The Brothers, Vindici and Hippolito, threaten their Mother with Death for Consenting to the Dishonor of their Sister. Vin. O thou for whom no name is bad enough! Moth. What mean my sons? what, will you murther me? Hip. Friend [? fiend] of women! Moth. Oh! are sons turn'd monsters! help! Vin. In vain. Moth. Are you so barbarous to set iron nipples Upon the breast that gave you suck? Vin. That breast Is turn'd to quarled poison. Moth. Cut not your days for't. Am not I your mother? For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd. Moth. A bawd! O name far loathsomer than hell! Vin. Ah, is it possible, you powers on high, Vin. Did not the duke's son direct A fellow of the world's condition hither, That did corrupt all that was good in thee? And work our sister to his purpose?1 That had been monstrous. I defy that man Good son, believe it not. Vin. O, I'm in doubt Whether I am myself or no Stay, let me look again upon this face. Who shall be saved when mothers have no grace? Hip. "Twould make one half despair. Vin. I was the man. Defy me now, let's see, do't modestly. Moth. O hell unto my soul ! [Resumes his Disguise. Vin. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son, Tried you, and found you base metal, As any villain might have done. ["Lust" in Tourneur.] Moth. O no, No tongue but yours could have bewitch'd me so. I am confuted in a word. Moth. O sons, Forgive me, to myself I'll prove more true; Vin. A mother to give aim to her own daughter! Vin. Nay, and you draw tears once, go you to bed. Vin. I' faith 'tis a sweet shower, it does much good. Have been long dry: pour down, thou blessed dew! Take this infectious spot out of my soul; Vin. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother: Hip. Let it be. Vin. For honest women are so seld and rare, Now the disease has left you, how leprously Would have worn masks to hide their face at you. Green-colour'd maids would have turn'd red with shame. The duke's son's great concubine! A drab of state, a cloth-o'-silver slut, To have her train borne up, and her soul trail in the dirt! Ask but the thriving'st harlot in cold blood, Hip. O brother, you forget our business. Moth. I'll give you this, that one I never knew Hip. Commend us in all virtue to our sister. Vin. Ay, for the love of heaven, to that true maid. Vin. Why, that was motherly said.1 Castiza seems to consent to her Mother's wicked motion.2 CASTIZA. MOTHER. Cast. Now, mother, you have wrought with me so strongly, That, what for my advancement, as to calm The trouble of your tongue, I am content. Moth. Content, to what? Cast. To do as you have wish'd me; To prostitute my breast to the duke's son, Moth. I hope you will not so. Cast. Hope you I will not? That's not the hope you look to be saved in. Moth. Truth, but it is. Cast. Do not deceive yourself. I am as you, e'en out of marble wrought. What would you now? are ye not pleas'd yet with me? 1 The reality and life of this Dialogue passes any scenical illusion I ever felt. I never read it but my ears tingle, and I feel a hot blush spread my cheeks, as if I were presently about to "proclaim" some such "malefactions" of myself, as the Brothers here rebuke in their unnatural parent; in words more keen and dagger-like than those which Hamlet speaks to his mother. Such power has the passion of shame truly personated, not only to "strike guilty creatures unto the soul," but to 'appal" even those that are "free." 2[Five lines omitted.] You shall not wish me to be more lascivious, Than I intend to be. Moth. Strike not me cold. Cast. How often have you charg'd me on your blessing Your blessing had no force to make me lewd, O let my breath revive it to a flame. Put not all out with woman's wilful follies. I am recover'd of that foul disease That haunts too many mothers; kind, forgive me, My words prevail'd, when they were wickedness, Of the black serpent, as you wound about me! Moth. "Tis unfruitful held, tedious, to repeat what's past. I'm now your present mother. Cast. Pish, now 'tis too late. Moth. Bethink again, thou know'st not what thou say'st. Cast. No! deny advancement! treasure! the duke's son! Moth. O see, I spoke those words, and now they poison me. What will the deed do then? Advancement! true; as high as shame can pitch! Or could build by the purchase of her sin An hospital to keep their bastards in? The duke's son! Oh; when women are young courtiers, To know the miseries most harlots taste, Thou'dst wish thyself unborn when thou'rt unchaste. Cast. O mother, let me twine about your neck, And kiss you till my soul melt on your lips: I did but this to try you. Moth. O, speak truth. Cast. Indeed I did not; for no tongue hath force To alter me from honest: If maidens would, men's words could have no power; VOL. IV.-11 A virgin's honour is a chrystal tower, Which being weak is guarded with good spirits; Until she basely yields, no ill inherits. Moth. O happy child! faith, and thy birth, hath saved me, 'Mongst thousand daughters, happiest of all others; Buy thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers. Evil Report after Death. What is it to have A flattering false insculption on a tomb, [Act iv., Sc. 4.1] And in men's hearts reproach? the 'bowel'd corpse May be sear❜d in, but (with free tongue I speak) The faults of great men through their sear-clothes break. Bastards. O what a grief 'tis that a man should live But once in the world, and then to live a Bastard! The curse of the womb, the thief of nature, Begot against the seventh commandment, Of that unbribed everlasting law! Too nice respects in Courtship. Ceremony has made many fools. It is as easy way unto a duchess As to a hatted dame, if her love answer : [Act i., Sc. 2.] [Act i., Sc. 2.] [Act i., Sc. 2.] THE DEVIL'S LAW CASE; OR, WHEN WOMEN GO TO Con. Sir; my love to you has proclaim'd you one, [With the omissions named, the whole Scene.] |