ACT IV. SCENE I.

Giov. I am, sir,
A novice in my judgment of a lady;
But such as 'tis, your grace shall have it freely.
I would not speak ill of her, and am sorry,
If I keep myself a friend to truth, I cannot
Report her as I would, so much I owe
Her reverend father: but I'll give you, sir,
As near as I can, her character in little.
She's of a goodly stature, and her limbs
Not disproportion'd; for her face, it is
Far from deformity; yet they flatter her,
That style it excellent: her manners are
Simple and innocent; but her discourse
And wit deserve my pity, more than praise:
At the best, my lord, she is a handsome picture,
And, that said, all is spoken.

Giov. Nor ever shall, sir.—
Forgive me, matchless Lidia! too much love,
And jealous fear to lose thee, do compel me,
Against my will, my reason, and my knowledge,
To be a poor detractor of that beauty,
Which fluent Ovid, if he lived again,
Would want words to express. [Aside.

Coz. Pray you, make choice of
The richest of our furniture for these horses,
[To Sanazarro.
And take my nephew with you; we in this
Will follow his directions.

Giov. Could I find now
The princess Fiorinda, and persuade her
To be silent in the suit that I moved to her,
All were secure.

Coz. We will be private; leave us.
[Exeunt all but Cozimo.
All my studies
And serious meditations aim no further
Than this young man's good. He was my sister's son,
And she was such a sister, when she lived,
I could not prize too much; nor can I better
Make known how dear I hold her memory,
Than in my cherishing the only issue
Which she hath left behind her. Who's that?

Fior. Your gracious care to me, an orphan, frees me
From all suspicion that my jealous fears
Can drive into my fancy.

Coz. The next summer,
In our own person, we will bring you thither,
And seat you in your own.

Fior. When you think fit, sir.
But, in the mean time, with your highness' pardon,
I am a suitor to you.

Fior. That you would please
To lay a strict command on Charomonte,
To bring his daughter Lidia to the court:
And pray you, think, sir, that 'tis not my purpose
To employ her as a servant, but to use her
As a most wish'd companion.

Fior. The hopeful prince, your nephew, sir, hath given her
To me for such an abstract of perfection
In all that can be wish'd for in a virgin,
As beauty, music, ravishing discourse,
Quickness of apprehension, with choice manners
And learning too, not usual with women,
That I am much ambitious (though I shall
Appear but as a foil to set her off)
To be by her instructed, and supplied
In what I am defective.

Fior. I assure your grace,
With zeal and vehemency; and, even when,
With his best words, he strived to set her forth,
(Though the rare subject made him eloquent,)
He would complain, all he could say came short
Of her deservings.

Coz. Pray you have patience. [Walks aside.
This was strangely carried.—Ha! are we trifled with?
Dare they do this? Is Cozimo's fury, that
Of late was terrible, grown contemptible?
Well; we will clear our brows, and undermine
Their secret works, though they have digg'd like moles,
And crush them with the tempest of my wrath
When I appear most calm. He is unfit
To command others that knows not to use it [77],
And with all rigour: yet my stern looks shall not
Discover my intents; for I will strike
When I begin to frown.——You are the mistress
Of that you did demand.

Fior. I thank your highness;
But speed in the performance of the grant
Doubles the favour, sir.

Coz. You shall possess it
Sooner than you expect:——
Only be pleased to be ready, when my secretary
Waits on you, to take the fresh air. My nephew,
And my bosom friend, so to cheat me! 'tis not fair.
[Aside.

Sanaz. Where should this princess be? nor in her lodgings,
Nor in the private walks, her own retreat,
Which she so much frequented!

Giov. By my life,
She's with the duke! and I much more than fear
Her forwardness to prefer my suit hath ruin'd
What with such care we built up.

Coz. 'Tis well: to your rest. Soft sleeps wait on you, madam.
To-morrow, with the rising of the sun,
Be ready to ride with us.—They with more safety
Had trod on fork-tongued adders, than provoked me. [Aside, and exit.

Fior. I come not to be thank'd, sir, for the speedy
Performance of my promise touching Lidia:
It is effected.

Fior. The duke
No sooner heard me with my best of language
Describe her excellencies, as you taught me,
But he confirm'd it.—You look sad, as if
You wish'd it were undone.

Fior. Be you as careful
For what I moved to you.—Count Sanazarro,
Now I perceive you honour me, in vouchsafing
To wear so slight a favour.

Fior. You merit more,
In prizing so a trifle. Take this diamond;
I'll second what I have begun; for know,
Your valour hath so won upon me, that
'Tis not to be resisted: I have said, sir,
And leave you to interpret it. [Exit.

Sanaz. This to me
Is wormwood. 'Tis apparent we are taken
In our own noose. What's to be done?

