Lio. You torture me too much: the fear of evil
Is worse than the event.
Æmi. Then, though my heart
Abhor the memory, I'll tell it out.—
The boy I mentioned (whatever power
Did lay on me so sad a punishment)
I did behold him with a lustful eye,
And, which is the perfection of sin,
Did woo him to my will.
Lio. Well, what of that?
You are not the first offender in that kind.
Æmi. My suit no sooner ended, but came in
My jealous husband.
Lio. That was something indeed!
Æmi. Who overheard us all.
Lio. A shrewd mischance!
Æmi. Judge with what countenance he did behold me,
Or I view him, that had so great a guilt
Hang on my brow. My looks and hot desire
Both fell together; whilst he, big with anger,
And swol'n high with revenge, hastes from my presence,
Only to study how to inflict some torture,
Which I stay to expect: and here you see
The suffering object of his cruelty.
Lio. Methinks it were an easy thing for one
That were ingenious, to retort all
On his own head, and make him ask forgiveness.
Æmi. That would be a scene indeed!