Chapter XV: Act III: , Scene 1

_Enter_ PLANGUS _and_ INOPHILUS.

INO. But, sir, when you consider she's a woman----

PLAN. O dear Inophilus! Let earth and heav'n forget there are such things; Or if they ever name them, let it be With a curse heavy as are the ills they act. A mandrake's note Would ring a better peal of music in my ears, Than those two syllables pronounc'd again.

INO. Pray, sir, put off this humour, This peevish pet, and reason tamely. Sir, You've lost a wench, and will you therefore lose Yourself too? Hear me but patiently a word.[89]

PLAN. Prythee, go teach the galley-slaves that word, Things that dare own no thought beyond their chains, And stand in fear of whipping and wanting bread. Bid them be tame and patient that fry in sulphur: 'Tis a word I've forsworn to know the meaning of; Or if I must, 'tis but to shun it, and hate it more. O, were thy wrongs as great as mine, Inophilus, Or didst thou love but half so well as Plangus, Thou wouldst instil into me the poison of revenge, And puff me up with thought of vengeance Till I did burst, and, like a breaking cloud, Spread a contagion on those have injur'd me.

INO. Why, this were handsome in some country-fellow, Whose soul is dirty as the thing he's mad for: 'Twere pretty in a lady that had lost her dog; [Her dog;] but----

PLAN. I know what thou wouldst say-- But for Plangus. O, 'tis for none but him to Be so. Those that have injur'd me are persons I once held dearer than my eyes; but how much Greater was my love, so much more is th' offence; Wounds from our friends are deepest. Had any but my father--and yet methinks That name should have protected me; or was it Made only to secure offenders? My life was his, he gave it me: my honour, too, I could have parted with; but, 'las, my love Was none of mine, no more than vows made to A deity and not perform'd. And for that creature, Who must be lost for ills, through which I must Make way to my revenge-- Had she betray'd my honour to anything But him that gave me being, she had made Me half amends, in that my way to vengeance Had been open. Now I am spurr'd forward To revenge by fury, and yet held in by the rein Of a foolish piety, that doth no man good But them that use it not. 'Tis like the miser's idol, it yielded him No gold till he had broke the head off. Nay, Inophilus, one secret more, And the horror of it blow thee from earth to heaven, Where there are no such things as women: 'Twill turn thy soul the inside outward: I cannot get it out. Prythee what is't, Inophilus?

INO. Alas, I know not, sir.

PLAN. Do but imagine the worst of ills Earth ever groan'd under; a sin nothing but woman, Nay, such a woman as Andromana, durst think on; And it is that.

INO. How revenge transports you! Princes have lost their mistresses before, Nay, and to those have not such right to them, As hath Ephorbas to what Plangus hath. Who could command her, if not Ephorbas?

PLAN. But I have--O Inophilus, I burst-- Yet it will out--dost thou not see it here?

[_Unbuttons his doublet._

O, I have known Andromana as Ephorbas did last night.----

INO. Why, sir, The sin done by your father is not yours, If you could not help it.----

PLAN. Why, there it is: 'Tis that which gnaws me here. But I swore by all the gods that she was As innocent from my unclean embraces as is The new-fall'n snow, or ermines that will meet Ten deaths before one spot: I made my father think The thoughts of angels were less innocent than she. No, it was I betray'd him; his virtue was too great To[90] have suspected it. How do I look, Inophilus?

INO. Like some bless'd man that, griev'd for others' sins, Could,[91] out of a good nature, part with half His own whiteness to purge the others' stains.

