I am a woman, with a woman’s faults.
But, being woman, Phanor, I’m a wife;
And, in that I am one, I need not blush.
You have some better reason. Possibly
You dread the palace on your own account?
Phan. I dread the palace, Altemire? No, no.
I am a child of impulse. All my faults
Lie on the surface. I have naught to hide.
Such little faults as sully me you know.
Altem. Or guess.