_Fri._ It is a damn'd work to pursue those secrets 30 That would ope more sinne, and prove springs of slaughter; Nor is't a path for Christian feet to tread, But out of all way to the health of soules; A sinne impossible to be forgiven, Which he that dares commit--
_Mont._ Good father, cease your terrors. 35 Tempt not a man distracted; I am apt To outrages that I shall ever rue: I will not passe the verge that bounds a Christian, Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.
_Fri._ Then Heaven inspire you both with thoughts and deeds 40 Worthy his high respect, and your owne soules!
_Fri._ I warrant thee, my dearest daughter, He will not touch thee; think'st thou him a pagan? His honor and his soule lies for thy safety. _Exit._
_Mont._ Who shall remove the mountaine from my brest, 45 Stand [in] the opening furnace of my thoughts, And set fit out-cries for a soule in hell? _Mont[surry] turnes a key._ For now it nothing fits my woes to speak, But thunder, or to take into my throat The trump of Heaven, with whose determinate blasts 50 The windes shall burst and the devouring seas Be drunk up in his sounds, that my hot woes (Vented enough) I might convert to vapour Ascending from my infamie unseene; Shorten the world, preventing the last breath 55 That kils the living, and regenerates death.
_Tam._ My lord, my fault (as you may censure it With too strong arguments) is past your pardon. But how the circumstances may excuse mee, Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter 60 May let my penitent miseries make you know.
_Mont._ Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infinite That from this point will rise eternally. Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertue Excuses damne her: they be fires in cities 65 Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish. Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocks Thy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust: Sing, and put all the nets into thy voice With which thou drew'st into thy strumpets lap 70 The spawne of Venus, and in which ye danc'd; That, in thy laps steed, I may digge his tombe, And quit his manhood with a womans sleight, Who never is deceiv'd in her deceit. Sing (that is, write); and then take from mine eyes 75 The mists that hide the most inscrutable pander That ever lapt up an adulterous vomit, That I may see the devill, and survive To be a devill, and then learne to wive! That I may hang him, and then cut him downe, 80 Then cut him up, and with my soules beams search The cranks and cavernes of his braine, and study The errant wildernesse of a womans face, Where men cannot get out, for all the comets That have beene lighted at it. Though they know 85 That adders lie a sunning in their smiles, That basilisks drink their poyson from their eyes, And no way there to coast out to their hearts, Yet still they wander there, and are not stay'd Till they be fetter'd, nor secure before 90 All cares devoure them, nor in humane consort Till they embrace within their wives two breasts All Pelion and Cythæron with their beasts.-- Why write you not?