Vin. I was the man; Defy me now, let's see, do't modestly. Moth. O hell unto my soul ! Vin. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son, Tri'd you, and found you were base metal, Moth. O no, no tongue but yours could have bewitch'd me so. Vin. O nimble in damnation, quick in turn! There is no devil could strike fire. so soon: I am confuted in a word. Moth. Oh sons, forgive me! to myself I'll prove more true; You that should honour me, I kneel to you. 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. I'll rince it in seven waters of mine eyes! Make my tears salt enough to taste of grace. To weep, is to our sex naturally given : But to weep truly, that's a gift from heaven. Vin. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother: Hip. Let it be. Vin. For honest women are so seld and rare, "Tis good to cherish those poor few that are. O you of easy wax! do but imagine Now the disease has left you, how leprously All mothers that had any graceful hue, Would have worn masks to hide their face at you : Vin. There had been boiling lead again, 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 i'th'dirt! Ask but the thriving'st harlot in cold blood, Hip. Oh, 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. Moth. I wonder now what fury did transport me! I feel good thoughts begin to settle in me. Oh with what forehead can I look on her, Whose honour I've so impiously beset? And here she comes. [exeunt. [enter Castiza. 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 sav'd in. 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? Than I intend to be. Moth. Strike not me cold. Cast. How often have you charg'd me on your blessing To be a cursed woman? When you knew Your blessing had no force to make me lewd, You laid your curse upon me; that did more, The mother's curse is heavy; where that fights, Sons set in storm, and daughters lose their lights. Moth. Good child, dear maid, if there be any spark Of heavenly intellectual fire within thee, oh 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, In three hours' reading, to untwist so much 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 poisonme! What will the deed do then? Advancement, true; as high as shame can pitch! For treasure; who e'er knew a harlot rich? Or could build by the purchase of her sin, An hospital to keep her bastards in? The duke's son; old beggars; To know the miseries most harlots taste, Thoud'st wish thyself unborn, when thou'rt unchaste. Cast. O mother, let me twine about your neck, soul melt on your lips; I did but this to try you. Moth. O speak truth ! Cast. Indeed I did not; for no tongue has force to alter me from honest. If maidens would, men's words could have no power; Which, being weak, is guarded with good spirits; This is Vindici's address to the skull of Gloriana. "Thou sallow picture of my poison'd love, When two heaven-pointed diamonds were set Of any woman's bought complexion, That the uprightest man, (if such there be, And made up eight with looking after her. And what his father fifty years had told, To have consum'd, and yet his suit been cold." The revenge which slowly but effectually falls on the head of the Duke, is of the most elaborate and refined kind.-Whilst Vindici is attending upon Lussurioso in disguise, he is employed by the Duke to introduce him to a lady. Vindici promises, and appoints the place of meeting, where he is prepared with the skull of the poisoned Gloriana, dressed in seeming like a woman. The Duke, with court gallantry, salutes her, and recoils with horror, but not before he had imbibed the poison which Vindici had spread around its bony mouth. There is another adjunct to the death-scene of this hoary sinner, which it is not necessary to mention. Vindici reads a fine lecture on mortality, on this" dome of thought, the palace of the soul." "Here's an eye, Able to tempt a great man——to serve God : A pretty hanging lip, that has forgot now to dissemble. A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em whistle : Hip. Brother, you've spoke that right: And now methinks I cou'd e'en chide myself, And put his life between the judge's lips, Surely we're all mad people, and they Whom we think are, are not: we mistake those; Camphire her face for this? and grieve her maker And unclean brothels: sure 'twould fright the sinner, Out of his antic amble, And cloy an epicure with empty dishes. Here might a scornful and ambitious woman The Atheist's Tragedy possesses no scene of equal interest with those we have before quoted, nor indeed any scene of impassioned interest,-its value is in its insulated beauties, and they are not very thickly sown. Although the date of its being printed is posterior to the Revenger's Tragedy, it was probably his earliest effort.-The style is more measured and stately, and less natural than that of the latter. We shall proceed to narrate the incidents in the Atheist's Tragedy, interspersing them with such extracts as are worth transplanting. D'Amville, (the atheist) in order to further his design of obtaining possession of his brother Montferrers' estate, for which he has an unhallowed affection, persuades his nephew Charlemont to go to the wars, and furnishes |