Overreach: Your reputation shall stand as fair
In all good men's opinions as now.
All my ambition is to have my daughter
Right honourable; which my lord can make her:
And might I live to dance upon my knee
A young Lord Lovell, borne by her unto you,
I write nil ultra to my proudest hopes.
I'll ruin the country to supply your waste:
The scourge of prodigals, want, shall never find you.
Lovell: Are you not moved with the imprecations
And curses of whole families, made wretched
By these practices?
Overreach: Yes, as rocks are,
When foamy billows split themselves against
Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is moved
When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness.
I only think what 'tis to have my daughter
Right honourable; and 'tis a powerful charm,
Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity,
Or the least sting of conscience.
Lovell: I admire
The toughness of your nature.
Overreach: 'Tis for you,
My lord, and for my daughter I am marble.
My haste commands me hence: in one word, therefore,
Is it a match, my lord?
Lovell: I hope that is past doubt now.
Overreach: Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind,
Not fear of what can fall on me hereafter,
Shall make me study aught but your advancement
One storey higher: an earl! if gold can do it.
[Exit.
Lovell: He's gone; I wonder how the earth can bear
Such a portent! I, that have lived a soldier,
And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted,
Am bathed in a cold sweat.
Scene II.—A chamber in Sir Giles's house. Enter Wellborn and Marrall.