[Exeunt.
ACT V., SCENE 1.
Libacer solus.
Lib. What politician was there ever yet
Who, swimming through a sea of plots and treasons,
Sank not at last i' th' very haven's mouth?
And shall I do so too? No, my thoughts prompt me,
I shall be told in story, as the first
That stood secure upon the dreadful ruins
He had thrown down beneath him. Yet I'm nigh
The precipice I strive to shun with so much care.
I have betray'd Plangus, 'tis true, and still
Have found a growing fortune; but so long
As jealousy binds up Ephorbas' thoughts
From searching deeper, deeper, 'tis not well
That Plangus lives at all: though he be disgrac'd.
H' has friends enow about the king, and they
Will find a time to pacify him, which will be
My undoing. He must not therefore live.
Andromana is of that mind too;
But how to compass it? or when perhaps
I have, what will become of me?
Nothing more usual than for those folks, who
Have by sinister means reach'd to the top
O' th' mountain of their hopes, but they throw down
And forget the power that rais'd them; indeed
Necessity enforceth them, lest others climb
By the same steps they did, and ruin them.
I must not therefore trust her womanship,
Who, though I know she cannot stand without
Me now; yet, when she's queen alone,
Fortune may alter her, and make her look
Upon me as one whose life whispers
Unto her own guilt. 'Tis not safe to be
The object of a princess' fear; then she will find
Others will be as apt to keep her up
As I to raise her. I'll prevent her first.
Time is not ripe yet; but when it is (for
I must walk on with her a little farther)
I will unravel all this labyrinth ev'n
To the king himself. Then let her accuse me,
Though she should damn herself to hell,
I know she'll be believ'd no more
Than Plangus hath been hitherto.
Thus shall I still grow great, though all the world
Be to a dreadful ruin madly hurl'd.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Plangus solus.
Plan. I can no longer hold; 'tis not i' th' power
Of fate to make me less. Bid me outstare
The sun, outrun a falling star,
Feed upon flames, or pocket up the clouds;
Or if there be a task mad Juno's hate
Could not invent to plague poor Hercules,
Impose it upon me, I'll do't without a grudge.
Condemn me to a galley, load me with chains
Whose weight may so keep me down, I can scarce
Swell under my burden to let out a sigh,
I would o'ercome all. Were there a deity
That men adore, and throw their prayers upon,
That would lend just ears to human wishes,
I would grow great by being punished, and be
A plague myself, so that when people curs'd
Beyond invention, to their prodigious rhetoric
This epiphonema should be added,
"Become as miserable as wretched Plangus."
I have been jaded, basely jaded,
By those tame fools, honour and piety,
And now am wak'd into revenge, breathing forth ruin
To those first spread this drowsiness upon
My soul. A woman! O heaven, had I been gull'd
By anything had borne the name of man!
But this will look so sordidly in story:
I shall be grown discourse for grooms and footboys,
Be balladed, and sung to filthy tunes. But do
I talk still? well, I must leave this patience.
And now, Ephorbas,
Since thou hast wrought me to this temper,
I'll be reveng'd with as much skill as thou
Hast injur'd me. I will to these presently, for
My hour-glass shall not run ten minutes longer,
And having kill'd myself before thee,
I'll pluck my heart out, tell thee all
My innocence, and leave thee hemm'd in with
A despair thicker than Egyptian darkness.
I know thou canst not choose but die for grief.
But here he is.