Part 13 (1/2)

He is a clever man, but quite mistaken there. You see, my heart never beats fast, but when I am agitated, and I was out of breath this morning with the stairs--O dear! [_Places his hand to his heart._]

Thou dost agitate me, girl--but there is no disease here--no! no! I am very ill--but I shall not die yet!

_Flor._ Dear father! pray be careful.

_Sir Sim._ Now, had he said 'twas asthma--'tis a long-lived complaint. I have known very old men with asthma. Our chirurgeon, Master Gilead Stubbs, said I was asthmatic, and we have been much together.

Many a good flagon of claret have we drank, and should he not know my const.i.tution?

_Basil._ Uncle!

_Sir Sim._ Yes, yes, I know. [_To Florence._] Come, thou must marry him. Curse on this physician. I never felt so before. [_Places his hand to his heart._]

_Flor._ Oh, father; do not urge this suit!

_Sir Sim._ Girl! I will leave thee nought if thou dost not--save my curse!

_Flor._ No, no!

_Sir Sim._ All my hopes----'Tis very odd. Stop, stop! I have a pain here, here! Wilt thou promise?

_Basil._ Murderess!

_Flor._ I will do all. O G.o.d!

_Enter ARTHUR, L._

_Sir Sim._ Who is this? 'Tis their father! I promised him that Arthur should wed my daughter.

He is come to claim her, and see, he beckons me--

[_Falls back and dies in the chair, servants bear him off, R._]

_Basil._ Dead, dead! I am frustrated.

_Flor._ Oh, Arthur! look to my father.

_Arth._ [_Returning and supporting her._] Thou hast no father, Florence! I have a home for thee, with one that's young and gentle like thyself. [_She faints._]

_Basil._ Mark, thou art my brother! I swear [_Aside._]

I will have vengeance! At the moment too She yielded. Beggar, thus to thwart me--Oh, If I dar'd, I could smite him, as he smiles On that unconscious, pretty piece of goods.

[_Retires, L., surly, looking at ARTHUR. Servants come in with BARBARA._]

_Arth._ Take her unto her chamber 'till we leave.

[_Servants take FLORENCE off, exeunt, R., all but BASIL._]

_Enter WYCKOFF stealthily to BASIL, L._

_Wyck._ As for your brother, in these troublesome times, as I said, it were less trouble to put him out of the way in a broil. Colour it with the affectation of party spirit, and, as you are on both sides, in a manner, it matters not on which you disagree. You might draw swords yourselves, and have me and one or two stout fellows near, who would rush in and stab him, as it were, to prevent mischief between you.

_Basil._ I tell you, it will not do. He is a favourite with Cromwell. How often am I to tell you that I would not break with Noll. There are secrets! You see one does not know yet which side will prevail.