SCENE III


A Chamber in the Castle. Sophia, Elizabeth, Agnes, Isentrude, etc.,
re-entering.

Soph. What! you will not? You hear, Dame Isentrude,
She will not wear her coronet in the church,
Because, forsooth, the crucifix within
Is crowned with thorns. You hear her.

Eliz. Noble mother!
How could I flaunt this bauble in His face
Who hung there, naked, bleeding, all for me--
I felt it shamelessness to go so gay.

Soph. Felt? What then? Every foolish wench has feelings
In these religious days, and thinks it carnal
To wash her dishes, and obey her parents--
No wonder they ape you, if you ape them--
Go to! I hate this humble-minded pride,
Self-willed submission--to your own pert fancies;
This fog-bred mushroom-spawn of brain-sick wits,
Who make their oddities their test for grace,
And peer about to catch the general eye;
Ah! I have watched you throw your playmates down
To have the pleasure of kneeling for their pardon.
Here's sanctity--to shame your cousin and me--