Giov. I know not.
And 'tis a punishment justly fallen upon me,
For leaving truth, a constant mistress, that
Ever protects her servants, to become
A slave to lies and falsehood. What excuse
Can we make to the duke, what mercy hope for,
Our packing [78] being laid open?

Sanaz. 'Tis not to
Be question'd but his purposed journey is
To see fair Lidia.

Sanaz. Give me leave: I have
An embryon in my brain, which, I despair not,
May be brought to form and fashion, provided
You will be open-breasted.

Giov. 'Tis no time now,
Our dangers being equal, to conceal
A thought from you.

Sanaz. What power hold you o'er Lidia?
Do you think that, with some hazard of her life,
She would prevent your ruin?

Giov. I presume so:
If, in the undertaking it, she stray not
From what becomes her innocence; and to that
'Tis far from me to press her: I myself
Will rather suffer.

Sanaz. 'Tis enough; this night
Write to her by your servant Calandrino,
As I shall give directions; my man

Shall bear him company. See, sir, to my wish
He does appear; but much transform'd from what
He was when he came hither.

Cal. I confess
I am not very wise, and yet I find
A fool, so he be parcel knave, in court
May flourish and grow rich.

Cal. I tell thee, no; on forfeit of my place,
I must not know myself, much less my father,
But by petition; that petition lined too
With golden birds, that sing to the tune of profit,
Or I am deaf.

Cal. I have all that's requisite
To the making up of a signior: my spruce ruff,
My hooded cloak, long stocking, and paned hose,
My case of toothpicks, and my silver fork [79];
To convey an olive neatly to my mouth;—
And, what is all in all, my pockets ring
A golden peal. O that the peasants in the country,
My quondam fellows, but saw me as I am,
How they would admire and worship me!

Cal. My grand signior,
Vouchsafe a beso las manos [80], and a cringe
Of the last edition.

Cal. That you would give me
A subtile court-charm, to defend me from
The infectious air of the country.

Cal. Why, as this court-air taught me knavish wit,
By which I am grown rich, if that again
Should turn me fool and honest, vain hopes farewell!
For I must die a beggar.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Char. Daughter, I have observed, since the prince left us,
(Whose absence I mourn with you,) and the visit
Count Sanazarro gave us, you have nourish'd
Sad and retired thoughts, and parted with
That freedom and alacrity of spirit
With which you used to cheer me.

Lid. For the count, sir,
All thought of him does with his person die;
But I confess ingenuously, I cannot
So soon forget the choice and chaste delights,
The courteous conversation of the prince,
And without stain, I hope, afforded me,
When he made this house a court.

Char. It is in us
To keep it so without him. Want we know not,
And all we can complain of, Heaven be praised for 't,
Is too much plenty; and we will make use of

Cap. In the afternoon, sir.
'Tis a device, I wis, of my own making,
And such a one, as shall make your signiorship know
I have not been your butler for nothing, but
Have crotchets in my head. We'll trip it tightly,
And make my sad young mistress merry again,
Or I'll forswear the cellar.

Bern. If we had
Our fellow Calandrino here, to dance
His part, we were perfect.

Cap. When I was young,
I could have cut a caper on a pinnacle;
But now I am old and wise.—Keep your figure fair,
And follow but the sample I shall set you,
The duke himself will send for us, and laugh at us;
And that were credit.

Cal. I find
What was brawn in the country, in the court grows tender.
The bots on these jolting jades! I am bruised to jelly.
A coach for my money!

Cal. Now to my postures.—Let my hand have the honour
To convey a kiss from my lips to the cover of
Your foot, dear signior.

Cal. The hem of your vestment, lady: your glove is for princes;
Nay, I have conn'd my distances.

Cal. Be not so rustic in your salutations.
Signior Bernardo, master of the accounts.
Signior Petruchio, may you long continue
Your function in the chamber!

Cal. Basta! they are mysteries.
And not to be reveal'd. With your favour, signior,
I am, in private, to confer awhile
With this signora: but I'll pawn my honour,
That neither my terse language, nor my habit,
Howe'er it may convince, nor my new shrugs,
Shall render her enamour'd.

Char. Take your pleasure;
A little of these apish tricks may pass,
Too much is tedious. [Exit.

Cal. The prince, in this paper,
Presents his service. Nay, it is not courtly
To see the seal broke open; so I leave you.—
Signiors of the villa, I'll descend to be
Familiar with you.

Cal. As I like the project.
Let me warm my brains first with the richest grape,
And then I'm for you.

