WELLBORN: No, indeed, you shall not: Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment; Your great looks fright not me. And whereas, sir, You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, Either restore my land, or I'll recover A debt, that is truly due to me from you, In value ten times more than what you challenge. OVERREACH: Oh, monstrous impudence! Did I not purchase The land left by thy father? [_Enter servant with a box_. Is not here The deed that does confirm it mine? MARRALL: Now, now. WELLBORN: I do acknowledge none; I ne'er passed o'er Any such land; I grant, for a year or two, You had it in trust; which if you do discharge, Surrendering the possession, you shall ease Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law. LADY ALLWORTH: In my opinion, he advises well. OVERREACH: Good, good; conspire with your new husband, lady. (_To_ WELLBORN) Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee give Thyself the lie, the loud lie! I draw out The precious evidence. (_Opens the box_.) Ha! LADY ALLWORTH: A fair skin of parchment. WELLBORN: Indented, I confess, and labels too; But neither wax nor words. How? Thunderstruck! Is this your precious evidence, my wise uncle? OVERREACH: What prodigy is this? What subtle devil Hath razed out the inscription--the wax Turned into dust? Do you deal with witches, rascal? This juggling shall not save you. WELLBORN: To save thee would beggar the stock of mercy. OVERREACH: Marrall! MARRALL: Sir. OVERREACH (_flattering him_): Though the witnesses are dead, Help with an oath or two; and for thy master I know thou wilt swear anything to dash This cunning sleight; the deed being drawn, too, By thee, my careful Marrall, and delivered When thou wert present, will make good my title. Wilt thou not swear this? MARRALL: I have a conscience not seared up like yours; I know no deeds. OVERREACH: Wilt thou betray me? MARRALL: Yes, and uncase you, too. The lump of flesh, The idiot, the patch, the slave, the booby, The property fit only to be beaten, Can now anatomise you, and lay open All your black plots. OVERREACH: But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee, And make thee wish and kneel in vain to die, These swords, that keep thee from me, should fix here. I play the fool and make my anger but ridiculous. There will be a time, and place, there will be, cowards! When you shall feel what I dare do. After these storms, at length a calm appears. [_Enter_ PARSON WILLDO. Welcome, most welcome; is the deed done? WILLDO: Yes, I assure you. OVERREACH: Vanish all sad thoughts! My doubts and fears are in the titles drowned Of my right honourable, right honourable daughter. A lane there for my lord!