SCENE II.

_Enter_ PLANGUS, _as from sleep_.

PLAN. Lord! how this spirit of revenge still haunts me, And tempts me with such promis'd opportunity, And magnifies my injuries! Sometimes It calls me coward, and tells me conscience, In princes who are injur'd like myself, Is but an excuse they find for what is in truth Poorness of spirit or something baser. It tells me 'tis a sin to be good, when all The world is bad. It makes me look upon myself, whilst wearing This garb of virtue, like some old antiquary In clothes that are out of fashion in Iberia. But I will not yield to it: I know it is a greater glory To a man's self (and he that courts opinion Is of a vulgar spirit) to disobey than satisfy An appetite which I know is sinful. Good Heaven, guard me, how am I tempted

_Enter_ ANDROMANA.

To put on my former temper! but thus I fling it from me.

[_Throws away his sword._