SOPHIA

Make way, or I will force it, who are those My sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me, And make this wretched body but one wound, So this unnatural quarrel find a grave In the unhappy womb that brought you forth: Dare you remember that you had a mother, Or look on these grey hairs, made so with tears, For both your goods, and not with age; and yet Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had Life, nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons; And dare you raise them against her, to whom You owe the means of being what you are? Why is this war, then? As if your arms could be advanced, and I Not set upon the rack? your blood is mine, Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in I must be branded with those impious marks You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine, If you go on thus: for my good name therefore, Though all respects of honour in your selves, Be in your fury choked, throw down your swords; Your duty should beswifter than my tongue; And join your hands while they be innocent; You have heat of blood, and youth apt to Ambition, To plead and easy pardon for what's passed: But all the ills beyond this hour committed, From gods or men must hope for no excuse, Oh yet, stay, And rather than partly thus, vouchsafe me hearing As enemies; how is my soul divided? My love to both, is equal, as my wishes; But are returned by neither; my grieved heart, Hold year a little longer, and then break. I kneel to both, and will speak so, but this Takes from me the authority of a mother's power; And therefore, Like my self, Otto, to thee, (And yet observe, son, how thy mother's tears Outstrip her forward words, to make way for'em.) Thou art the younger, Otto, yet be now The first example of obedience to me, And grow the elder in my love. This; yield up thy sword, And let thy piety give thy mother strength To take that from thee which no enemies force Could ever despoil thee of: why dost thou tremble, And with a fearful eye fixed on thy brother, Observest his ready sword, as bent against thee? I am thy armour, and will be pierced through, Ten thousand times, before I will give way To any peril may arrive at thee; And therefore fear not. All world's perish, Before my piety turn treasons parent, Take it again, and stand upon your guard, And while your brother is, continue armed; And yet, this fear is needless, for I know, My Rollo, though he dares as much as man, So tender of his yet untainted valour, So noble, that he dares do nothing basely. You doubt him; he fears you; I doubt and fear Both; for others safety, and not mine own. Know yet, my sons, when of necessity You must deceive, or be deceived; it's better To suffer treason, than to act the traitor; And in a war Like this, in which the glory Is his that's overcome: consider then What it's for which you strive: is it the dukedom? Or the command of these so ready Subject's? Desire of wealth? or whatsoever else Fires your ambition? This still desperate madness, To kill the people which you would be lords of; With fire, and sword, to lay that country waste Whose rule you seek for: to consume the treasures, Which are the sinews of your government, In cherishing the factions that destroy it: Far, far be this from you: make it not questioned Whither you have interest in that dukedom, Whose ruin both contend for. Divide me first, or tear me limb by limb, And let them find as many several graves As there are villages in Normandy : And it's less sin than thus to weaken it. To hear it mentioned does already make me Envy my dead lord, and almost blaspheme Those powers that herd my prayer for fruitfullness, And did not with my first birth close my womb: To me alone my second blessing proves My first of misery, for if that heaven Which gave me Rollo, there had stayed his bounty, And Otto, my deer Otto, never had been, Or being, had not been so worth my love, The stream of my affection had run constant Ju one fair current, all my Hope's had been Laid up in one; and fruitful Normandy In this division had not lost her glories: For as 'tis now, 'tis a fair diamond, Which being preserved entire, exceeds all valve, But cut in pieces (though these pieces are Set in fine gold by the best workmans cunning) Parts with all estimation: So this Dukedom, As it's yet whole, the neighbouring Kings may covet, But cannot compass; which divided, will Become the spoil of every barbarous foe That will invade it. I see in both, fair signs of reconcilement, Make hem sure proofs they are so: the Fates offer To your free choice, either to live Examples Of piety, or wickedness: if the later Blinds so your understanding, that you cannot Pierce through her painted outside, and discover That she is all deformity within, Boldly transcend all presidents of mischief, And let the last, and the worst end of tyrannies, The murder of a mother, but begin The stain of blood you after are to heighten: But if that virtue, and her sure rewards, Can win you to accept her for your guide, To led you up to heaven, and there fix you The fairest Stars in the bright Sphere of Honour; Make me the parent of and hundred sons, All brought into the world with joy, not sorrow, And every one a father to his country, In being now made mother of your concord. And to the honour of this reconcilement, We all this night will at a public Feast With choice wines drown our late fears, and with music Welcome our comforts. Now am I straight my lords, and young again, My long since blasted Hope's shoot out in blossoms, The fruits of everlasting love appearing; O! my blessed boys, the honour of my years, Of all my cares, the bounteous fair rewarders. O! let me thus embrace you, thus for ever Within a mother's love lock up your friendships: And my sweet sons, once more with mutual twinings, As one chased bed begotten you, make one body: Blessings from heaven in thousand showers fallen on you: Fit down my worthy sons; my lords. your places. I, now me thinks (the table's nobly furnish; Now the meat nourishes; the wine gives spirit; And all the room stuck with a general pleasure, Shows Like the peaceful bows of happiness. Are you well, noble child? Do, my best ehilde. Gods defend it son. You must not so sir, Without your great forgetfulness of virtue; This is your brother, and your honoured brother. Prithee sweet son. You dare tell me? Is this the joy I looked for? It breeds indeed my wonder. Though in remote and further of affections, These falsehoods are so common, yet in him They cannot so force nature; It cannot be, that fruits the tree so blasting Can grow in nature; take heed gentle son Least some subbornd suggester of these treasons, Believed in him by you, provoked the rather His tender envies, to such foul attempts; Or that your too much love to rule alone Breed not in him this Jealous pass ion; That re is not any ill we might not bear Were not our good held at a price too deer? Alas, my son, nor fate, nor heaven it self, Can or would wrest my whole care of your good To any least secureness in your ill: What I urge issues from my curious fear; Least you should make your means to escape your snare, Doubt of sincereness is the only mean Not to incense it, but corrupt it clean. Believe it Son If still his stomach be so foul to feed On such gross objects, and that thirst to rule The state alone be yet unquenched in him, Poisons and such close treasons ask more time Than can suffice his fiery spirits hast: And were there in him such desire to hide So false a practice, there would likewise rest Conscience and fear in him'of open force, And therefore close nor open you needs fear. Avert from us such jnstice, equal heaven, And all such cause of justice. What rage affects this monster? Make thy way viper, if thou thus affect it. Embrace me, wear me as thy shield, my son; And through my breast let his rude weapon run, To thy lives innoscence. Mother, dost thou name me, and puttest off nature thus? Hold me still. O thou art lost then. Call out murder. O part'em, part'em. Take spirit my Otto, Heaven will not see thee die thus. O he hath slain his brother, curse him heaven. Rise daughter, serve his will in what we may Least what we may not he enforce the rather, Is this all you command us? He temporizes fitly. What would she say? I hear. Sorrow is endue already, Anger never Should be conceived but where it may be born In some fact fit t'employ his active flame, That else consumes who bears it, and abides Like a false star that quenches as it glides. Tell what she will, I'll lend nor hand nor ear To whatsoever heaven puts in her power. O, here he lies, Sorrow on sorrow seeks me, O, in his blood he lies, No sadness my son this day. One noble father, with as noble thoughts, God your minds and bodies: one care rocked you and one truth to you both was ever sacred; Now fie my Otto, whither flies your goodness, Because the right hand has the power of cutting, Shall the left presently cry out 'tis maimed? They are one my child, one power, and one performance, And joined together thus, one love, one body.