Plan. It cannot be so late.
And. Believe't, the sun is set, my dear,
And candles have usurp'd the office of the day.
Plan. Indeed, methinks a certain mist,
Like darkness, hangeth[81] on my eyelids.
But too great lustre may undo the sight:
A man may stare so long upon the sun
That he may look his eyes out; and certainly
'Tis so with me: I have so greedily
Swallow'd thy light that I have spoil'd my own.
And. Why shouldst thou tempt me to my ruin thus?
As if thy presence were less welcome to me
Than day to one who, 'tis so long ago
He saw the sun, hath forgot what light is.
Love of thy presence makes me wish this absence.
Phœbus himself must suffer an eclipse,
And clouds are still foils to the brightest splendour:
Some short departure will (like [to] a river
Stopp'd) make the current of our pleasures run
The higher at our next meeting.
Plan. Alas, my dearest! tell those so
That know not what it is to part from blessing;
Bid not him surfeit to taste health's sweetness,
That knows what 'tis to groan under a disease.
And. Then let us stand and outface danger,
Since you will have it so; despise report,
And contemn scandals into nothing,
Which vanish with the breath that utters 'em;
Love is above these vanities. Should the
Innocent thing my husband take thee here,
He could not spite me but by growing jealous;
And jealousy's black[est] effect would be a cloister,
Perhaps to kill me too: but that's impossible—
I cannot die so long as Plangus loves me.
Yet say this piece of earth should play the coward,
And fall at some unlucky stroke,
Love would transport my better half to its centre
[In] Plangus' heart, and I should live in him.
But, sir, you have a fame to lose, which should be
A prince's only care and darling: which
Should have an eternity beyond his life:
If he should take that from you, I should be
Killed indeed.
Plan. Why dost thou use
These arguments to bid me go,
Yet chain me to thy tongue, while the angel-like
Music of thy voice, ent'ring my thirsty ears,
Charms up my fears to immobility?
'Tis more impossible for me to leave thee
Than for this carcase to quoit[82] away its gravestone,
When it lies destitute of a soul t' inform it.
Mariners might with far greater ease
Hear whole shoals of Sirens singing,
And not leap out to their destruction,
Than I forsake so dangerous a sweetness.
And. I will be dumb then.
Plan. I will be deaf first. I have thought a way now,
I'll run from hence, and leave my soul behind me.
It shall be so—and yet it shall not neither:
What! shall a husband banish a prince his house
For fear? A husband! 'tis but an airy title;
I will command there shall be no such thing,
And then Andromana is mine, or his,
Or any man's she will herself. These ceremonies
Fetter the world, and I was born to free it.
Shall man, that noble creature, be afraid
Of words, things himself made? Shall sounds,
A thing of seven small letters, give check
T'a prince's will?
And. Did you not promise me, dear sir?
Have you not sworn, too, you would not stay
beyond the time?
Have oaths no more validity with princes?
Let me not think so.