Allworth: I will not fail, my lord.
[Exit.
Overreach: I came 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.
Lovell: You are a right kind father.
Overreach: You'll have reason
To think me such. How do you like this seat?
Would it not serve to entertain your friends?
Lovell: A well-built pile; and she that's mistress of it,
Worthy the large revenue.
Overreach: She, the mistress?
It may be so for a time; but let my lord
Say only he but like it, and would have it,
I say ere long 'tis his.
Lovell: Impossible.
Overreach: You do conclude too fast. 'Tis not alone
The Lady Allworth's lands; for these, 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.
Lovell: I dare not own
What's by unjust and cruel means extorted:
My fame and credit are too dear to me.