Sir Charles Mountford. Neither, sister: But hear me in my strange assertion. Thy honour and my soul are equal in my regard; Nor will thy brother Charles survive thy shame. His kindness, like a burthen hath surcharged me, And under his good deeds I stooping go, Not with an upright soul. Had I remained In prison still, there doubtless I had died: Then, unto him that freed me from that prison, Still do I owe this life. What moved my foe To enfranchise me? ’Twas, sister, for your love. With full five hundred pounds he bought your love, And shall he not enjoy it? Shall the weight Of all this heavy burthen lean on me, And will not you bear part? You did partake The joy of my release; will you not stand In joint-bond bound to satisfy the debt? Shall I be only charged? Susan. But that I know These arguments come from an honoured mind, As in your most extremity of need Scorning to stand in debt to one you hate,-- Nay, rather would engage your unstained honour Than to be held ingrate,--I should condemn you. I see your resolution, and assent; So Charles will have me, and I am content. Sir Charles Mountford. For this I tricked you up. Susan. But here’s a knife, To save mine honour, shall slice out my life. Sir Charles Mountford. Ay! know thou pleasest me a thousand times More in that resolution than thy grant.-- Observe her love; to soothe it to my suit, Her honour she will hazard, though not lose: To bring me out of debt, her rigorous hand Will pierce her heart. O wonder! that will choose, Rather than stain her blood, her life to lose.-- Come, you sad sister to a woful brother, This is the gate: I’ll bear him such a present, Such an acquittance for the knight to seal, As will amaze his senses, and surprise With admiration all his fantasies. Susan. Before his unchaste thoughts shall seize on me, ’Tis here shall my imprisoned soul set free. _Enter_ Sir Francis Acton _and_ Malby. Sir Francis Acton. How! Mountford with his sister, hand in hand! What miracle’s afoot? Malby. It is a sight Begets in me much admiration. Sir Charles Mountford. Stand not amazed to see me thus attended: Acton, I owe thee money, and being unable To bring thee the full sum in ready coin, Lo! for thy more assurance, here’s a pawn,-- My sister, my dear sister, whose chaste honour I prize above a million: here, nay, take her; She’s worth your money, man; do not forsake her. Sir Francis Acton. I would he were in earnest! Susan. Impute it not to my immodesty: My brother being rich in nothing else But in his interest that he hath in me, According to his poverty hath brought you Me, all his store; whom howsoe’er you prize As forfeit to your hand, he values highly, And would not sell, but to acquit your debt, For any emperor’s ransom.