_Ven._ O, fie, fie! that's the wrong end my lord. 'Tis mere impossible that a mother, by any gifts, should become a bawd to her own daughter! _Lus._ Nay, then, I see thou'rt but a puisne[195] In the subtle mystery of a woman. Why, 'tis held now no dainty dish: the name Is so in league with the age, that nowadays It does eclipse three quarters of a mother. _Ven._ Does it so, my lord? Let me alone, then, to eclipse the fourth. _Lus._ Why, well-said--come, I'll furnish thee, but first Swear to be true in all. _Ven._ True! _Lus._ Nay, but swear. _Ven._ Swear?--I hope your honour little doubts my faith. _Lus._ Yet, for my humour's sake, 'cause I love swearing-- _Ven._ 'Cause you love swearing,--'slud,[196] I will. _Lus._ Why, enough! Ere long look to be made of better stuff. _Ven._ That will do well indeed, my lord. _Lus._ Attend me. [_Exit._ _Ven._ O! Now let me burst. I've eaten noble poison; We are made strange fellows, brother, innocent villains! Wilt not be angry, when thou hear'st on't, think'st thou? I' faith, thou shalt: swear me to foul my sister! Sword, I durst make a promise of him to thee; Thou shalt disheir him; it shall be thine honour. And yet, now angry froth is down in me, It would not prove the meanest policy, In this disguise, to try the faith of both. Another might have had the selfsame office; Some slave that would have wrought effectually, Ay, and perhaps o'erwrought 'em; therefore I, Being thought travelled, will apply myself Unto the selfsame form, forget my nature, As if no part about me were kin to 'em, So touch 'em;--though I durst almost for good Venture my lands in Heaven upon their blood. [_Exit._ SCENE IV.--_A Room in_ ANTONIO'S _House._ _Enter_ ANTONIO, _whose_ Wife _the_ Duchess' Youngest Son _ravished, discovering her dead body to_ HIPPOLITO, PIERO, _and_ Lords. _Ant._ Draw nearer, lords, and be sad witnesses Of a fair comely building newly fallen, Being falsely undermined. Violent rape Has played a glorious act: behold, my lords, A sight that strikes man out of me. _Piero._ That virtuous lady! _Ant._ Precedent for wives! _Hip._ The blush of many women, whose chaste presence Would e'en call shame up to their cheeks, and make Pale wanton sinners have good colours-- _Ant._ Dead! Her honour first drank poison, and her life, Being fellows in one house, did pledge her honour. _Piero._ O, grief of many! _Ant._ I marked not this before-- A prayer-book, the pillow to her cheek: This was her rich confection; and another Placed in her right hand, with a leaf tucked up, Pointing to these words;-- _Melius virtute mori, quam per dedecus vivere:_ True and effectual it is indeed.