A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. II - Various
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_Tho_. Sir, your rage
Cannot inforce a recantacion from me:
I doe pronounce her light as is a leafe
In withered Autumne shaken from the trees
By the rude winds: noe specld serpent weares
More spotts than her pide honor.
_Bon_. So, no more:
Thy former words incenst me but to rage;
These to a fury which noe sea of teares,
Though shed by queenes or Orphants, shall extinguish;
Nay, should my mother rise from her cold urne
And weepe herself to death againe to save
Thee from perdition, 't should not; were there placd
Twixt thee and mee a host of blasing starrs,
Thus I would through them to thee! [_Draw.
Tho_. Had I knowne
Your passion would have vanquishd reason thus,
You should have met your ruine unadvisd;
Hugd your destruction; taken what the lust
Of other men had left you. But the name
And soule of friendship twixt us I had thought
Would have retain'd this most unmanly rage
Gainst me, for declaration of a truth
By which you might be ransomed from the armes
Of her adulterate honor.
_Bon_. Yes, kind foole;
Perswade an _Indian_ who has newly div'd
Into the ocean and obtaind a pearle,
To cast it back againe; labour t'induce
_Turkes_ to contemne their _Alcoron_ ere you strive
To make me creditt my _Belissia_ false. [_Kneele_.
Forgive me, holy love, that I delay
So long to scourge the more than heathnish wrongs
Of this iniurious villaine, whome me thinks--
Blow him hence to hell
With his contagious slander! yet before
Thou doest fall by me as, if heaven have not
Lost all its care of Innocence, thou must doe,
Tell me what Divell urgd thee to detract
From virtue thus, for of thy selfe thou couldst not
(Unlesse with thee shee hath bin vicious) know it
Without some information: whoes the Author
Of this prodigious calumnie?
_Tho_. Her mother.
_Bon_. Ha! her mother?
_Tho_. Yes, she; that certaine Oracle of truth,
That pretious mine of honor, which before
She would exhaust, or yeild your innocence
A spoyle to vice, chose rather to declare
Her daughter's folly; and with powerfull teares
Besought me, by the love I bore to goodnes,
Which in her estimation had a roome
Higher than Nature, to reveale it to you
And disingage you from her.
Bon. Soe, rest there, [_Put up_.
Ere thou beest drawne were the whole sex reduced
To one, left only to preserve earths store,
In the defence of women; who,[67] but that
The mothers virtues stands betweene heavens Justice
Would for the daughters unexampled sinne
Be by some soddaine Judgment swept from earth
As creatures too infectious. Gentle freind,
An humor, heavy as my soule was steep'd
In _Lethe_, seases on me and I feare
My passion will inforce me to transgresse
Manhood; I would not have thee see me weepe;
I prethee leave mee, solitude will suite
Best with my anguish. [_Sitt downe.
Tho_. Your good Genius keepe you. [_Exit_.
[_Enter Belisea_.]
_Bel_. Why have you staid thus long?
Young _Crackby_ and his friend are newly up
And have bin with us. My sister has had
The modest bout with them: 'tis such a wench.
Are you a sleepe? why doe you not looke up?
What muse you on?
_Bon_. Faith, I was thinking where
In the whole world to find an honest woman.
_Bel_. An excellent meditation! What doe you take me for, my Mother
and my Sister?
_Bon_. You alway excepted; tis but melancholly;
Prethee bestow a kisse upon me, love;
Perchance that will expell it.
_Bel_. If your cure be wrought soe easily, pittie you should perish
for want of physick. [_Kiss him_.
_Bon_. She kisses as sheed wont; were she unchast,
Surely her breath would like a _Stigian_ mist
Or some contagious vapor blast me; but
'Tis sweet as _Indian_ balme, and from her lips
Distills[68] a moisture pretious as the Dew
The amorous bounty of the wholesome morne
Throwes on rose buds; her cheeks are fresh and pure
As the chast ayre that circumscribes them, yet
Theres that within her renders her as foule
As the deformed'st _Ethiope_.
_Bel_. Whats the matter?
Why do you staire so on me?
_Bon_. To admire
That such a goodly building as this same
Should have such vild stuff in itt.
_Bel_. What meanes this language?
