Val. You are grown a tyrant too
Upon so suffering, and so still a subject;
You have put upon me such a punishment,
That if your youth were honest it would blush at:
But you are a shame to nature, as to vertue.
Pull not my rage upon ye, 'tis so just,
It will give way to no respect; my life,
My innocent life, I dare maintain it Sir,
Like a wanton prodigal you have flung away,
Had I a thousand more I would allow 'em,
And be as careless of 'em as your will is;
But to deny those rights the Law hath given me,
The holy Law, and make her life the penance,
Is such a studied and unheard of malice,
No heart that is not hired from Hell dare think of;
To do it then too, when my hopes were high,
High as my Blood, all my desires upon me,
My free affections ready to embrace her,
Enter Cassandra.
And she mine own; do you smile at this? is't done well?
Is there not Heaven above you that sees all? [Exit Val.
Fred. Come hither Time, how does your noble Mistriss?
Cas. As a Gentlewoman may do in her case that's newly
married, Sir:
Sickly sometimes, and fond on't, like your Majesty.
Fred. She is breeding then?
Cas. She wants much of her colour,
And has her qualms as Ladies use to have, Sir,
And her disgusts.
Fred. And keeps her Chamber?
Cas. Yes Sir.
Fred. And eats good Broths and Jellies.