[_Exit_ ASANDER.
_Lys._ I do not know What he will hear, but this at least I know: That woman loves him, and will lie to sow Dissension 'twixt these lovers--which accomplished, The rest is easy, and I hold this Cherson In the hollow of my hand. Ha! a good thought.
I will send a message to the Lady Gycia Which shall ensure't. If she mislikes her friend, It is odds of ten to one some jealous humour Has caused it, or may grow of it.
[_Writes._
"Dear lady, Thou art wronged; the Prince Asander presently Is with Irene alone. Seek them, and wring Confession of their fault."
[_Summons a_ Messenger.
Ho there! convey These to the Lady Gycia, but stay not To tell her whence they come.
_Mess._ I go, my lord.
SCENE IV.--IRENE'S _prison._
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.