Passages from this character's speech that contain the most distinguishing words for Cluster 19 (piety, thalander, crimes, blessings, loathed, pretend…). Matches are highlighted.
his nativity, for the Seas worth. As if from's Issue, he could never deserve. A nument, v less himself do hew The stones whereof t'is built: unless he raise His Monument on a Wart; his dignity On poverty obscure and base. Oh gentle Corsa! make it so with me, Fain would I (if I durst) reveal to him The heat of my affection, and where
Full speech
This way to madness leads, teach not my heart Such modern Heraldry. Let it dispose Of charitable thoughts, with natural eyes, Unlimited by customary form, Which gain, and nicety have made and Art, Virtue, not blood ennobles us, and erns Her attribute, without hereditary help From ancestors. Oh my deer Forest? Thy sister with such noble wealth is fraught, That to be covetous for her, appears, A holy sin. But thou art cruel grown Thy memory is sick. The old effects That witness how I love thy learned soul, Are quite forgotten. Heart of Viper! Sure Time hath lost his feathers from his Heals, Mark how slow he goes? Shall I near be old That my designs may repute have, And credit in the World. I do not ask Thy Sister for my Whore; but for my Wife. In this, I dare discredit Fate. They are not so wealthy in affliction: With sorrow so well stored; as could suffice To try my sufferance: in the behalf Of you my Prince, and still royal Master. It were (Sir) but ingratitude in me To l ssen thus, the number sanctifide Of your true friends. Be you pleased to sheath it, In that same partly, which you do most abhor. My zeal unto my self forbids my speech. Since if I make reply to this, I but Disparedge duty, and consume my breath. Where ight is young, and clear, there Spectacles Are troublesome; and rather hide, then show The object. The most devout obedience Which I shall ever owe unto your Grace Becomes my heart, much better then my tongue. My gracious Lord!— Your Grace will bring us both within the reach Of public envy. Since you (the royal maker) do commend The mettle, and your workmanship; it shows There's little skill in those which envy him. Forest is your Creature. Many times I do acquaint him what the general voice Does urge in his disgrace. He laughs it out And swears he would not lose that privilege Which Nature gave him by her kind mistake In his nativity, for the Seas worth. As if from's Issue, he could never deserve. A nument, v less himself do hew The stones whereof t'is built: unless he raise His Monument on a Wart; his dignity On poverty obscure and base. Oh gentle Corsa! make it so with me, Fain would I (if I durst) reveal to him The heat of my affection, and where t'is fixed. Signior Forest, You see my love is rude, and bold. am The usher to my own entrance. I am in debt for both. wilt thou not child. To see my heart assume this liberty. Upon my Tongue: before it rightly knows! Thy sisters heart: The Duke consent, as yet unasked too: h ark? How Forest? Hast thou ears? and wilt thou such hopeful harmony, Thy thrist unnatural, wilt thou forbid Thy friend to share in what is good, sweet tongue And hand, persist in what your kindness proffered. Show me the way Forest. My heart is stolen out of my ear; let me But know the thief, and I'll forgive the robbery. Speak; who is't that, with a voice so amorous And shrill, confounds the others hollow organ? Still so reserved, and unto me. Is this that child of Orpheus? how? kneel to me? Dare you authorise this Idolatry? Then I'll kneel too. Such is my prayer too. Oh Forest! Excessive joy disturbs my utterance. My words are parted on any tongue. Oh speak! Thou knowest my heart! Tell her, there may lie hope, I shall deserve those Tears that show Like dew Upon the Morning cheek. Entreat her, that My years may not disgrace my love. Though I Am young, I cannot counterfeit, I ever speak my thoughts. I am overcome. Excellent wretch! I am undone with joy I will not blame the Coward to fear death, Since the world contains such joy as this. Why do you weep Lady? can you suppose Forest would consent to what is done, Unless he knew there were no danger in't? Sure his Mother was a Sibyl; he sees With a prophetic aim; the end of his Designs; before they come to Actium. He is too wise to err. Why weep you then? Mark then the bondage I impose on mine, My poor eyes have no object, but your face: Of which I will deprive them thus— Shroud thee in thy vestal ornaments. Creep, creep, my glorious Sun, behind a cloud. For else my eyes, will sum feit with delight. I never felt true joy till now. Me thinks A brisk alacrity, a nimble fire, Con ayes me strangely from my flesh. Not the Cannons, Iron-entraile, when wrapped Within a swarthy case of troubled Air, Could quall me in emphasis of Motion. Come then (my deer Corsa ) the Priest attends Within; the world wants Men; and Hymen is A nimble God. When all is passed prevention The Duke shall know my choice. It is no crime Unless against that great prerogative Your ear hath ouerrune. Perhaps my Heart, Hath made escape through these fond Eyes. And I (I'th' rash discretion of my youthful blood) Confined my self in Matrimonial bonds. Heaven orb worser, your Grace should ere employ Your as to discourse with her till grew . ever. My soul abhors such tyranny. Never, since my distinction was of power, To help its choice. Never. Never. From whom is this sir? I humbly kiss his hand. Sir, have you ever been in service, Under any eminent Commander? Read these Forest. How Reputation lessens in esteem. Courtesy grows so cheap, that denial, Seems less troublesome then consent. And performance is only Lazy. The labour of subscription hinders more, Then thought of that, to which it does subscribe. This Letter would feign make you a Captain In the new Troops, sent to the Valtaline. But sure your modesty will teach you balk The grant, though I should beg you to receau't. No, the frien ship of the noble Marquisse Shall never countenance unjust deeds. Find a Suit more capable of my grant, And your acceptance, it is your own. Forest, I have taken my leave