.
Rous. Sick indeed.
A general weakness did surprise my health
The very day I married Castabella,
As if my sickness were a punishment
That did arrest me for some injury
I then committed. Credit me, my love,
I pity thy ill fortune to be matched
With such a weak, unpleasing bedfellow.
Cast. Believe me, sir, it never troubles me.
I am as much respectless to enjoy
Such pleasure, as ignorant what it is.
Charl. Thy sex's wonder. Unhappy Charlemont!
D'Am. Come, let's to supper. There we will confirm
The eternal bond of our concluded love. [Exeunt.