PLAN. Now thou soothest, and, like some flattering glass, Present'st me to advantage. I am, in short, One born to make Iberia unhappy. Had I as black a face as is my soul, you would Find in respect of it Ãgyptians were snow-white. Methinks I hear Heaven tell me I am slow, And it is time I had begun revenge. Ephorbas has done him wrong, who lov'd him More than heaven or his happiness, and would Have run out of the world to have left him Free [to] whatever he would lay claim to, but Andromana-- Nay, she also had been His, so it could have been without a sin. But she knew the sin she acted, and yet did it; And [yet she] lives free from the stroke of thunder! Is there such a thing as heaven, or such a one As Justice dwells there? and can I ask the question? O, the tameness of a conscience loaded with sin. Which reasons and talks, when it should do! But I will be reveng'd, and thus I begin. Inophilus,

[_He draws._

Be sure, when I am dead, to meet my ghost, And do as that instructs thee. 'Twill tell all the particulars Of my revenge, who must die first, who last, and What way too. I have my lesson perfect.

[_He leans the pommel on the ground to fall on it_: INOPHILUS
_kicks it by with his foot_.

INO. Is this the revenge befits great Plangus?

PLAN. Had this been done two days ago, thou durst As well have met the lightning naked As have opposed my will thus.

[_He draws._

INO. Hear me; Ask me no questions, nor answer me; or if you do, By Heav'n, I'll never speak more. It is revenge You'd have, and 'tis a great one, a very noble one, To kill yourself! Be confident, your greatest foes Wish nothing more. When after-ages come to hear your story, What will they say? Just as they did of Cato: He durst not look great Cæsar in the face-- So Plangus was afraid, and died. A very pretty story, and much to a man's credit: For shame, dear Plangus (let friendship use that title): Show your great soul the world believes you're master of-- And I dare swear you are in this action. Nay, rally up yourself, and fight it stoutly. Shake from your mind revenge, and having laid That passion by, put on that virtue the world Admires in you; 'tis now the time to show it. The sun, broke from a cloud, doubles his light; And fire, the more resisted, flames more bright. Andromana has injur'd you; scorn her, therefore, As though[92] she had done nothing; I'd not do her the favour To have one thought of her, or could be troubled At that she did. As for your father, sir, Besides the tie of nature, he knows not He hath wrong'd you: or if he doth, 'Tis love that caus'd him; A word that once made an excuse with Plangus For what offence soever.

PLAN. Thou hast wrought upon me, And I am resolved to live a day or two more: But if I like it not--well, I'll go try To sleep a little; perhaps that may--I am Strangely melancholy: prythee, lie down by me, Inophilus, I'm safe while in thy company.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ PLANGUS, _as from sleep_.

PLAN. Lord! how this spirit of revenge still haunts me, And tempts me with such promis'd opportunity, And magnifies my injuries! Sometimes It calls me coward, and tells me conscience, In princes who are injur'd like myself, Is but an excuse they find for what is in truth Poorness of spirit or something baser. It tells me 'tis a sin to be good, when all The world is bad. It makes me look upon myself, whilst wearing This garb of virtue, like some old antiquary In clothes that are out of fashion in Iberia. But I will not yield to it: I know it is a greater glory To a man's self (and he that courts opinion Is of a vulgar spirit) to disobey than satisfy An appetite which I know is sinful. Good Heaven, guard me, how am I tempted

_Enter_ ANDROMANA.

To put on my former temper! but thus I fling it from me.

[_Throws away his sword._

SCENE III.

AND. Why, how now, prince? if you part with your darling So easily, there is small hopes but you Have thrown all love behind you.

PLAN. Heaven, how she's alter'd! I, that once swore Jove from the well-tun'd sphere Ne'er heard such harmony as I did when She spake: methinks I can now, in comparison Of her voice, count screech-owls' music, Or the croaking toad.

[_Aside._

AND. Who is't you speak of, sir?

PLAN. Tempt me not, madam, with another word; For, by Heaven, you know I'm apt, being incens'd---- Wake not those wrongs, that bellow louder in My soul than wretches in the brazen bull, or Jove Who speaks in thunder; those wrongs my goodness Had half laid aside--or if you do, I have a soul dares 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 infinitely injur'd you, And could not satisfy my conscience--if I Should say my love too, I should not lie-- Till I had ask'd your pardon.

PLAN. 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 die Without one cross (for afflictions commonly teach Virtues to them that know them not while prosperous) Secure, without one thought or sense of a repentance.