_Bon_. Nothing, but only to informe you what
You know to well alreadie: _Belisia_, you are
--(I cannot call her whore)--a perjurd woman.
_Bel_. Defend me innocence! I scarce remember
That ever I made oath and therefore wonder
How I should breake on.
_Bon_. Have you not with imprecations beg'd
Heavens vengeance if you ere lovd man but me?
_Bel_. And those same heavens are vouchers[69]
I've kept my vowes with that strict purity
That I have done my honor.
_Bon_. I believe thee;
The divell sometimes speaks truth. Intemperate woman,
Thoust made that name a terme convertible
With fury, otherwise I should call thee soe,
How durst thou with this impudence abuse
My honest faith? did I appeare a guest
So infinitly worthles that you thought
The fragments of thy honour good enough
To sate my appetite, what other men
Had with unhallowd hands prophaind? O woman,
Once I had lockd in thy deceiving brest
A treasure wealthier then the _Indies_ both
Can in their glory boast, my faithfull heart,
Which I do justly ravish back from it
Since thou art turnd a strumpet.
_Bel_. Doe you thinke
I am what you have term'd me?
_Bon_. Doe I thinke
When I behold the wanton Sparrows change
Their chirps to billing, they are chast? or see
The Reeking Goate over the mountaine top
Pursue his Female, yet conceit him free
From wild concupiscence? I prithee tell me,
Does not the genius of thy honor dead
Haunt thee with apparitions like a goast
Of one thou'dst murdrd? dost not often come
To thy bed-side and like a fairy pinch
Thy prostituted limbs, then laughing tell thee
'Tis in revenge for myriads of black tortures
Thy lust inflicted on it?
_Bel_. Have you don?
Give me a little leave then ere my greife
Surround my reason. Witnes, gratious heaven,
Who, were you not offended at some sinn
I have unwittingly comitted, would
Send sacred innocence it selfe to pleade
How much 'tis iniurd in me, that with zeale
Above the love of mothers I have tendred
This misinformd man. Ile not aske the authors
Of this report, I doe forgive them; may
A happier fate direct you to some other
May love you better; and my fate conferr
On me with speed some sudden sepulcher. [_Exit_.
_Bon_. I shall grow childish, too; my passions strive
For my dead love to keepe my greife alive.
[_Exit_.
_Actus Secundus_.
(SCENE 1.)[70]
_Enter Sucket, Crackbie, Grimes_.
_Gr_. Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards!
_Suc_. Where? how, good _Grimes_?
_Gr_. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe
lecture us before my ladie for drinking ... at midnight, has gott the
key of the wine C[ellar from] _Timothie_ the Butler and is gon downe
to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.
_Enter Timothie_.
_Tim_. Gent[lemen], _Grimes_, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar]
when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is
retyringe with all exp[edition]. Close, close, and be not seene.
_Crac_. Oh, my fine steward!
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Alexander Lovell with a Bottle of Sacke and a Cup_.
_Lov_. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best. I am the Steward
and to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give ill
examples. Goe to, I, and goe to; tis good to be merry and wise; an inch
in quietness is better than an ell of sorrow. Goe to and goe to agen,
for I say and I sayt, there is no reason but that the parson may forget
that ere he was clerke[71]. My lady has got a cast of her eye since she
tooke a survey of my good parts. Goe to and goe to, for I say and I
sayt, they are signes of a rising; flesh is frayle and women are but
women, more then men but men. I am puft up like a bladder, sweld with
the wind[72] of love; for go to and go to, I say and I sayt, this love
is a greife, and greife a sorrowe, and sorrows dry. Therefore come
forth, thou bottle of affection[73]; I create thee my companion, and
thou, cup, shalt be my freind. Why, so now,--goe to and goe to: lets
have a health to our Mrss, and first to myne; sweet companion, fill to
my kind freind; by thy leave, freind, Ile begin to my companion: health
to my Mrs! Soe, now my hands in: companion, fill, and heres a health to
my freinds Mrs. Very good, and now I will conclude with yours, my deare
companion: stay, you shall pledge me presently, tis yet in a good hand;
I will pledge both your Mrss first. Goe to and go to,[74] freind; thou
alwayes lookst on me like a dry rascall; give him his liquor; and soe
with my Mrs I conclude. What say you, Companion? ha, do you compare
your Mrs with myne? howes that? such another word and thou darst,
Sirrah! off with your Capp and doe her Reverence! wilt tell me soe? goe
to, I say and I sayt; Ile make better languadge come out of that mouth
of thine, thou wicked Carkasse. Freind, heres to thee:[75] Ile shake
thee, thou empty Rascall, to peeces, and as _Hector_ drew _Achilles_
bout the walls of Troy at his horse tayle, so shalt thou at a doggs
tayle be dragd in vild disgrace throughout the towne. Goe to and goe to,
I say and I sayt; Ile have the dragd, sirr, ah I[le] have the dragd;
perswade me not, good friend; let him yeild me a reason[76] if he can.
