[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——