ugh 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
T