Ang. But I'll not be so prodigal to lavish
Such gifts away, that be irrevocable
And yet the first that leave us.
Æmi. 'Twill be ne'er exacted,
How soon you have bestow'd them, but how well.
What good or profit can a hidden treasure[345]
Do more than feed the miser's greedy eye,
When, if 'twere well bestow'd, it might enrich
The owner and the user of it? Such
Is youth and nature's bounty, that receive
A gain from the expense; but, were there none
But a mere damage, yet the pleasure of it
And the delight would recompense the loss.
Ang. Whate'er the pleasure be or the delight,
I am too young, not plum'd for such a flight.
Æmi. Too young? a poor excuse! alas, your will
Is weaker than your power. No one can be
Too young to learn good acts; and, for my part,
I am not taken with a boisterous sinew,
A brawny limb or back of Hercules,
But with a soft delicious beauty; such
As people, looking on his doubtful sex,
Might think him male or female.
Ang. I cannot blame
These just Italians, to lock up their wives,
That are so free and dissolute: they labour
Not with their country's heat more than their own.
Will you be satisfied? I am too young.
Æmi. Too young! I like you the better. There is a price
Due to the early cherry: the first apples
Deserve more grace: the budding rose is set by;
But, stale and fully-blown, is left for vulgars
To rub their sweaty fingers on. Too young!
As well you may affirm the tender tree
Too young to graft upon; or you may say,
The rising sun's too young to court the day.
Ang. But there are bonds Hymen has laid upon you,
Keep us asunder.
Æmi. Those are only toys,
Shadows, mere apparitions of doubt
To affright children. Do but yield unto me,
My arms shall be thy sphere to wander in,
Circled about with spells to charm these fears;
And when thou sleep'st, Cupid shall crown thy slumbers[346]
With thousand shapes of lustful dalliance:
Then will I bathe thee in ambrosia,
And from my lips distil such nectar on thee,
Shall make thy flesh immortal.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor. How now, wife, is this your exercise?
Wife, did I say? Stain of my blood and issue,
The great antipathy unto my nature,
Courting your paramour! Death to my honour!
What have I seen and heard? Curse of my fate!
Would I had first been deaf, or thou struck dumb,
Before this Gorgon, this damn'd vision,
Had numb'd my faculties.