AND. Methinks you have a steely temper on, to that Which the other day you wore, when you were More soft than down of bees. But, sir, if you But knew the reason why I've done the action Which you perhaps call treason to our loves, You would forbear such language.

PLAN. Reason! No doubt the man that robs a church, or profanes altars, Hath reason for what he doth: to satisfy 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'd Betwixt us, hear me.

PLAN. 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 your----

PLAN. Lust, madam.

AND. I know not, sir: Your eloquence gave it that title then. How many dangers walk'd I fearless through To satisfy 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 work'd and studied as much to put it into act, As doth a gamester upon loss to compass money. At last we were betray'd, sir, to your father's spies, who Denied us afterwards those opportunities we stole Before, befriended 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 It was noble too, so noble, I knew My husband being dead, you would not stick To ask your father's leave for public marriage.

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

AND. Nay, farther yet, I knew your father's love, Which would not have denied you anything, Would also have granted that.

PLAN. Madam, you riddle strangely.

AND. When I had Forecast these easy possibilities, I yet Foresaw one thing that crossed our designs-- That was a sense of honour I had in me. Methought in honour I could not condescend You should debase yourself so low. It pleas'd me Better to be your mistress than your queen; And stol'n embraces, without the scandal Of a public eye, were sweeter than those Which might bring upon me--for rising greatness Is still envied--the rancour of the people, And consequent distaste[93] against their prince. Sir, now we may act safely what might have Been less secure. Your father's name gives a protection---- Or, if that startle you, we'll call him husband!

PLAN. Are you in earnest?

AND. As serious as love can be.

PLAN. 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 pity, As to be false unto my father's 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 of now with horror. But for those sins, and whatsoever else I must repent, I shall no doubt have great Occasion, when I shall see th' kingdom Envelop'd in those swarms of plagues your sins Call down, and feel a share of them myself. For heaven's sake, madam! for my father's sake, Nay, for my own, if that have any interest, Learn now at last a virtue, that may make us As happy as much as hitherto unfortunate, And render your story to posterity so burnish'd With your shining goodness, that their eyes may not Perceive the error of your former years. Perhaps I then shall have a reverence for you, As great as any son hath for a father's wife. You wonder, lady, to see me talk thus different From what you saw me half an hour ago. I look'd upon myself 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!

PLAN. Answer me not in words, but deeds; I know you always talk'd unhappily,[94] And if your heart dare do what's ill, I know it can well teach your tongue excuses.

[_Exit_ PLANGUS.

SCENE IV.

AND. And is my love then scorn'd? The chaos of eternal night possess my breast, That it may not see to startle at any Undertakings, though they would make Medusa's snakes curl into rings for fear. If greatness have inspired me with thoughts Of a more brave revenge, they shall be acted. A husband's murder was such a puny sin, I blush to speak it; but it was great enough For a merchant's wife: a queen must be more Daring in her revenge, nor must her wrath Be pacifi'd under a whole kingdom's ruin.

SCENE V.

_Enter_ LIBACER.

My better genius, thou art welcome as A draught of water to a thirsty man: I ne'er had need of thee till now. Muster those devils dwell within thy breast, And let them counsel me to a revenge As great as is my will to act it.

LIB. Madam, leave words. The rest you take In breathing makes your anger cool. Out with it, And if I do it not; if I startle at Any ill to do you service, though it be To kill my mother, let me be troubled with The plague of a tender conscience, and lie Sick of repentance a half year after.

AND. What need I tell thee more? Plangus must die, and after him Ephorbas, Because he is his father.

LIB. Madam, he shall. But give me leave to ask you How he, for whom alone of all the world You had a passion, is now become An object of your hatred so great, as others Must die because they have relation to him?

AND. The air is hot yet with those words I proffer'd him In satisfaction, and he refus'd it. What need I speak? Is't safe that he should live knows so much by us?

LIB. He had been happy had he never known What virtue meant. I wonder that paltry thing Is not banish'd earth, it ne'er did any good yet. Beggary's a blessing to't; whoe'er grew rich By virtue? Madam, we are not troubled with it. But to our business:--I have thought a way. You know his father loves him. 'Tis he shall ruin him, And let's alone for him.

