_Ven._ O nimble in damnation, quick in tune! There is no devil could strike fire so soon: I am confuted in a word. _Gra._ O sons, forgive me! to myself I'll prove more true; You that should honour me, I kneel to you. [_Kneels and weeps._ _Ven._ A mother to give aim to her own daughter![227] _Hip._ True, brother; how far beyond nature 'tis. _Ven._ Nay, an you draw tears once, go you to bed; We will make iron blush and change to red. Brother, it rains. 'Twill spoil your dagger: house it. _Hip._ 'Tis done. _Ven._ 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 shower has made you higher! _Gra._ O you Heavens! take this infectious spot out of my soul, I'll rinse it in seven waters of mine eyes! Make my tears salt enough to taste of grace. To weep is to our sex naturally given: But to weep truly, that's a gift from Heaven. _Ven._ 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. _Ven._ 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 clinged 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-coloured maids would have turned red with shame. _Hip._ And then our sister, full of hire and baseness-- _Ven._ 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' the dirt! _Hip._ Great, to be miserably great; rich, to be eternally wretched. _Ven._ O common madness! Ask but the thrivingest 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 thousands prove a whore: "Break ice in one place, it will crack in more." _Gra._ Most certainly applied! _Hip._ O brother, you forget our business. _Ven._ And well-remembered; joy's a subtle elf, I think man's happiest when he forgets himself. Farewell, once dry, now holy-watered mead; Our hearts wear feathers, that before wore lead. _Gra._ I'll give you this--that one I never knew Plead better for and 'gainst the devil than you. _Ven._ You make me proud on't. _Hip._ Commend us in all virtue to our sister. _Ven._ Ay, for the love of Heaven, to that true maid. _Gra._ With my best words. _Ven._ Why, that was motherly said.[228] [_Exeunt_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO.