1 Castiza seems to consent to her Mother's wicked motion. 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; Cast. Hope you I will not? That's not the hope you look to be saved 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? 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 To be a cursed woman! when you knew 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 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 "appall" even those that are "free." My words prevail'd, when they were wickedness, 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 poi son 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, They are sure to be old beggars. 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; A virgin's honor 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. 03 Evil 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 corps Oh 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 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 Jolenta, whom they both love. Con. Sir; my love to you has proclaim'd you one, Con. You are false To the good thought I held of you; and now, That you should love her. Erc. Compare her beauty and my youth together, And you will find the fair effects of love No miracle at all. Con. Yes, it will prove Prodigious to you: I must stay your voyage. Con. Tis a seal From heaven to do it, since you'd ravish from me Like an Italian, to cut your throat By practice that had giv'n 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, Were the rich jewel (which we vary for) A thing to be divided, by my life, I would be well content to give you half: But since 'tis vain to think we can be friends, Erc. Yet, methinks, This looks not like a quarrel. It Con. Not a quarrel! Erc. You have not apparelled your fury well; goes too plain, like a scholar. Con. It is an ornament, Makes it more terrible; and you shall find it, By discreet valour; because I do not strike you, 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, And true Italians. Erc. For that, let me embrace you. Con. Methinks, being an Italian, I trust you To come somewhat too near me : But |