I, I, he had need to be squeezd; why tis true, this is one, but not to
purpose. Oh, would you whisper with me? umh, umh, umh, away, Ile heare
no more: why, how now frend? ha, ha, ha, you have got a Cup to much;
umh, goe to and goe to, you can hold no more, I see that, at this time;
let me ene bring you to your chambers.
[_Flings away the bottle and sleeps_.
_Enter Timothy, Grimes, Sucket, Crackby, with flaggons of wine.
Suc_. 'Tis well don, cherish valour.
_Crac_. Creditt me, my Captaine carries fortitude enough for a whole
legion; twas his advice tooke in[77] the _Busse_[?], and at _Mastricht_
his courage did conclude _Papenhams_ overthrow.[78]
_Suc_. Pish, you to farr exemply[fy]. I have bin at some few skermishes,
kild halfe a score or soe; but what of yt? men are but men.
_Tim_. What wines that, fellow _Grimes_?
_Grimes_. Sack by this light, the Emperor of liquors! Captaine, here tis
well keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup of
this upon an onslaught, Captain?
_Suc_. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I am
engagd against a squadron or a whole company.
_Grimes_. He meanes of drunkards.
[_Lovell grunts_.
_Suc_. Ha! Cinielaro[?] an ambuscado! see, whos that lyes there
pardue[79]? fort of Mars! my wroth shall eate him up.
_Grimes_. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] dead
drunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; _Timothy_, hast thou
thy Salvatorie about thee.
_Tim_. Yes, heere, here.[81]
_Grimes_. Quick, quick; make some plasters and clapp em on his face:
here, bind this napkin about his hand; who has a garter, lets see, to
bind it up?
_Suc_. Some blood, my sonn of _Mercury_, were neceseary for consummation
of the jest.
_Crac_. And here, _Grimes_, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for some
blood!
_Grimes_. Here, I have prickt my finger.
_Tim_. Let you and I, Mr. _Crackby_, goe to buffitts for a bloody nose.
_Crac_. No, no, you shall pardon me for that, _Tim_[82]; no, no; no
boyes play.
_Suc_. So, so; now set him in the chaires. Hart of valour! he looks like
a Mapp oth world. Death, what are these?[83]
_Enter Musike_.
_Grimes_. The Town Waites whome I appointed to come and visitt us.
_Suc_. 'Twas well donn: have you ere a good song?
_Tim_. Yes, they have many.
_Suc_. But are they bawdy? come, sir, I see by your simpring it is you
that sings, but do not squeake like a _French_ Organ-pipe nor make faces
as if you were to sing a Dirge. Your fellowes may goe behind the arras:
I love to see Musitions in their postures imitate those ayrey soules
that grace our Cittie Theaters, though in their noats they come as short
of them as _Pan_ did of _Apollo_.
[_Musike_.
_Grimes_. Well, sir, this is indifferent Musicke, trust my judgment.
Sing, boy.
[_A song_.
_Crac_. Now on my life this boy does sing as like the boy[84] at the
_Whitefryers_ as ever I heard: how say you Captain?
_Suc_. I, and the Musicks like theires: come, Sirra, whoes your Poett?
_Crac_. Some mad wag, I warrant him: is this a new song?
_Mus_. Tis the first edition, sir: none else but we had ever coppie
of it.
_Suc_. But you wilbe intreated to let a gent have it?
_Mus_. By no meanes; the author has sworne to the contrary, least it
should grow so wonderous old and turne a Ballad.
