SCENE II.
Enter Ingen, Maid, Lord Proudly, Brother like a woman: swords drawn.
Proudly. Give me my sister! I'll have her forth thy heart.
Ingen. No earthly lord can pull her out of that,
Till he have pluck'd my heart first out. My lord,
Were't not inhospitable, I could wrong you here
In my own house. I am so full of woe
For your lost sister, that by all my joys
Hoped for in her, my heart weeps tears of blood:
A whiter virgin and a worthier
Had ne'er creation; Leda's swan was black
To her virginity and immaculate thoughts.
Proudly. Where hast thou hid her? give her me again;
For, by the God of vengeance, be she lost,
The female hate shall spring betwixt our names
Shall never die, while one of either house
Survives: our children shall, at seven years old,
Strike knives in one another.
Ingen. Let hell gape
And take me quick, if I know where she is;
But am so charg'd with sorrow for her loss,
Being the cause of it (as no doubt I am),
That I had rather fall upon my sword
[Offering to kill himself.
Than breathe a minute longer.
Proudly. Thou shalt not need; I have a sword to bathe
In thy false blood, inhumane murderer.
Maid. Good sir, be pacified: I'll go, I'll run
Many a mile to find your sister out.
She never was so desperate of grace
By violence to rob herself of life,
And so her soul endanger. Comfort, sir;
She's but retired somewhere, on my life.
Ingen. Prythee, let me alone—
[To his brother.
Do I stand to defend that wretched life,
That is in doubt of hers? here, worthy lord,
Behold a breast fram'd of thy sister's love;
Hew it, for thou shalt strike but on a stock,
Since she is gone that was the cause it liv'd.
Proudly. Out, false dissembler! art not married?
Ingen. No; behold it is my younger brother dress'd;
[Plucks of his head-tire.
A man, no woman, that hath gull'd the world,
Intended for a happier event
Than this that follow'd, that she now is gone.
O fond experiments of simple man!
Fool to thy fate, since all thy project, meant
But mirth, is now converted unto death.
Maid. O, do not burst me, joy! that modesty
[Aside.
Would let me show myself to finish all!
Proudly. Nay, then thou hast my sister somewhere, villain!
'Tis plain now thou wilt steal thy marriage.
She is no match for thee, assure thyself.
If all the law in England or my friends
Can cross it, 't shall not be.
Ingen. Would 'twere so well,
And that I knew the lady to be safe!
Give me no ill-words. Sir, this boy and I
Will wander like two pilgrims till we find her.
If you do love her as you talk, do so:
The love or grief that is express'd in words,
Is slight and easy; 'tis but shallow woe
That makes a noise; deep'st waters stillest go.
I love her better than thy parents did,
Which is beyond a brother.
Proudly. Slave! thou liest.
Ingen. Zounds!
[About to strike.
Bro. Kill him!
Maid. O, hold! Sir, you dishonour much your brother
To counsel him 'gainst hospitality
To strike in his own house.
Ingen. You, lord insolent, I will fight with you:
Take this as a challenge, and set your time.
Proudly. To-morrow morning, Ingen;
'Tis that I covet, and provoke thee for.
Bro. Will you not strike him now?
Ingen. No; my good boy
Is both discreet and just in his advice.
Thy glories are to last but for a day:
Give me thy hand;
To-morrow morning thou shalt be no lord.
Proudly. To-morrow noon thou shalt not be at all.
Ingen. Pish! why should you think so? have not I arms,
A soul as bold as yours, a sword as true?
I do not think your honour in the field,
Without your lordship's liveries, will have odds.
Proudly. Farewell, and let's have no excuses, pray.
[Exit Proudly.
Ingen. I warrant you. Pray, say your prayers to-night,
And bring an[98] inkhorn w' ye, to set your hand to
A satisfactory recantation.
[Exit.
Maid. O wretched maid! whose sword can I pray for?
But by the other's loss I must find death.
O odious brother, if he kill my love!
O bloody love, if he should kill my brother!
Despair on both sides of my discontent
Tells me no safety rests but to prevent.
[Exit.