Lid. That this comes only from the best of princes,
With a kind of adoration does command me
To entertain it; and the sweet contents
[Kissing the letter.
That are inscribed here by his hand must be
Much more than musical to me. All the service
Of my life at no part can deserve this favour.
O, what a virgin longing I feel on me
To unrip the seal, and read it! yet, to break
What he hath fastened, rashly, may appear
A saucy rudeness in me.—I must do it,
(Nor can I else learn his commands, or serve them,)
But with such reverence, as I would open
Some holy writ, whose grave instructions beat down
Rebellious sins, and teach my better part
How to mount upward.—So, [opens the letter] 'tis done, and I
With eagle's eyes will curiously peruse it. [Reads.

Chaste Lidia, the favours are so great
On me by you conferr'd, that to entreat
The least addition to them, in true sense
May argue me of blushless impudence.
But, such are my extremes, if you deny
A further grace, I must unpitied die.
Haste cuts off circumstance. As you're admired
For beauty; the report of it hath fired
The duke my uncle, and, I fear, you'll prove,
Not with a sacred, but unlawful love.
If he see you as you are, my hoped-for light
Is changed into an everlasting night;
How to prevent it, if your goodness find,
You save two lives, and me you ever bind,
The honourer of your virtues, Giovanni.

Were I more deaf than adders, these sweet charms
Would through my ears find passage to my soul,
And soon enchant it. To save such a prince,
Who would not perish? Virtue in him must suffer,
And piety be forgotten. The duke's passion,
Though it raged more than Tarquin's, shall not reach me.
All quaint inventions of chaste virgins aid me!
My prayers are heard; I have 't. The duke ne'er saw me—
Or, if that fail, I am again provided—
But for the servants!—They will take what form
I please to put upon them. Giovanni,
Be safe; thy servant Lidia assures it.
Let mountains of afflictions fall on me,
Their weight is easy, so I set thee free. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Char. This day shall be ever
A holiday to me, that brings my prince
Under my humble roof. [Weeps.

Coz. Dry them up, Charomonte;
And all forbear the room, while we exchange
Some private words together.

Giov. In forgetting to acquaint
My guardian with our purpose: all that Lidia
Can do avails us nothing, if the duke
Find out the truth from him.

Sanaz. 'Tis now past help,
And we must stand the hazard:—hope the best, sir.
[Exeunt Giovanni, Sanazarro, and Attendants.

Coz. 'Tis more. Thou hast
Abused our trust, and in a high degree
Committed treason.

Char. Treason! 'Tis a word
My innocence understands not. Were my breast
Transparent, and my thoughts to be discern'd,
Not one spot shall be found to taint the candour
Of my allegiance: and I must be bold
To tell you, sir, (for he that knows no guilt
Can know no fear,) 'tis tyranny to o'ercharge
An honest man; and such, till now, I've lived,
And such, my lord, I'll die.

Coz. Sir, do not flatter
Yourself with hope, these great and glorious words,
Which every guilty wretch, as well as you,
That's arm'd with impudence, can with ease deliver,
And with as full a mouth, can work on us:
Nor shall gay flourishes of language clear
What is in fact apparent.

Char. Fact! what fact?
You, that know only what it is, instruct me,
For I am ignorant.

Coz. This, then, sir: We gave up,
On our assurance of your faith and care,
Our nephew Giovanni, nay, our heir
In expectation, to be train'd up by you
As did become a prince.

Coz. Take us with you, sir [82].
And, in respect we knew his youth was prone
To women, and that, living in our court,
He might make some unworthy choice, before
His weaker judgment was confirm'd, we did
Remove him from it; constantly presuming,
You, with your best endeavours, rather would
Have quench'd those heats in him, than light a torch,
As you have done, to his looseness.

Char. I! my travail
Is ill requited, sir; for, by my soul,
I was so curious that way, that I granted
Access to none could tempt him; nor did ever
One syllable, or obscene accent, touch
His ear, that might corrupt him.

Coz. No! Why, then,
With your allowance, did you give free way
To all familiar privacy between
My nephew and your daughter? Or why did you
(Had you no other ends in 't but our service)
Read to them, and together, as they had been
Scholars of one form, grammar, rhetoric,
Philosophy, story [83], and interpret to them
The close temptations of lascivious poets?
Or wherefore, for we still had spies upon you,
Was she still present, when, by your advice,
He was taught the use of his weapon, horsemanship,
Nay, wrestling, but to fan a love in her?
And then, forsooth, his exercises ended,
A fair pretence of recreation for him,
(When Lidia was instructed in those graces
That add to beauty,) he, brought to admire her,
Must hear her sing, while to her voice her hand
Made ravishing music; and, this applauded, dance
A light lavolta [84] with her.

