JUP. The love and tenderness which I have for you far exceeds a husband's; in these sweet moments, you do not realise its delicacy; You do not understand that a heart deeply in love studiously attaches itself to a hundred little trifles, and is restless over the manner of being happy. In me, fair and charming Alcmene, you see a lover and a husband; but, to speak frankly, it is the lover that appeals to me; when near you, I feel the husband restrains him. This lover, who is supremely jealous of your love, wishes your heart to abandon itself solely to him: his passion does not wish anything the husband gives him. He wishes to obtain the warmth of your love from the fountain-head, and not to owe anything to the bonds of wedlock, or to a duty which palls and makes the heart sad, for by these the sweetness of the most cherished favours is daily poisoned. This idea, in short, tosses him to and fro, and he wishes, in order to satisfy his scruples, that you would differentiate where the occasion offends him, the husband to be only for your virtue, and the lover to have the whole affection and tenderness of a heart known to be full of kindness. ALC. In truth, Amphitryon, you must be jesting, to talk thus; I should be afraid anyone who heard you would think you were not sane. JUP. There is more reason in this discourse, Alcmene, than you think. But a longer stay here would render me guilty, and time presses for my return to port. Adieu. The stern call of duty tears me away from you for a time; but, lovely Alcmene, I beseech you at least to think of the lover when you see the husband. ALC. I do not separate what the Gods unite: both husband and lover are very precious to me. CLE. O Heaven! How delightful are the caresses of an ardently cherished husband! How far my poor husband is from all this tenderness! MERC. I must tell Night she has but to furl all her sails; the Sun may now arise from his bed and put out the stars. SCENE IV CLEANTHIS, MERCURY (Mercury turns to go away) CLE. So? Is it thus you quit me? MERC. What would you have? Do you wish me not to do my duty, and follow in Amphitryon's footsteps? CLE. To separate from me so rudely as this, you villain! MERC. It is a fine subject to make a fuss about! We have still plenty of time to live together! CLE. But to go in such a churlish manner, without saying a single kind word to cheer me! MERC. Where the deuce shall I dig up silly compliments? Fifteen years of married life exhaust nonsense; we said all we had to say to each other a long time ago. CLE. Look at Amphitryon, you rascal; see how his ardour burns for Alcmene; and then blush for the little passion that you show your wife. MERC. But, gracious me! Cleanthis, they are still lovers. There comes a certain age when all this passes away; what suits them well in these early days would look ridiculous in us, old married people. It would be it fine sight to see us embracing each other, and saying sweet nothings!