o'th' Duke. Now, presently. My followers attend At door. I only came to kiss thy hands. I must through. His grace will have it so. Why dost thou make thy head, to shake and reel, Upon thy shoulders thus. Is it overcome With thoughts, and such as must be hid from me? He's too moderate, that will at my years, Be satisfied thus. Forest is this all? Young thoughts encourage me to sufferance. Each storm is usher to a gentle calm: Why toils with speed, gets soonest home to rest. The plodding Mule shall sleep eternally. Why should the stricken deer bem ane his death: His obsequies, were full of noble rites: Acteons Choir, a jolly Requiem gave: And the Arrow from the bow did sing his dirge. Oh Forest! the fatal Hour is come Ring out your Bells', until they wake the dead. Let the Drum murmur in a able Bag. Reverse your Muskets, and trail your stubborn Pikes In slimy-Channels. Let Trumpets groan, And the shrill Phiph be hoarse. The fatal Hour, Is come. Oh my wife! by this she did entreat me Suddenly, (upon some urgent cause) To haste from Lucca to her: Just now; I lighted from my Horse, entered her Chamber: And found her newly murdered in her Chair. My Servants say that my arrival there, Did joust succeed your departure from her. Hence, and expect me strait at home. Oh Villain! more bloody then the Tiger; Whose empty Entrails noise, does (Trumpet Like) Encourage cruelty; Though thou didst flight her As my poor Wife: yet she might well expect Some mercy, as being thy own sister. A bloody kindness to distinguish so She was no Adulteress, but enforced. Her thoughts Were pure: and such a noble sympathy Indeerd her Soul to mine; that her own Tears, Might soon have washed away her Bodies stain, And she again seem clean. Corsa! Oh my Wife! my bosom Girl! where art thou? Speak, no reply? Art thou so much busied With thy new acquaintance now in Heaven: That thy poor Lord, may not borrow one word At parting? Draw, draw ingrateful Monster! That hast prevented thus our Dialogue. No false Syren! thou holy Hypocrite! I know thy tricks too well! Because I am young, Too soft of heart, and apt to melt In every flame of my own trivial love; Therefore thou thinkest to practice on me now With subtle phrase. Draw, or else thou diest. A sacrifice to me! Oh Forest! Why dost thou multiply thy skill To thy friends pr judice? It is not well, In troth it is not. Employ thy own heart: Think vpon't thy self. 'Tis not kindly done: I should not have used you thus— You shall. But do not execute revenge, Upon the Duke; till my assent encourage thee. That name will prick my fury on: although I strive to be propitious. A rude summons, that calls me as a Judge, To censure on the errors of my Prince. Forest sheath thy sword. It must not be. He was our Royal Master once, and might In modesty compare himself; with all But Princes; whom Fame reserves as Patterns, For my sake sheath your Sword. And that's the surgery, which I desire. I will endure all. Oh my Lord, my Lord; I will not bid Posterity tell tales: nor charge Historians to insert in Annals; On such a Night a great Italian. Duke, Ravished his Creature Lucio's Wife: Sister To Forest, his active Councillor. And Forest, whose industry, and care Outwatched Leane-vigilance, Till she grew mad. But come, Let's leave him to contrive our death's. My Heart so fills my mouth, I cannot speak. Forest come away. My Royal Master bleeding on the Ground: Oh murderous Villains: I am foiled by a base hand. Sir, I forgive you all. Amen, Amen. It is their humble skill not to arrive Before your Grace, but by and Advocate A Mediator blessed in your Eyes. I shall be earnest to my utmost skill. As if the object were but new to him. And his own heart unsettled in his b ast. I fear, yet my Hope's would feign comfort me, Farewell. Dost thou call it Justice? Oh horror! furnish us (sweet Heaven) with some Instinct. Inspire remorse: or we accuse Thy skilfulness to predestine us a Prince: Murdering, whom thou didst anoint our Sovereign. Here may my knees take root: while I do grow A living Statue of true obedience, Or let my royal Master grant his pardon.
Plot summary
Plot — The Cruel Brother
As a favour to Lucio, to whom he is devoted, the Duke appoints the low-born Foreste his secretary, the first port of call for ali suitors seeking monopolies and preferment. Lucio also wants to marry Foreste’s sister, 1627 Corsa, arguing that she is ennobled by her virtue, though not her ancestry. He goes through with the marriage secretly, without the Duke’s permission; but the Duke is impressed by Corsa when they are introduced, and has her brought to court so that the marriage can be properly celebrated with masques and revels. Foreste humiliates the satirist Castruccio, but his elevation to the secretaryship prevents Castruccio from challenging him to a duel. The poet initially takes a literary revenge, but, when the Duke asks about his satires, he is too cowardly to admit that Foreste is the target. The rustic Lothario comes to court, dressing foppishly in the hope of becoming a ducal favourite. Castruccio persuades him that his lack of success is Foreste’s fault. Lothario accosts Foreste offensively and finds himself imprisoned in a tiny cell. The Duke’s real intention in bringing Corsa to court is to seduce her. He engages Foreste’s wife as an unwitting go-between, then sends Lucio away overnight on a diplomatic mission. With Castruccio’s assistance, he visits Corsa, and rapes her. Foreste learns of the rape and slits the dishonoured Corsa’s wrist; she bleeds to death. On his return, Lucio takes a more lenient view than Foreste — he places more weight on the compulsion than the sexual penetration — but both agree to take revenge on the Duke, and visit him in bed. In the end, they decide to spare him, but he has already arranged assassins to dispose of them: the job was given to Castruccio, who subcontracted it to Lothario. Lothario kills the Duke by mistake; Castruccio and his accomplice kill him, then finish the job by killing Foreste and Lucio. The conspirators are kept alive to answer questions, and then suffer a death of exemplary horribleness.