AND. Pish! pish! that cannot be.

LIB. These women are always with their _cannots_. What cannot be? Have you but read The _Sophy_,[95] you will find that Haly (O, how I hug that fellow's name!) ruin'd Great Mirza by his father, and his father by his son. That great politician, while all the court Flam'd round about him, sat secure, and laugh'd, Like those throw fireworks among the waving people That have nothing but fire and smoke about them, And yet not singe one hair. Indeed he fell at last, 'Tis true; but he was shallow in that part o' th' plot. What have we his example [for] but to learn by it? Praise Plangus to Ephorbas then so far, That first he may fear for his kingdom; And if you do proceed till he grew jealous of His bed, 'twill do the better. The king is coming, I must be gone.

[_Exit_ LIBACER.

SCENE VI.

_Enter_ EPHORBAS.

EPH. How fares Andromana? I'm glad this greatness sits so well about thee; My court was bless'd that hour I knew thee first. We'll live and still grow happy; we shall flourish Like some spreading tree that shall never cease Till its proud height o'erlook the skies. I hope I bad fair for a boy to-night. How happy Should I count myself could I but leave My kingdom something that had thy image in't.

AND. Sir, never think Iberia can be happy in another son, When such a prince as Plangus lives the heir, Who is the subject of all men's pray'rs--nay, The deserver too. There's not a man or woman In the kingdom hath one good wish within their breast But they straight bestow it upon Plangus: A prince whom mothers show their little children As something they should learn betime To worship and admire.

EPH. I know, Andromana; but----

AND. Sir, virtue's perfection Is at the height in him. Whatever after Ages bear, or give the name of worth to, Must, if compar'd to him, be but as foils To set his glory off the brighter. Nor are the men only thus taken with him; There's not a lady in the land but sighs With passion for him, and dreams on him a-nights. Husbands grow jealous of him, yet with joy That they are Plangus' rivals.

EPH. All this is nothing. Men talk'd as loud of me when I was young.

AND. Yea, but they say, sir, you were Not half so mincing in your carriage, nor so majestic. Besides----

EPH. I hope they do not make comparisons.

[_Starts._

AND. Sir, I thought we could not have discours'd on a More welcome theme than what is full of Plangus.

EPH. No more you cannot. Let him as a less star Enjoy his splendour, but it must not be so great To darken me; but, prythee, do they compare us then?

AND. You're discompos'd, sir!--I have done.

EPH. Nay, nothing But the remembrance of a foolish dream--what say they?

AND. Why, sir, some went so far to say, they wonder'd A lady of my years could marry the father, Though a king, when I might have had Plangus himself.

EPH. They did not?

AND. Then I confess I blush'd, and had been out Of temper, but that I thought it might be The court fashion to talk boldly.

EPH. This story jump'd Just with my dream to-night;[96] but methought I saw Him threat'ning to kill me 'cause thou hadst married me---- But the young saucy boy shall know I hold My sceptre strong enough to crush him into atoms. Did they not name Inophilus?

AND. I think they did. He had some share Of praises too; but it was so as gleanings To a loading cart, they sometimes fell beside.

EPH. Then I am satisfied. 'Tis an aspiring youth: 'tis something That unites Plangus and him so. I must Be speedy in resolves.

[_Exit_ EPHORBAS.

SCENE VII.

AND. Who waits without there?

_Enter_ LIBACER.

O, art thou come? Stay, let me breathe, or else----

LIB. Nay, spare your pains, I know it all; I saw him Drink it with as great greediness as usurers Do unthrifts' lands, or jealous husbands confirm Their cuckoldships by ocular testimony.

AND. It took most rarely, Beyond our hopes. I'll leave the rest to thee, Thou art so fortunate in all designs. Go on and prosper.

LIB. And I'll attend for an opportunity to meet With Plangus, and betray him to ruin As great as unavoidable.

[_Exeunt._