_Crac_. Well said, Captain; the tother health, Captain: heres good wine,
good Tobackoe, good everything: had we but a good wench or two twere
excellent.
_Suc_. Great _Alexander_, does not dreame of this, I warrant yee.
_Grimes_. Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accounts
the easier when my lady calls him.
_Crac_. Come, come; who payes the Musicke? Captain, you have my purse.
_Suc_. Truths a truth from Infidell or Pagan: I am in trust, and that's
beleife, and so it shalbe saved. Pay the Musick? umh, where are they?
let me see, how many's of you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: good, can any of you
daunce?
_Mus_. Daunce? Yes, sir, we can shake our legs or soe.
_Suc_. So said so don, brave ladd; come, letts have a daunce, some
daunce and some play.
_Mus_. Anything to please you, noble Captaine.
_Suc_. Lively then, my hearts; some country Jigg or soe. Oh those playes
that I have seene of youre, with their Jiggs[85] ith tayles of them[86]
like your French forces! Death, I am a rorging (roaring?) boy; but,
come, stir your shanks nimbly or Ile hough ye. Strike up there!
[_Daunce_.
_Grimes_. Well don, my hearts; drinke, drinke.
_Suc_. Goe you in, Ile follow you.
_Om[nes]_. Come, Captaine.
_Suc_. Farewell, Steward.
_Mus_. Dee heare, Captaine?
_Suc_. With me, my fine treble knave? umh, thou dost tickle minikin
as nimbly--
_Mus_. We hope your worship will consider our paines?
_Suc_. How, my fine knave? letts see, who were the dauncers?
_Mus_. Come forward there! nay, I told you he was ever bountifull: oh,
good Captaine!
_Suc_. Let me see: I, thou art hart of vallor: thou didst daunce well,
thou deservest--, I say no more: and who played?
_Mus_. Wee.
_Suc_. You? well sayd; you plaid and you daunc'd, you say good; let me
see, halfe a peece or--
_Mus_. Blesse your Captaineship.
_Suc_. You plaid, you say, and you dauncd: umh, well, why then you that
dauncd must pay those that plaid.
_Mus_. How, sir, how?
_Suc_. Ever, ever, whilst you live, _Jarvice_;[87] the dauncers alwayes
payes the musike. Wilt breake custome? No, or there a pawne for you.
--Mr. Steward. Farewell. [_Exit_.
_Mus_. This is your bountifull Captaine! a rope of his bounsing! But
stay, lets play to the steward; it may be when he wakes we may worke
him to't.
_Omnes_. Content, content. [_Musike softe_.
_Lov_. Umh[88], play a healthe: soe; say, it shall goe rounde: goe to,
I say and I sayt, it shall goe round. Umh, where is this fidle? in the
ayre? I can perceave nothing. Where is my kinde friend and my fine
companion? come, we will be friends again; goe to, we will. Umh,
plaistered and bound up? bloody? how comes this? goe too and goe to; if
I have done any mischiefe or bene over valiant in my drinke to kill a
man or soe, why 'twas in my drinke, not I, and let my drinke be hangd
for't; or, I say and I sayt, let um stay till I am drunke againe and
then hange me; I care not, I shall not be sensible of it. Oh this sack!
it makes a coward a _Hector_: the _Greekes_ and _Troians_ drinke no
other; and that and a wench (for theres the divell out) made um cuffe
ten yeares together, till at length when they had bled more than they
coulde drinke they grew sober, the contented Cuckold tooke his wife home
againe and all were good frends[89]. [_Sease Musicke_] But stay, the
musikes husht; I hope theyle appeare; I doe feale no such paine in my
wounds that I had need of musicke to bring me to sleepe. Blesse me whose
this? ha[90]!
_Enter Grimes disguised_.
_Grimes_. How does your worshipp? Mr. Steward, dee feele your selfe at
ease? I am hartely sorry for your misfortune?
_Lov_. Misfortune? ha, what misfortune? now heaven and't be thy will--
_Grimes_. Pray heaven they be alive.
_Lov_. Ha, alive? in the name of drinke what have I don? where did you
find me, ha?
_Grimes_. Why, sir, comming out--umh, umh--
_Lov_. Out with't, man.
