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, ev'n out of marble wrought. What would you now? are ye not pleased yet with me? Than I intend to be. Moth. Strike not me cold. Cast. How often have you charged 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. That haunts too many mothers; kind, forgive me, My words prevail'd, when they were wickedness, 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! For treasure: who e'er knew a harlot rich? The duke's son! O; 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; Which being weak is guarded with good spirits; 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, And in men's hearts reproach ? the 'bowel'd corpse O what a grief 'tis that a man should live But once in the world, and then to live a bastard! Begot against the seventh commandment, Half damn'd in the conception by the justice 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 : THE DEVIL'S LAW CASE; OR, WHEN WOMEN GO TO LAW, THE DEVIL IS FULL OF BUSINESS. A TRAGI-COMEDY, BY JOHN WEBSTER. CONTARINO challenges ERCOLE to fight with him for the possession of Con. Sir; my love to you has proclaim'd you one, To the world's eye shown like friends. Con. You are false To the good thought I held of you; and now, Erc. Compare her beauty and my youth together, No miracle at all. Con. Yes, it will prove Prodigious to you: I must stay your voyage. Erc. Your warrant must be mighty. Con. 'Tis a seal From heaven to do it, since you'd ravish from me Ι By the essential front of spotless virtue, By practice that had given you now for dead You must fight with me. Erc. I will, sir. Con. And instantly. Erc. I will haste before you. Point whither. Con. Why, you speak nobly; and, for this fair dealing, I would be well content to give you half: From being the other's Erc. Yet, methinks, enemy. This looks not like a quarrel. Con. Not a quarrel! Erc. You have not apparelled your fury well; Con. It is an ornament, you, Makes it more terrible; and you shall find it, Erc. You promise well to yourself. Shall's have no seconds? Con. None, for fear of prevention. So whether our time calls us to live or die, Erc. For that, let me embrace you. Con. Methinks, being an Italian, I trust you But your jealousy gave that embrace, to try Erc. No, believe me. I take your heart to be sufficient proof I am arm'd with. Con. You deal equally1. 1 I have selected this scene as the model of a well-managed and gen tlemanlike difference. Sitting for a Picture, Must you have my picture? You will enjoin me to a strange punishment. It has not been the same: I have known others Honourable Employment. O, my lord, lie not idle: The chiefest action for a man of great spirit Which has so many rare and curious pieces Of mathematical motion, to stand still. Virtue is ever sowing of her seeds: In the trenches for the soldier; in the wakeful study For the scholar; in the furrows of the sea For men of our profession: of all which Arise and spring up honour. Selling of Land. I could wish That noblemen would ever live in the country, |