Evermore lenient. I am beset with doubts,
Nor do I know which way to turn myself.
Mys. Nor do I know which way to turn myself.
I must address him, must speak of my mistress,
If he do not ask first. When the mind doubts
And vacillates, a pin may turn the scale.
Pam. Who speaks? Ah, Mysis, salvè.
Mys. Salvè, master.
Pam. How goes it?
Mys. Dost thou ask? She is in labour,
And in distress of mind—for, as she bears,
They marry you to-day unto another,
And she in fear that you abandon her.
Pam. How can she fear so? Can she think that I
Would suffer she should suffer misery.
She who has given all to me—herself,
Her soul, loved me exceedingly—my wife.
She, nurtured in the gentlest fantasy,
As modest as well educated—she
To suffer want, to bear indignity,
By my soul, never!
Mys. If upon you alone
The thing depended—but you must oppose
Coercion.
Pam. Am I a beast—inhuman,
Ungrateful, barbarous—that fond possession,
Love, honour, all things binding to the soul
Should let me break my faith?
Mys. And one thing more,
Her worth and merit you should not forget.
Pam. Forget her worth and merit—Mysis, Mysis,
