Æmi. What have you seen
Or heard more than a dialogue I read
This morning in a book?
Lor. Would thou and that book
Were both burnt for heretics! You genial powers,
Why did you send this serpent to my bosom,
To pierce me through with greater cruelty
Than Cleopatra felt from stings of adders?
Hence from my sight, thou venom to my eyes!
Would I could look thee dead, or with a frown
Dissect thee into atoms, and then hurl them
About the world to cast infection,
And blister all they light on!
Æmi. You are mad,
And rave without a cause.
Lor. O heavens! she means
To justify her sin! Can'st thou redeem
Thy lost fame and my wrongs?
Æmi. No, sir, I'll leave you;
You are too passionate.
Ang. Pray, sir, be satisfied; we meant no hurt.
Lor. What charm held back my hand, I did not let
Her foul blood out, then throw't into the air,
Whence it might mount up to the higher region,
And there convert into some fearful meteor,
To threaten all her kindred? Stay, sweet child,
For thou art virtuous: yet go, however;
Thou putt'st me in remembrance of some ill.
Diana blush'd Actæon to a stag: [Exit Ang.
What shall lust do? Chastity made horns!
I shall be grafted with a horrid pair;
And between every branch a written scroll
Shall speak my shame, that foot-boys shall discern it,
And sailors read it, as they pass along!
If I bear this, I have no soul nor spleen.
I must invent some mischief. Smallest cares
Are talkative, whilst great ones silent are.[347] [Exit.
Enter Æmilia.
Æmi. What have I done, that with a clue of lust
Have wrought myself in such a labyrinth,
Whence I shall ne'er get free? There is no wrong
Like to the breach of wedlock: those injuries
Are writ in marble, time shall ne'er rase out.
The hearts of such, if they be once divided,
Will ne'er grow one again: sooner you may
Call the spent day, or bid the stream return,
That long since slid beside you. I am lost;
Quite forfeited to shame, which till I felt,
I ne'er foresaw; so was the less prepared.
But yet, they say, a woman's wit is sudden,
And quick at an excuse. I was too foolish.
Had he confounded heaven and earth with oaths,
I might have sworn him down, or wept so truly,
That he should sooner question his own eyes,
Than my false tears: this had been worth the acting:
Or else I might have stood to the defence on't,
Been angry, and took a courage from my crimes;
But I was tame and ignorant!
Enter Lionel.