Andromana : or the merchant's wife :: :: University of Virginia Library

Pl.
Heaven, how she's alter'd!
I that once swore, Jove from the well-tun'd sphere
Ne're heard such harmony as I did, when she spake;
Me thinks I can now in comparison of her voice
Count Scritch-owls musick, or the croaking Toad.

And.
Who is't you speak of Sir?

Pl.
Tempt me not, Madam, with another word, for by heav'n
You know I'me apt being incenst—
Wake not those wrongs that bellow louder in my soul
Then wretches in the brazen Bull, or Jove
Who speaks in thunder; those wrongs my goodness
Had half layd aside. Or if you do,
I have a soul dare what you dare tempt me to.

And.
Sir, I must speak though Jove forbad me
With a flash of lightning.
You think perhaps Sir, I have forgot my Plangus.
But Sir, I have infinitly injur'd you,
And could not satisfie my conscience,
(If I should say my love too, I should not lye)
Till I had ask't your pardon.

Pl.
Madam, the fault's forgiven and forgotten,
Without you move me to remember't with a worse Apology.
Live and enjoy your sins, and the angry gods:
Nay the severest plague I wish you, is,
That you may dye without one cross (for afflictions commonly
Teach vertues to them that know them not while prosperous)
Secure without one thought or sense of a repentance.

And.
Me thinks you have a steely temper on, to that
Which the other day you wore, when you were
More soft then down of Bees;
But Sir if you but knew the reason why I have done
The action, which you perhaps call treason to our loves,
You would forbear such language.

Pl.
Reason! no doubt the man that robs a Church,
Or prophanes Altars, hath reason for what he doth;
To satisfie your lust, you have that reason, Madam.

And.
That I have loved you once,
I call heaven, my own heart, and you to witness;

Now by that love, by all those vows have pass't
Betwixt us, hear me.

Pl.
O heaven! is that a conjuration! things you have broke
With as much ease as Politicians do Maxims of Religion.
But I will hear to know you, and to hate you more.
Speak on.

And.
You know whilst Leon liv'd, whose due they were,
I out of love resign'd my love and honour unto you.

Pl.
Lust, Madam.

And.
I know not Sir:
Your eloquence gave it that title then.
How many dangers walkt I fearless through
To falsifie your pleasures? your very will,
Nay more your word, nay if I thought by sympathy
A thought of yours, that I imagin'd you
Might blush to speak, I made it straight my own,
And waked and studied as much to put it into act,
As doth a Gamester upon loss to compass mony.
At last we were betray'd Sir, to your Father's spies,
Who deny'd us afterwards those opportunities
We stole before, be-friended by my husband's ignorance.
Now was I brought to that which is the worst of ills,
A seeing, but not enjoying of that which I held dearest.
To see you daily, and to live without you,
Was a death many degrees beyond my own.
I knew the love was great, so great I durst not own it.
Nay more I knew twas noble too, so noble
I knew my husband being dead you would not stick
To ask your fathers leave for publick Marriage.

Pl.
Heaven and the gods can witness I intended it.

And.
Nay farther yet, I knew your fathers love,
Which would not have denyd you any thing,
Would also have granted that.

Pl.
Madam, you riddle strangely.

And.

When I had forecast these easie possibilities,
I yet foresaw one thing that crost our designs,
That was a sense of honour I had in me.
Me thoughts in honour I could not condescend, you

Should debase your self so low.

It pleas'd me better to be your Mistress, then your Queen,
And stoln imbraces without the scandal
Of a publick eye, were sweeter then those
Which might bring upon me (for rising greatness
Is still envy'd) the rancour of the people, and
Consequently distasts against their Prince.
Sir now we may act safely what might have been
Less secure. Your fathers name gives a protection;
Or if that startle you, wee'l call him husband.

Pl.
Are you in earnest?

And.
As serious as love can be.

Pl.

Then I want words to tell you how I hate you:
I would sooner meet Megæra 'tween a pair of sheets.
And can you think I should have so small piety,
As to be false unto my fathers bed?
That I lov'd you once, I confess with shame, and that I should
Have done so still, had you preserv'd those flames
I think with horror, but for those sins, and
Whatsoever else I must repent, I shall no doubt
Have great occasion, when I shall see the Kingdome
Enveloped in those swarms of plagues your sins call down,
And feel a share of them my self.

For heaven's sake, Madam! for my father's sake,
Nay for my own too, if that have any interest,
Learn now at last a vertue, that may make us
As happy as much as hitherto unfortunate,
And render your story to posterity so burnisht
With your shining goodness, that their eyes may not
Perceive the errour of your former years.
Perhaps I then shall have a reverence for you,
As great as any son hath for a fathers wife.
You wonder, Lady, to see me talk thus different
From what you saw me half an hour ago.
I look't upon my self as one that had lost a blessing—
But heaven hath been happier to me, for I am now
So far from thinking you one, that I look upon you
As a plague, no sin of good Ephorbas could deserve,

But love to you—

And.
Sir,—

Pl.
Answer me not in words, but deeds;
I know you alwayes talkt unhappily.
And if your heart dare do whats ill,
I know it can well teach your tongue excuses.
Exit Plangus.