_Grimes_. Out of a bad-house, sir.
_Lov_. A Bawdie house, I warrant.
_Grimes_. Yes sir.
_Lov_. Why, now its out.
_Grimes_. I, and tis well your worships out.
_Lov_. Noe, noe, it had bin better had I never gon in; but on, on.
_Grimes_. You were, sir,--as they say, sir--you had gotten a Cup to
much.
_Lov_. Hang Cupps, my friend excepted; goe to; speake plaine; I was
drunke was I?
_Grimes_. Yes, sir; you were not able to stand when you came out, sir?
_Lov_. Out of the Bawdy-house? I beleave thee; nay, I am a right
_Lovell_ I, I look like a shotten herring now for't. _Jone's_ as good
as my lady in the darke wee me. I have no more Roe than a goose in me;
but on to the mischiefe, on.
_Grimes_. You beate the Bawd downe with the Chamber dore and bade her
keepe that for the Reckoning.
_Lov_. Umh, there was witt in my drinke, I perceive; on.
_Grimes_. Then, sir, you tooke up a Spitt.
_Lov_. A Spitt?
_Grimes_. Yes, sir, and broacht one of the wenches out.
_Lov_. How?
_Grimes_. Oh, sir, you made such a hole in her bakside[91] you might
have turnd--
[_Blows his nose_.
_Lov_. What? thy nose int?
_Grimes_. Had I been there it had been at your service.
_Lov_. Thanke thee; thou shouldst have lost nothing by it.
_Grimes_. Then went Tobackoe pipes to wrack, and oh the black potts
sufferd without measure; nay, you swore (and for it paid your twelve
pence) that if you were maior youd come disguisd on purpose to
confou[nd] 'um.
_Lov_. Ist possible I could doe this?
_Grimes_. This, sir? Why you kickd one flat-nosd wench that snuffled,
and swore she was a puritan.
_Lov_. Did not I pay for that oath too?
_Grimes_. No, sir; you bid the Constable keepe reckoning till it came to
a some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in your
hand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaring
Captain.
_Lov_. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune.
_Grimes_. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as in
suspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through his
heart.
_Lov_. Ha, through his heart? the Captaines dead then?
_Grimes_. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory of
his Mrs.
_Lov_. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thy
newes.
_Grimes_. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall
_Dutch_ man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and ere
we could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we brought
you home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here stayd
till your waking.
_Lov_. Yare honest fellowes; goe to and go to, I say and I sait agen,
yare honest fellowes and shall not be unrewarded: looke you, theres for
you--and be but sylent in't.
_Grimes_. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne away
the back of your satteen Doublet? the Canvas is seene.
_Lov_. Umh, no, but they have stolne my velvet Jerkin.
_Grimes_. I, and dam'd your Dublet.
_Lov_. Tis well; goe; thanks; goe, Ile see you shortly; you and your
Companie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I love
you and I thanke you,
_Grimes_. I thanke you, good Mr. Steward. [_Discovers_
_Lov_. Whoes this? _Grimes_?
_Grimes_. Even he that has thus begrimd yee, my fine drunken Steward. I
can cure you, toe; come, let me be your Surgion.
_Lov_. Thou shalt be my hangman first, Rascall.
_Grimes_. You wonnot murder? helpe Captain, Mr. _Crackby, Tim_!
_Enter Omnes_.
_Omnes_. How now! how now! what's the matter?
_Lov_. Whoop! hell broke loose! tis good to shun the Divell.
[_Exit_.
_Grimes_. Not if you meet him in the likenes of a bottle of Sack, good
Steward.[92]
_Tim_. Why this is excellent.
_Suc_. Grimes, let me hugg thee, thou sonn of witt.
_Grimes_. Nay, letts not leave him thus.
_Crac_. Leade on, weele follow.
[_Exeunt Omnes_.
_Finis Actus Secundi_.
_Actus Tertius_.
(SCENE 1.)
_Enter Sir Geffry and Lady_.
_Sir Geff_. But I beseech you, Madam; what greater accession[93] can you
wish then me for husband? I have it here thats sattisfaction for the
lustiest widdow twixt this and London. Say, will you love me? Ime in
hast and hate demurrs; if you refuse I must seeke out: I have a little
moysture and would be loth to hav't dride for want of exercise.--What
say you, lady?
