Forgive me,
     I will forget the name, let it be death
     For me to call you Mother.

     Vio.

     Still upbraided?

     Hen.  No way left to appease you?

     Vio.

     None:  now hear me: 
     Hear what I vow before the face of Heaven,
     And if I break it, all plagues in this life,
     And those that after death are fear’d fall, on me,
     While that this Bastard staies under my roof,
     Look for no peace at home, for I renounce
     All Offices of a wife.

     Hen.

     What am I faln to?

     Vio.

     I will not eat, nor sleep with you, and those hours,
     Which I should spend in prayers for your health,
     Shall be emploi’d in Curses.

     Hen.

     Terrible.

     Vio.

     All the day long, I’le be as tedious to you
     As lingring fevers, and I’le watch the nights,
     To ring aloud your shame, and break your sleeps. 
     Or if you do but slumber, I’le appear
     In the shape of all my wrongs, and like a fury
     Fright you to madness, and if all this fail
     To work out my revenge, I have friends and kinsmen,
     That will not sit down tame with the disgrace
     That’s offer’d to our noble familie
     In what I suffer.

     Hen.

     How am I divided
     Between the duties I owe as a Husband,
     And pietie of a Parent?

     Asc.

     I am taught Sir
     By the instinct of nature that obedience
     Which bids me to prefer your peace of mind,
     Before those pleasures that are dearest to me,
     Be wholly hers (my Lord) I quit all parts,
     That I may challenge:  may you grow old together,
     And no distaste e’re find you, and before
     The Characters of age are printed on you
     May you see many Images of your selves,
     Though I, like some false glass, that’s never look’d in,
     Am cast aside, and broken; from this hour
     (Unless invited, which I dare not hope for)
     I never will set my forbidden feet
     Over your threshold:  only give me leave
     Though cast off to the world to mention you
     In my devotions, ’tis all I sue for
     And so I take my last leave.

     Hen.

     Though I am
     Devoted to a wife, nay almost sold
     A slave to serve her pleasures, yet I cannot
     So part with all humanity, but I must
     Shew something of a Father:  thou shalt not goe
     Unfurnish’d and unfriended too:  take that
     To guard thee from necessities; may thy goodness
     Meet many favours, and thine innocence
     Deserve to be the heir of greater fortunes,
     Than thou wer’t born to.  Scorn me not Violante,