doubtful.
_Viol_. I laugh at this, proceed.

_Jam_.

This Soul I speak of,
Or rather Salt to keep this heap of flesh
From being a walking stench, like a large Inn,
Stands open for the entertainment of
All impious practices: but there's no Corner
An honest thought can take up: and as it were not
Sufficient in your self to comprehend
All wicked plots, you have taught the Fool, my Brother,
By your contagion, almost to put off
The nature of the man, and turn'd him Devil,
Because he should be like you, and I hope
Will march to Hell together: I have spoken,
And if the Limning you in your true Colours
Can make the Painter gracious, I stand ready
For my reward, or if my words distaste you,
I weigh it not, for though your Grooms were ready
To cut my Throat for't, be assur'd I cannot
Use other Language.

_Viol_.

You think you have said now,
Like a brave fellow: in this Womans War
You ever have been train'd: spoke big, but suffer'd
Like a tame Ass; and when most spur'd and gall'd
Were never Master of the Spleen or Spirit,
That could raise up the anger of a man,
And force it into action.

_Jam_.

Yes, vile Creature,
Wer't thou a subject worthy of my Sword,
Or that thy death, this moment, could call home
My banish'd hopes, thou now wer't dead; dead, woman;
But being as thou art, it is sufficient
I scorn thee, and contemn thee.

_Viol_.

This shews nobly,
I must confess it: I am taken with it,
For had you kneel'd and whin'd and shew'd a base
And low dejected mind, I had despis'd you.
This bravery (in your adverse fortune) conquers
And do's command me, and upon the suddain
I feel a kind of pity, growing in me,
For your misfortunes, pity some say's the Parent,
Of future love, and I repent my part
So far in what you have suffered, that I could
(But you are cold) do something to repair
What your base Brother (such _Jamie_ I think him)
Hath brought to ruine.

_Jam_.

Ha?

_Viol_.

Be not amaz'd,
Our injuries are equal in his Bastard,
You are familiar with what I groan for,
And though the name of Husband holds a tye
Beyond a Brother, I, a poor weak Woman,
Am sensible, and tender of a wrong,
And to revenge it would b