"Tis Pity She's A Whore

Act 4, Scene 3

Soranzo Come, strumpet, famous whore! were every drop

Of blood that runs in thy adulterous veins

A life, this sword (dost see't?) should in one blow

Confound them all. Harlot, rare, notable harlot,

That with thy brazen face maintain'st thy sin,

Was there no man in Parma to be bawd

To your loose cunning whoredom else but I?

Must your hot itch and pleurisy of lust,

The heyday of your luxury, be fed

Up to a surfeit, and could none but I

Be pick'd out to be cloak to your close tricks,

Your belly−sports?Now I must be the dad

To all that gallimaufry that is stuff'd

In thy corrupted bastard−bearing womb!

Why, must I?

Beastly man! Why?'tis thy fate.

I sued not to thee; for, but that I thought

Your over−loving lordship would have run

Mad on denial, had you lent me time,

I would have told you in what case I was:

But you would needs be doing.

Soranzo Whore of whores!

Darest thou tell me this?

Oh, yes; why not?

You were deceived in me; 'twas not for love

I chose you, but for honour; yet know this,

Would you be patient yet, and hide your shame,

I'd see whether I could love you.

Soranzo Excellent quean!

Why, art thou not with child?

Annabella What needs all this,

When 'tis superfluous? I confess I am.

Soranzo Tell me by whom.

Soft, 'twas not in my bargain.

Yet somewhat, sir, to stay your longing stomach

I am content t' acquaint you with; THE man,

The more than man, that got this sprightly boy,

(For 'tis a boy, [and] therefore glory, sir,

Your heir shall be a son)

Soranzo Damnable monster!

Nay, an you will not hear, I'll speak no more.

Soranzo Yes, speak, and speak thy last.

A match, a match!

This noble creature was in every part

So angel−like, so glorious, that a woman,

Who had not been but human, as was I,

Would have kneel'd to him, and have begg'd for love.

You! why you are not worthy once to name

His name without true worship, or, indeed,

Unless you kneel'd, to hear another name him.

Soranzo What was he call'd?

We are not come to that;

Let it suffice, that you shall have the glory

To father what so brave a father got.

In brief, had not this chance fall'n out as it doth,

I never had been troubled with a thought

That you had been a creature;but for marriage,

I scarce dream yet of that.

Soranzo Tell me his name.

Alas, alas, there's all! will you believe?

Soranzo What?

You shall never know.

Soranzo How!

Never; if

You do, let me be curs'd.

Soranzo Not know it, strumpet! I'll rip up thy heart,

And find it there.

Do, do.

Soranzo And with my teeth,

Tear the prodigious lecher joint by joint.

Ha, ha, ha! the man's merry.

Soranzo Dost thou laugh?

Come, whore, tell me your lover, or by truth

I'll hew thy flesh to shreds; who is 't?

[Sings.] Che morte piu dolce che morire per amore?

[Sings] What sweeter death than to die by love?

Soranzo Thus will I pull thy hair, and thus I'll drag

Thy lust beleper'd body through the dust

[Hales her up and down.] Yet tell his name.

[Sings.] Morendo in grazia dee morire senza dolore?

Soranzo Dost thou triumph? the treasure of the earth

Shall not redeem thee; were there kneeling kings

Did beg thy life, or angels did come down

To plead in tears, yet should not all prevail

Against my rage: dost thou not tremble yet?

At what? to die! no, be a gallant hangman;

I dare thee to the worst: strike, and strike home;

I leave revenge behind, and thou shalt feel it.

Soranzo Yet tell me ere thou diest, and tell me truly,

Knows thy old father this?

No, by my life.

Soranzo Wilt thou confess, and I will spare thy life?

My life! I will not buy my life so dear.

Soranzo I will not slack my vengeance. [Draws his sword.]

Forbear, Vasques; such a damned whore

Deserves no pity.

She shall not live.

Pish, do not beg for me, I prize my life

As nothing; if the man will needs be mad,

Why, let him take it.

Soranzo Vasques, hear'st thou this?

Oh, Vasques, Vasques, in this piece of flesh,

This faithless face of hers, had I laid up

The treasure of my heart. Hadst thou been virtuous,

Fair, wicked woman, not the matchless joys

Of life itself, had made me wish to live

With any saint but thee: deceitful creature,

How hast thou mock'd my hopes, and in the shame

Of thy lewd womb even buried me alive!

I did too dearly love thee.

Be witness to my words thy soul and thoughts;

And tell me, didst not think that in my heart

I did too superstitiously adore thee?

I must confess, I know you lov'd me well.

Soranzo And wouldst thou use me thus! O Annabella!

Be thou assured, whoe'er the villain was

That thus hath tempted thee to this disgrace,

Well he might lust, but never loved like me.

He doted on the picture that hung out

Upon thy cheeks, to please his humorous eye;

For on the part I lov'd, which was thy heart,

And, as I thought, thy virtues.

Oh, my lord!

These words wound deeper than your sword could do.

Soranzo Forgive me, Annabella: though thy youth

Hath tempted thee above thy strength to folly,

Yet will I not forget what I should be,

And what I am, a husband; in that name

Is hid divinity: if I do find

That thou wilt yet be true, here I remit

All former faults, and take thee to my bosom.

Sir, on my knees

Soranzo Rise up, you shall not kneel.

Get you to your chamber, see you make no show

Of alteration; I'll be with you straight:

My reason tells me now, that  'tis as common

To err in frailty as to be a woman.

Go to your chamber.

[Exit Annabella.]