Vin. Most right, i'faith.

Moth. I owe your cheek my hand

For that presumption now, but I'll forget it;
Come, you shall leave those childish 'haviours,
Fortunes flow to you,

And understand your time.

What will you be a girl?

If all fear'd drowning that spy waves ashore,

Gold would grow rich, and all the merchants poor.

Cast. It is a pretty saying of a wicked one, but methinks now

It does not show so well out of your mouth,

Better in his.

Vin. Faith, bad enough in both,
Were I in earnest, as I'll seem no less.
I wonder, lady, your own mother's words
Cannot be taken, nor stand in full force.

'Tis honesty you urge; what's honesty?

[aside.

'Tis but heaven's beggar; and what woman is so foolish to

keep honesty,

And be not able to keep herself? no,

Times are grown wiser, and will keep less charge.

A maid that has small portion now intends

To break up house, and live upon her friends;

How blest are you! you have happiness alone;
Others must fall to thousands, you to one,

Sufficient in himself to make

your forehead

Dazzle the world with jewels; and petitionary people

Start at your presence.

Moth. Oh, if I were young, I should be ravish'd.

Cast. Ay, to lose

your honour!

Vin. O think upon the pleasure of the palace!

Secured ease and state! the stirring meats,

Ready to move out of the dishes, that e'en now quicken when they're eaten !

Banquets abroad by torch-light! musick! sports!
Bare-headed vassals, that had ne'er the fortune
To keep on their own hats, but let horns wear 'em!
Nine coaches waiting-hurry, hurry, hurry—
Cast. Ay, to the devil.

Vin. Ay, to the devil! to th' duke, by my faith.

Moth. Ay, to the duke: daughter, you'd scorn to think o'the devil, and you were there once.

Vin. True, for most there are as proud as he for his heart,

i'faith.

Who'd sit at home in a neglected room,

Dealing her short-liv'd beauty to the pictures,
That are as useless as old men, when those
Poorer in face and fortune than herself,
Walk with a hundred acres on their backs,
Fair meadows cut into green fore-parts ?—oh!
It was the greatest blessing ever happen'd to women,
When farmers' sons agreed, and met again,
To wash their hands, and come up gentlemen!
The common-wealth has flourish'd ever since:

Lands that were mete by the rod, that labour's spar'd,
Tailors ride down, and measure 'em by the yard;
Fair trees, those comely fore-tops of the field,
Are cut to maintain head-tires-much untold-
All thrives but chastity, she lies a-cold.

Nay, shall I come nearer to you? mark but this:

[aside.

Why are there so few honest women, but because 'tis the poorer profession that's accounted best, that's best follow'd; least in trade, least in fashion; and that's not honesty, believe it; and do but note the low and dejected price of it:

Lose but a pearl, we search and cannot brook it:

But that once gone, who is so mad to look it?

Moth. Troth he says true.

Cast. False, I defy you both:

I have endur'd you with an ear of fire;

Your tongues have struck hot irons on my face.
Mother, come from that poisonous woman there.
Moth. Where?

Cast. Do you not see her? she's too inward then :
Slave, perish in thy office: you heavens please,
Henceforth to make the mother a disease,
Which first begins with me, yet I've outgone you.
Vin. O angels, clap your wings upon the skies,

And give this virgin crystal plaudities!

Moth. Peevish, coy, foolish!-but return this answer,
My lord shall be most welcome, when his pleasure
Conducts him this way; I will sway mine own,

Women with women can work best alone.

Vin. Indeed I'll tell him so.

O more uncivil, more unnatural,

Than those base-titled creatures that look downward.

[exit.

[exit.

Why does not heaven turn black, or with a frown
Undo the world?—why does not earth start up,
And strike the sins that tread upon't?-oh,

Wer't not for gold and women, there would be no damnation.
Hell would look like a lord's great kitchen, without fire in't.
But 'twas decreed before the world began,

That they should be the hooks to catch at man.

[exit.

Enter Vindici and Hippolito, bringing out their mother, with daggers

in their hands.

Vin. O thou, for whom no name is bad enough!

Moth. What mean my sons? what, will you murder me?

Vin. Wicked unnatural parent!

Hip. Fiend of women!

Moth. Oh! are sons turned monsters? help!

Vin. In vain.

Moth. Are you so barbarous as 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?
Vin. Thou dost usurp that title now by fraud,

For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd.

Moth. A bawd? O name far loathsomer than hell!

Hip. It should be so, knew'st thou thy office well.
Moth. I hate it.

Vin. Ah! is't possible, you powers on high,
That women should dissemble when they die!
Moth. Dissemble?

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?
Made thee uncivilly forget thyself,

And work our sister to his lust?

Moth. Who I?

That had been monstrous. I defy that man

For any such intent! none lives so pure,

But shall be soil'd with slander ;-good son, believe it not.

Vin. Oh, I'm in doubt,

Whether I'm myself, or no—

Stay, let me look again upon this face.

Who shall be sav'd, when mothers have no grace?

[resumes his disguise.

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 !

Vin. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke's son,

Tri'd you, and found you were base metal,

As

any villain might have done.

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!
Hip. True, brother; how far beyond nature 'tis,
Tho' many mothers do't!

Vin. Nay, and you draw tears once, go you to bed;
Wet will make iron blush and change to red.
Brother, it rains, 'twill spoil your dagger, house it.
Hip. 'Tis done.

Vin. I'faith, tis a sweet shower, it does much good.
The fruitful grounds and meadows of her soul,
Have been long dry: pour down, thou blessed dew.
Rise, mother; troth this show'r has made you higher.
Moth. O you heavens! take this infectious spot out of
my soul,

I'll rince it in seven waters of mine eyes !

Make

my tears salt enough to taste of
is to our sex naturally given:

To weep,

grace.

But to weep truly, that's a gift from heaven.

Vin. Nay, I'll kiss you now. Kiss her, brother :

Let's marry her to our souls, wherein's no lust,
And honourably love her.

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

That office would have cling'd unto your forehead!
All mothers that had any graceful hue,

Would have worn masks to hide their face at you:
It would have grown to this, at your foul name,
Green-colour'd maids would have turn'd red with shame.
Hip. And then our sister, full of hire and baseness-

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!
Hip. To be great, miserable; to be rich, eternally wretched.
Vin. O common madness!

Ask but the thriving'st harlot in cold blood,
She'd give the world to make her honour good.
Perhaps you'll say, but only to the duke's son
In private; why she first begins with one,
Who afterward to thousand proves a whore :
'Break ice in one place, it will crack in more.'
Moth. Most certainly apply'd!

Hip. Oh, brother, you forget our business.
Vin. And well remember'd; joy's a subtil elf,
I think man's happiest when he forgets himself.
Farewell, once dry, now holy-water'd mead;
Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead.

Moth. I'll give you this, that one I never knew,
Plead better for, and 'gainst the devil, than you.
Vin. You make me proud on't.

Hip. Commend us in all virtue to our sister.

Vin. Ay, for the love of heaven, to that true maid.
Moth. With my best words.

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;
And put myself to common usury.

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.

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?

You shall not wish me to be more lascivious

Than I intend to be.