It is not in thy nature; but distress,
From filial duty, strain'd, perhaps, too far,
Have made thee so. Remain, my love, with me;
Thou wilt forgive me when thou hast consider'd.
ZORADA.
Gored to the quick. I pray you, then, my lord,
Permit me to retire.
ROMIERO.
(She waves him off with her hand.)
Wilt thou not deign to do it?
[Exit Zorada, still motioning him not to follow her; (stopping, with clasped hands, in a thoughtful posture, after having paced several times rapidly across the room.)
I' th' scales are put, and, to all outward seeming,
The last doth kick the beam. Is it for this—
For this that I have given my freedom up,
Drawn every strong affection of my heart
To one dear point?—and this the poor return!
(After a second pause.)
My life in such a perilous circumstance.,
And now restored to her and to my home,
This is of small account. O woman, woman!
One corner of a gallant's passing fancy
Pleaseth thee well; the whole devoted heart
Of man matured is to thee as a yoke,
A cumb'rous weight from which thou would'st escape;
