_Enter_ Don Henrique, Violante, Ascanio.
_H[en]_.
Hear but my reasons.
_Viol_.
O my patience, hear 'em!
Can cunning falshood colour an excuse With any seeming shape of borrowed truth?
Extenuate this wofull wrong, not error?
_Hen_.
You gave consent that, to defeat my brother I should take any course.
_Vio_.
But not to make The cure more loathsom than the foul disease: Was't not enough you took me to your bed, Tir'd with loose dalliance, and with emptie veins, All those abilities spent before and wasted, That could confer the name of mother on me?
But that (to perfect my account of sorrow For my long barr[en]ness) you must heighten it By shewing to my face, that you were fruitfull Hug'd in the base embraces of another?
If Solitude that dwelt beneath my roof, And want of children was a torment to me, What end of my vexation to behold A bastard to upbraid me with my wants?
And hear the name of father paid to ye, Yet know my self no mother, What can I say?
_Hen_.
Shall I confess my fault and ask your pardon?
Will that content ye?
_Vio_.
If it could make void, What is confirm'd in Court: no, no, _Don Henrique_, You shall know that I find my self abus'd, And adde to that, I have a womans anger, And while I look upon this Basilisk, Whose envious eyes have blasted all my comforts Rest confident I'le study my dark ends, And not your pleasures.
_Asc_.
Noble Lady, hear me, Not as my Fathers son, but as your servant, Vouchsafe to hear me, for such in my duty, I ever will appear: and far be it from My poor ambition, ever to look on you, But with that reverence, which a slave stands bound To pay a worthy Mistris: I have heard That Dames of highest place, nay Queens themselves Disdain not to be serv'd by such as are Of meanest Birth: and I shall be most happie, To be emploi'd when you please to command me Even in the coursest office, as your Page, I can wait on your trencher, fill your wine, Carry your pantofles, and be sometimes bless'd In all humilitie to touch your feet: Or if that you esteem that too much grace, I can run by your Coach: observe your looks, And hope to gain a fortune by my service, With your good favour, which now, as a Son, I dare not challenge.
_Vio_.
As a Son?
_Asc_.
Forgive me, I will forget the name, let it be death For me to call you Mother.
_Vio_.
Still upbraided?
_Hen_. No way left to appease you?
_Vio_.
None: now hear me: Hear what I vow before the face of Heaven, And if I break it, all plagues in this life, And those that after death are fear'd fall, on me, While that this Bastard staies under my roof, Look for no peace at home, for I renounce All Offices of a wife.
_Hen_.
What am I faln to?
_Vio_.
I will not eat, nor sleep with you, and those hours, Which I should spend in prayers for your health, Shall be emploi'd in Curses.
_Hen_.
Terrible.
_Vio_.
All the day long, I'le be as tedious to you As lingring fevers, and I'le watch the nights, To ring aloud your shame, and break your sleeps.
Or if you do but slumber, I'le appear In the shape of all my wrongs, and like a fury Fright you to madness, and if all this fail To work out my revenge, I have friends and kinsmen, That will not sit down tame with the disgrace That's offer'd to our noble familie In what I suffer.
_Hen_.
How am I divided Between the duties I owe as a Husband, And pietie of a Parent?
_Asc_.
I am taught Sir By the instinct of nature that obedience Which bids me to prefer your peace of mind, Before those pleasures that are dearest to me, Be wholly hers (my Lord) I quit all parts, That I may challenge: may you grow old together, And no distaste e're find you, and before The Characters of age are printed on you May you see many Images of your selves, Though I, like some false glass, that's never look'd in, Am cast aside, and broken; from this hour (Unless invited, which I dare not hope for) I never will set my forbidden feet Over your threshold: only give me leave Though cast off to the world to mention you In my devotions, 'tis all I sue for And so I take my last leave.
_Hen_.
Though I am Devoted to a wife, nay almost sold A slave to serve her pleasures, yet I cannot So part with all humanity, but I must Shew something of a Father: thou shalt not goe Unfurnish'd and unfriended too: take that To guard thee from necessities; may thy goodness Meet many favours, and thine innocence Deserve to be the heir of greater fortunes, Than thou wer't born to. Scorn me not _Violante_, This banishment is a kind of civil death, And now, as it were at his funeral To shed a tear or two, is not unmanly, And so farewel for ever: one word more, Though I must never see thee (my _Ascanio_) When this is spent (for so the Judge decreed) Send to me for supply: are you pleas'd now?
_Vio_.
Yes: I have cause: to see you howl and blubber At the parting of my torment, and your shame.
'Tis well: proceed: supply his wants: doe doe: Let the great dower I brought serve to maintain Your Bastards riots: send my Clothes and Jewels, To your old acquaintance, your dear dame his Mother.
Now you begin to melt, I know 'twill follow.
_Hen_.
Is all I doe misconstru'd?
_Viol_.
I will take A course to right my self, a speeding one: By the bless'd Saints, I will; if I prove cruel, The shame to see thy foolish pity, taught me To lose my natural softness, keep off from me, Thy flatteries are infectious, and I'le flee thee As I would doe a Leper.
_Hen_.