PLAN. 'Tis for them to speak are sure to be believ'd, And not for him that is condemn'd as guilty. Words can excuse slight faults. If mine are esteem'd such, that all my actions, A speaking duty of one-and-twenty years, Speak not enough to clear me, silence shall. I've no more to say, therefore, but To bid you do your duty to the king, And ask him pardon for this[103] intemperate zeal: Heav'n knows I wish'd it not, nor would I buy My safety at one of my father's angry thoughts, Much less his fears, for those I fall by. Obey my father, and if ye love me, gentlemen, Shed not one tear for Plangus. For I am timely taken from those plagues This woman's crying sins must bring upon Iberia, and make you wish that you Had died as soon and innocent as I. AND. That I was nothing, I confess; that what I am, I owe to Ephorbas; nay, that the greatness I am now in tells me it is too high To be secure, my fears bear witness. I wish my life would excuse Plangus his; at least My blood wash off the blackness of his guilt, Heav'n knows it should not be one minute, ere He should be restor'd to his former virtues; But since it cannot be, I'll in and weep-- Not for myself, but him. [_Exit._ INO. Millions of plagues go with thee. Sir [_To_ PLANGUS], you shall Along with us; we will not trust you Or to the king or her. [_Exeunt._ ACT V., SCENE 1. LIBACER _solus_. LIB. What politician was there ever yet Who, swimming through a sea of plots and treasons, Sank not at last i' th' very haven's mouth? And shall I do so too? No, my thoughts prompt me, I shall be told in story, as the first That stood secure upon the dreadful ruins He had thrown down beneath him. Yet I'm nigh The precipice I strive to shun with so much care. I have betray'd Plangus, 'tis true, and still Have found a growing fortune; but so long As jealousy binds up Ephorbas' thoughts From searching deeper, deeper, 'tis not well That Plangus lives at all: though he be disgrac'd. H' has friends enow about the king, and they Will find a time to pacify him, which will be My undoing. He must not therefore live. Andromana is of that mind too; But how to compass it? or when perhaps I have, what will become of me? Nothing more usual than for those folks, who Have by sinister means reach'd to the top O' th' mountain of their hopes, but they throw down And forget the power that rais'd them; indeed Necessity enforceth them, lest others climb By the same steps they did, and ruin them. I must not therefore trust her womanship, Who, though I know she cannot stand without Me now; yet, when she's queen alone, Fortune may alter her, and make her look Upon me as one whose life whispers Unto her own guilt. 'Tis not safe to be The object of a princess' fear; then she will find Others will be as apt to keep her up As I to raise her. I'll prevent her first. Time is not ripe yet; but when it is (for I must walk on with her a little farther) I will unravel all this labyrinth ev'n To the king himself.