There's my Lady.
_Viol_.
Leave us.
_Jam_.
You sent for me?
_Viol_.
I did, and do's the favour, Your present state considered and my power, Deserve no greater Ceremony?
_Jam_.
Ceremonie?
I use to pay that where I owe a duty, Not to my Brothers wife: I cannot fawn, If you expect it from me, you are cozen'd, And so farewel.
_Viol_.
He bears up still; I like it.
Pray you a word.
_Jam_.
Yes, I will give you hearing On equal terms, and sit by you as a friend, But not stand as a Sutor: Now your pleasure?
_Viol_.
You are very bold.
_Jam_.
'Tis fit: since you are proud, I was not made to feed that foolish humour, With flattery and observance.
_Viol_.
Yet, with your favour, A little form joyn'd with respect to her, That can add to your wants, or free you from 'em (Nay raise you to a fate, beyond your hopes) Might well become your wisdom.
_Jam_.
It would rather Write me a Fool, should I but only think That any good to me could flow from you, Whom for so many years I have found and prov'd My greatest Enemy: I am still the same, My wants have not transform'd me: I dare tell you, To your new cerus'd face, what I have spoken Freely behind your back, what I think of you, You are the proudest thing, and have the least Reason to be so that I ever read of.
In stature you are a Giantess: and your Tailor Takes measure of you with a Jacobs Staff, Or he can never reach you, this by the way For your large size: now, in a word or two, To treat of your Complexion were decorum: You are so far from fair, I doubt your Mother Was too familiar with the _Moor_ that serv'd her, Your Limbs and Features I pass briefly over, As things not worth description; and come roundly To your Soul, if you have any; for 'tis doubtful.
_Viol_. I laugh at this, proceed.
_Jam_.
This Soul I speak of, Or rather Salt to keep this heap of flesh From being a walking stench, like a large Inn, Stands open for the entertainment of All impious practices: but there's no Corner An honest thought can take up: and as it were not Sufficient in your self to comprehend All wicked plots, you have taught the Fool, my Brother, By your contagion, almost to put off The nature of the man, and turn'd him Devil, Because he should be like you, and I hope Will march to Hell together: I have spoken, And if the Limning you in your true Colours Can make the Painter gracious, I stand ready For my reward, or if my words distaste you, I weigh it not, for though your Grooms were ready To cut my Throat for't, be assur'd I cannot Use other Language.
_Viol_.
You think you have said now, Like a brave fellow: in this Womans War You ever have been train'd: spoke big, but suffer'd Like a tame Ass; and when most spur'd and gall'd Were never Master of the Spleen or Spirit, That could raise up the anger of a man, And force it into action.
_Jam_.
Yes, vile Creature, Wer't thou a subject worthy of my Sword, Or that thy death, this moment, could call home My banish'd hopes, thou now wer't dead; dead, woman; But being as thou art, it is sufficient I scorn thee, and contemn thee.
_Viol_.
This shews nobly, I must confess it: I am taken with it, For had you kneel'd and whin'd and shew'd a base And low dejected mind, I had despis'd you.
This bravery (in your adverse fortune) conquers And do's command me, and upon the suddain I feel a kind of pity, growing in me, For your misfortunes, pity some say's the Parent, Of future love, and I repent my part So far in what you have suffered, that I could (But you are cold) do something to repair What your base Brother (such _Jamie_ I think him) Hath brought to ruine.
_Jam_.
Ha?
_Viol_.
Be not amaz'd, Our injuries are equal in his Bastard, You are familiar with what I groan for, And though the name of Husband holds a tye Beyond a Brother, I, a poor weak Woman, Am sensible, and tender of a wrong, And to revenge it would break through all lets, That durst oppose me.
_Jam_.
Is it possible?
_Viol_.
By this kiss: start not: thus much, as a stranger You may take from me; but, if you were pleas'd, I should select you as a bosom friend, I would print 'em thus, and thus.
_Jam_.
Keep off.
_Viol_.
Come near, Near into the Cabinet of my Counsels: Simplicity and patience dwell with Fools, And let them bear those burthens, which wise men Boldly shake off; be mine and joyn with me, And when that I have rais'd you to a fortune, (Do not deny your self the happy means) You'll look on me with more judicious eyes And swear I am most fair.
_Jam_.
What would this Woman?
The purpose of these words? speak not in riddles, And when I understand, what you would counsel, My answer shall be suddain.
_Viol_.
Thus then _Jamie_, The objects of our fury are the same, For young _Ascanio_, whom you Snake-like hug'd (Frozen with wants to death) in your warm bosom, Lives to supplant you in your certain hopes, And kills in me all comfort.
_Jam_.
Now 'tis plain, I apprehend you: and were he remov'd--