IRENE; _afterwards_ ASANDER _and_ GYCIA.
_Ire._ To think that once I loved that haughty woman!
Ah, that was long ago, before love came
To tear our lives asunder. Though her power
Can pen me here a prisoner, yet I know
That I have pierced her heart. Oh, it is sweet
To be revenged, and know that vengeance brings
Victory in its train! If I had power
To make Asander jealous of this wonder,
Then all were easy. But I know no means
Whereby from this strait prison I might sow
Suspicion of her who has never given
A shadow of cause.
_Attendant._ The Lord Asander comes.
_Enter_ ASANDER.
_Asan._ Lady, I grieve that thou art in this place,
And fain would set thee free. Tell me what cause
Has brought thee hither.
_Ire._ Ask me not, my lord;
I cannot tell thee.
_Asan._ Nay, but know I must,
To plead thy cause.
_Ire._ 'Twas too great love of thee,
The love which thou didst spurn, that brought me here.
_Asan._ But how should that be so?
_Ire._ The Lady Gycia,
Holding thee to thy promise that thou wouldst not
Go hence--no, not to close thy father's eyes--
Took umbrage that I spoke with scant respect
Of such unreasoning and unnatural bond
As that which she approves.
_Asan._ Then am I grateful
For thy good-will, and grieve that it should bring thee
To pine a prisoner here, and will essay
What reason can to free thee.
_Ire._ Thanks, my lord,
I would that _thou_ wert free. I knew the King,
And did receive much fatherly affection
From that most reverend man. I grieve to hear
That he lies sick, and would rejoice to tend him
As if I were a daughter.
_Asan._ Gentle lady,
No other voice of sympathy than thine
Have I yet heard in Cherson, and I thank thee
For thy good-will.
_Ire._ 'Tis always thine, my lord,
And more, though I should end my wretched days
In prison for thy sake.
_Asan._ I thank thee, lady,
And fain would ask of thee a greater kindness:
I would that thou wouldst tell me of thy brother.
_Ire._ My brother Theodorus? What of him?
_Asan._ This only. Did he, ere I knew my wife,
Bear towards her a great though innocent love?
_Ire._ A great though innocent love? Ay, a great love,
For certain. Spoke she not of it to thee?
_Asan._ No word!
_Ire._ Ah! yet, maybe, 'twas innocent--Nay,
I believe it, though she spoke not of it,
And 'tis the wont of wives to laugh and boast
Of innocent conquests.
_Asan._ Nay, she spoke no word.
_Ire._ And did no other of thy friends at Cherson
Tell thee? Why, 'twas the talk of all the city
How close they grew together, till thy coming
And the necessities of Cherson turned
Her eyes from him to thee.
_Asan._ And does he still
Bear love for her?
_Ire._ And does he still bear love?
Ay, passionate love. The heart which truly loves
Puts not its love aside for ends of State,
Or marriage bonds, or what the dullard law
Suffers or does not suffer, but grows stronger
For that which seeks to thwart it.
_Asan._ And did she
My wife return this love?
_Ire._ Ay, so 'twas said.
Ask me no more, I pray!
_Enter_ GYCIA _unperceived._
_Asan._ Nay, by the love
Thou bearest to me, speak!
_Gycia._ My Lord Asander,
What dost thou with this woman thus alone?
_Asan._ 'Twere best thou didst not ask.
_Gycia._ I have a right
I will be answered. First, thou didst deny
Thou knewest aught of her; then said her nature
Was such I might not call her friend, or live
With her within four walls; and now, her fault--
Which she herself proclaimed--penning her here
In a close prison, thou my husband comest
To comfort her, 'twould seem--to travel o'er
Again the old foul paths and secretly
To gloat on the old passion.
_Asan._ Nay, I came
Not for this cause, but one which I will tell thee.
I came to question of thy former love.
_Gycia._ To question _her_ of _me_?
_Asan._ To know the cause
That made my wife, scarce one short hour ago,
Within my home, when hardly I had left her,
Receive alone a lover kneeling to her
With words of passionate love, and whisper to him,
"I am a wife."
_Gycia._ Hast thou no shame, Asander,
To speak such words to me before this woman,
Who knows her brother's life?
_Ire._ Nay, prithee, madam,
Appeal not to me thus; I could say much
On which I would keep silence.
_Gycia._ Thou base woman,
And thou poor dupe or most perfidious man,
It were to honour ye to make defence
Against a wanton and her paramour;
But thee, Asander, never will I take
To my heart again, till thou hast put from thee
This lying accusation, and dost ask
Pardon that thou hast dared with this base wretch
To impugn my honour.
_Asan._ Thou hast said no word
Of answer to my charge; thy bold defiance
Argues thy guilt.
_Gycia._ My guilt? And canst thou dare
To say this thing to me? I will speak no word;
Denial were disgrace. Sir, I will have you
Leave this place quickly.
_Asan._ Madam, I obey you.
[_Exit._
_Gycia._ And I too go.
[_Exit._
_Ire._ I hold these hapless fools
In the hollow of my hand.