In too good estate if I knew what I did.
But why ask you, madam?
Fran. It much amazes me35
To think how you came hither, and what could bring you
T'endanger thus my honour and your own life!
Nothing but saving of my brother could make
Me now preserve you.
Bren. Reproach me not the follies you yourself40
Make me commit.
I am reduc'd to such extremity,
That Love himself (high tyrant as he is),
If he could see, would pity me.
Fran. I understand you not.45
Bren. Would heaven you did, for 'tis a pain to tell you:
I come t' accuse you of injustice, madam!
You first begot my passion, and was
Content (at least you seem'd so) it should live;
Yet since would ne'er contribute unto it,50
Not look upon't; as if you had desired
Its being for no other end, but for
The pleasure of its ruin.
Fran. Why do you labour thus, to make me guilty of
An injury to you—to you, which, when55
It is one, all mankind is alike engag'd,
And must have quarrel to me?
Bren. I have done ill; you chide me justly, madam.
I'll lay't not on you, but on my wretched self;
For I am taught that heavenly bodies60
Are not malicious in their influence,
But by the disposition of the subject.
They tell me you must marry Almerin?
Sure, such excellency ought to be
The recompense of virtue, not the sacrifice65
Of parents' wisdom. Should it not, madam?
Fran. 'Twould injure me were it thought otherwise.
Bren. And shall he have you then, that knew you yesterday?
Is there in martyrdom no juster way,
But he, that holds a finger in the fire70
A little time, should have the crown from them,
That have endur'd the flame with constancy?
Fran. If the discovery will ease your thoughts,
