With scorn and impudence: is this a mourning-habit?


Vit. Had I foreknown his death, as you suggest,
I would have bespoke my mourning.


Mont. Oh, you are cunning!


Vit. You shame your wit and judgment,
To call it so. What! is my just defence
By him that is my judge call'd impudence?
Let me appeal then from this Christian court,
To the uncivil Tartar.


Mont. See, my lords,
She scandals our proceedings.


Vit. Humbly thus,
Thus low to the most worthy and respected
Lieger ambassadors, my modesty
And womanhood I tender; but withal,
So entangled in a curs'd accusation,
That my defence, of force, like Perseus,
Must personate masculine virtue. To the point.
Find me but guilty, sever head from body,
We 'll part good friends: I scorn to hold my life