CAS. Hope you I will not? That's not the hope you look to be sav'd in. GRA. Truth, but it is. CAS. 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. GRA. Strike not me cold. CAS. 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, You laid your curse upon me; that did more, The mother's curse is heavy; where that lights, Suns set in storm, and daughters lose their rights.[102] GRA. Good child, dear maid, if there be any spark Of heavenly intellectual fire within thee, 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, Make me not sick in health! If then My words prevail'd, when they were wickedness, How much more now, when they are just and good? CAS. I wonder what you mean! are not you she, For whose infect persuasions I could scarce Kneel out my prayers, and had much ado In three hours' reading to untwist so much Of the black serpent as you wound about me? GRA. 'Tis unfruitful, child,[103] [and] tedious to repeat What's past; I'm now your present mother. CAS. Pish! now 'tis too late. GRA. Bethink again: thou know'st not what thou say'st. CAS. No! deny advancement! treasure! the duke's son! GRA. O, cease![104] I spoke those words, and now they poison me! What will the deed do then? Advancement? true; as high as shame can pitch! For treasure! who e'er knew a harlot rich? Or could build by the purchase of her sin An hospital to keep her[105] bastards in? The duke's son! O, 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 art unchaste. CAS. 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. GRA. O, speak truth! CAS. Indeed I did but;[106] for no tongue has force To alter me from honest. If maidens would, men's words could have no power; A virgin's honour is a crystal tower Which (being weak) is guarded with good spirits; Until she basely yields, no ill inherits. GRA. O happy child! faith, and thy birth hath sav'd me. 'Mong thousand daughters, happiest of all others: Be[107] thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO. VEN. So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him not, brother. HIP. I warrant you my life for yours.