Sir Charles Mountford. Thou grumblest out the sweetest music to me That ever organ played. Is this a dream? Or do my waking senses apprehend The pleasing taste of these applausive news? Slave that I was, to wrong such honest friends, My loving kinsmen, and my near allies. Tongue, I will bite thee for the scandal breathed Against such faithful kinsmen: they are all Composed of pity and compassion, Of melting charity, and of moving ruth. That which I spake before was in my rage; They are my friends, the mirrors of this age, Bounteous and free. The noble Mountford’s race, Ne’er bred a covetous thought, or humour base. _Enter_ Susan. Susan. I can no longer stay from visiting My woful brother: while I could, I kept My hapless tidings from his hopeful ear. Sir Charles Mountford. Sister, how much am I indebted to thee, And to thy travel! Susan. What, at liberty? Sir Charles Mountford. Thou seest I am, thanks to thy industry: Oh! unto which of all my courteous friends Am I thus bound? My uncle Mountford, he Even of an infant loved me: was it he? So did my cousin Tidy; was it he? So Master Roder, Master Sandy too: Which of all these did this high kindness do? Susan. Charles, can you mock me in your poverty, Knowing your friends deride your misery? Now, I protest I stand so much amazed To see your bonds free, and your irons knocked off, That I am rapt into a maze of wonder: The rather for I know not by what means This happiness hath chanced. Sir Charles Mountford. Why, by my uncle, My cousins, and my friends: who else, I pray, Would take upon them all my debts to pay? Susan. O brother, they are men all of flint, Pictures of marble, and as void of pity As chased bears. I begged, I sued, I kneeled, Laid open all your griefs and miseries, Which they derided; more than that, denied us A part in their alliance; but, in pride, Said that our kindred with our plenty died. Sir Charles Mountford. Drudges too much--what did they? oh, known evil! Rich fly the poor, as good men shun the devil. Whence should my freedom come? of whom alive, Saving of those, have I deserved so well? Guess, sister, call to mind, remember[1.33] me: These I have raised; they follow the world’s guise; Whom rich in honour, they in woe despise. Susan. My wits have lost themselves, let’s ask the keeper. Sir Charles Mountford. Gaoler! Keeper. At hand, sir. Sir Charles Mountford. Of courtesy resolve me one demand. What was he took the burthen of my debts From off my back, stayed my appeal to death, Discharged my fees, and brought me liberty? Keeper. A courteous knight, one called Sir Francis Acton.