Hip. And I'll prefer you, brother.
Ven. Go to, then:
The smallest advantage fattens wronged men:
It may point out occasion, if I meet her,
I'll hold her by the foretop fast enough;
Or, like the French Mole,[12] heave up hair and all.
I have a habit that will fit it quaintly.
Here comes our mother.
Hip. And sister.
Ven. We must coin:
Women are apt, you know, to take false money;
But I dare stake my soul for these two creatures,
Only excuse excepted, that they'll swallow,
Because their sex is easy in belief.
Enter Gratiana and Castiza.
Gra. What news from court, son Carlo?
Hip. Faith, mother,
Tis whisper'd there the duchess' youngest son
Has play'd a rape on Lord Antonio's wife.
Gra. On that religious lady!
Cas. Royal blood! monster, he deserves to die,
If Italy had no more hopes but he.
Ven. Sister, y'have sentenc'd most direct and true,
The law's a woman, and would she were you.
Mother, I must take leave of you.