Mast. We know all, and admire all;
Go on, and do all still, and still be fortunate.
Daught. Had you done less, or lost this Noble anger,
You had been worthy then mens empty pities,
And not their wonders. Go on, and use your justice.
And use it still with that fell violence,
It first appeared to you; if you go less,
Or take a d[o]ting mercy to protection,
The honor of a Father I disclaim in you,
Call back all duty; and will be prouder of
Th' infamous and base name of a whore,
Than daughter to a great Duke and a coward.
Ses. Mine own sweet Martia, no: thou knowst my nature,
It cannot, must not be.
Daugh. I hope it shall not.
But why Sir do you keep alive still young Ascanio,
Prince of Rossana, King Ferrants most belov'd one,
You took two months agoe?
Why is not he flung overboard, or hang'd?
Ses. I'll tell thee girl:
It were a mercy in my nature now,
So soon to break the bed of his afflictions;
I am not so far reconcil'd yet to him,
To let him die that were a benefit.
Besides, I keep him as a bait and diet,
To draw on more, and nearer to the King,
I look each hour to hear of his Armados,
And a hot welcome they shall have.
Daugh. But hark you!
If you were oversway'd with odds—
Ses. I find you:
I would not yield; no girl, no hope of yielding,
Nor fling my self one hour into their mercies,
And give the tyrant hope to gain his kingdom.
No, I can sink wench, and make shift to die;
A thousand doors are open, I shall hit one.
I am no niggard of my life so it go nobly:
All waies are equal, and all hours; I care not.
Daugh. Now you speak like my father.
Mast. Noble General,
If by our means they inherit ought but bangs,
The mercy of the main yard light upon us.
No, we can sink too, Sir, and sink low enough,
To pose their cruelties, to follow us:
And he that thinks of life, if the world go that way,
A thousand cowards suck his bones.
Gun. Let the worst come,
I can unbreech a Cannon, and without much help
Turn her into the Keel; and when she has split it,
Every man knows his way, his own prayers,
And so good night I think.