_Lady_. Sir, for your love I thanke you; for your wealth
I want it not; but yet I doe not find
A disposicon in my selfe to marriage.
_Sir Geff_. That will not serve my turne; I am no knight
Who weares the spurr of honour without Rowells
To prick a woman forwards: I ride post
To Marriage and resolve at the next stage
To take my Inn up. You have here
Two beautifull young gallants to your daughters:
Since youle not be my wife yet be my mother;
Ile marry any of them, which you please,
And hood her with the bagg [badge?] of honor. Lady,
What say you to this motion.
_Lady_. My daughters wills are not in my command:
If you can purchase either of their hearts,
My free consent shall follow.
_Sir Geff_. Nay, then, they will fall out for me, Madam,
I am most fortunate in atcheiving virgins.
_Enter Bonville_.
Save you, sweet youth, the bewties of your Mrs.
Crowne your desires. Are you a suiter?
_Bon_. Madam, I have occasions of importance
Wishes a little privacy with you.
_Lady_. With me, sweet Mr. _Bonvill? Sir Geffrey_,
Pray you vouchsafe your absence; at more leasure
We shall discourse.
_Sir Geff_. With all my heart: Ile to the wenches.
[_Exit_.
_Bon_. Madam we are alone?
_Lady_. You did desire we should.
_Bon_. But are you sure none can oreheare us.
_Lady_. Unles we be to loud:
What mooves you to require this secresie?
_Bon_. I come to aske a question, which the winds;
If I could deafe them, should not heare for feare
Their repercussive Eccho should declare it
To all our infamies.
_Lady_. What ist, I pray you?
_Bon_. Your daughter whom I was a servant to,
--I must deliver it in the homeliest phrase--
Is she dishonest?
_Lady_. You urge a repetition, gentle sir,
Of a sad truth: she is.
_Bon_. It cannot be
In reason comprehensible a mother
Should for a stranger blurr her daughters fame,
Were it untruth. I am confirmd; this favor
Transcends requitall: if a man misled
By error gainst the diety, gross enough
For his damnation, owe a gratitude
To his converter, I am engag'd to you
For my delivery from her.
_Lady_. 'Twas no more
Then what my honor obligd me
And my respect to vertue, which in you
I should have murdred by my silence; but
I have not greife enough left to lament
The memory of her folly: I am growne
Barren of teares by weeping; but the spring
Is not yet quite exhausted. [_Weeps_.
_Bon_. Keepe your teares
Lest the full clouds, ambitious that their drops
Should mix with yours, unteeme their big wombd laps
And rayse a suddeine deluge. Gratious madam,
The oftner you reherse her losse the more
You intimate the gaine I have acquird
By your free bounty, which to me appeares
So farr transcending possibility
Of satisfaction that, unles you take
My selfe for payment, I can nere discharge
A debt so waytie.
_Lady_. Ist come to this?
You speake misteriously; explaine your meaning.
_Bon_. To consecrate, with that devotion
That holy Hermits immolate[94] theire prayers,
My selfe the adorer of your vertues.
_Lady_. Are you serious?
_Bon_. No scrupulous penitent, timerous that each thought
Should be a sinn, does to the priest lay ope
With halfe that verity his troubled soule
That I doe mine. I love you: in that word
Include all ceremony. No sooner had
Your information disingagd my heart
Of honoring your daughter, but amazd
At the immensnesse of the benefit
Your goodness had cast on me, I resolvd
This way to show my gratitude.
_Lady_. But dare you,
Knowing the daughter vicious, entertaine
Affection to the mother?
_Bon_. Dare I when
I have bin long opresd with a disease,
Wish pleasing health? theres vertue enough here
To excite beleife in _Moores_ that only women
Have heavenly soules.
_Lady_. This is admirable:
Did my intention tend to love, as soone
I should embrace your motion in that kind
As any others, wert but to afford
Some small lustracon for the wrong my daughter
Intended you; nay, to confesse my thought,
I feele a strong propension in my selfe
To yeild to you; but I am loath,[95]--your youth
Will quickly loath me.