Coz. Nor stopt you there,
But they must unattended walk into
The silent groves, and hear the amorous birds
Warbling their wanton notes; here, a sure shade
Of barren sicamores, which the all-seeing sun
Could not pierce through; near that, an arbour hung
With spreading eglantine; there, a bubbling spring
Watering a bank of hyacinths and lilies;
With all allurements that could move to love.
And could this, Charomonte, (should I grant
They had been equals both in birth and fortune,)
Become your gravity? nay, 'tis clear as air,
That your ambitious hopes to match your daughter
Into our family, gave connivance to it:
And this, though not in act, in the intent
I call high treason.

Char. Hear my just defence, sir;
And, though you are my prince, it will not take from
Your greatness, to acknowledge with a blush,
In this my accusation you have been
More sway'd by spleen, and jealous suppositions,
Than certain grounds of reason. You had a father,
(Blest be his memory!) that made frequent proofs
Of my loyalty and faith, and, would I boast
The dangers I have broke through in his service,
I could say more. Nay, you yourself, dread sir,
Whenever I was put unto the test,
Found me true gold, and not adulterate metal;
And am I doubted now?

Char. I will come to it, sir: Your grace well knew,
Before the prince's happy presence made
My poor house rich, the chiefest blessing which
I gloried in, though now it prove a curse,
Was an only daughter. Nor did you command me,
As a security to your future fears,
To cast her off: which had you done, howe'er
She was the light of my eyes, and comfort of
My feeble age, so far I prized my duty
Above affection, she now had been
A stranger to my care. But she is fair!
Is that her fault, or mine? Did ever father
Hold beauty in his issue for a blemish?
You may, if you think fit, before my face,
In recompense of all my watchings for you,
With burning corrosives transform her to
An ugly leper. This I will rather suffer, sir,
Than live suspected by you.

Char. I am calm, sir;
Yet you must give me leave to grieve I find
My actions misinterpreted. Alas! sir,
Was Lidia's desire to serve the prince
Call'd an offence? or did she practise to
Seduce his youth, because with her best zeal
And fervour she endeavour'd to attend him?
'Tis a hard construction. Though she be my daughter,
I may thus far speak her: from her infancy
She was ever civil, her behaviour nearer
Simplicity than craft; and malice dares not
Affirm, in one loose gesture, or light language,
She gave a sign she was in thought unchaste.
I'll fetch her to you, sir; and but look on her
With equal eyes, you must in justice grant
That your suspicion wrongs her.

Coz. It may be;
But I must have stronger assurance of it
Than passionate words: and, not to trifle time,
As we came unexpected to your house,
We will prevent all means that may prepare her
How to answer that with which we come to charge her.
And howsoever it may be received
As a foul breach to hospitable rites,
On thy allegiance and boasted faith,
Nay, forfeit of thy head, we do confine thee
Close prisoner to thy chamber till all doubts
Are clear'd that do concern us.

Char. I obey, sir,
And wish your grace had followed my hearse
To my sepulchre, my loyalty unsuspected,
Rather than now——But I am silent, sir,
And let that speak my duty [85]. [Exit.

Coz. If this man
Be false, disguised treachery ne'er put on
A shape so near to truth. Within, there!

Re-enter Giovanni and Sanazarro, ushering in Petronella. Calandrino and others setting forth a Banquet.

Coz. The manners of her mind
Must be transcendent, if they can defend
Her rougher outside. May we with your liking
Salute you, lady?

Petron. Let me wipe my mouth, sir,
With my cambric handkerchief, and then have at you.

Petron. Will your dukeship
Sit down and eat some sugar-plums? Here's a castle
Of march-pane [86] too; and this quince-marmalade was
Of my own making; all summ'd up together,
Did cost the setting on: and here is wine too,
As good as e'er was tapp'd. I'll be your taster,
For I know the fashion. [Drinks all off.]—Now you must do me right, sir;
You shall nor will nor choose.

Petron. Still when I am thirsty, and eat when I am hungry:
Such junkets come not every day. Once more to you,
With a heart and a half, i' faith.

Coz. I'll find you out a pledge
That shall supply my place: what think you of
This complete signior? You are a Juno,
And in such state must feast this Jupiter:
What think you of him?

Coz. Take your place, then:
[Calandrino takes the duke's chair.
We are amazed.

Sanaz. The duke is too sharp-sighted
To be deluded thus.

Cal. Nay, pray you eat fair;
Or divide, and I will choose. Cannot you use
Your fork, as I do? Gape, and I will feed you.
[Feeds her.
Gape wider yet; this is courtlike.

Coz. What a sight is this! We could be angry with you.
How much you did belie her when you told us
She was only simple! this is barbarous rudeness,
Beyond belief.

Sanaz. And I, my lord, chose rather
To deliver her better parted [87] than she is,
Than to take from her.

Cap. Ere I'll lose my dance,
I'll speak to the purpose. I am, sir, no prologue;
But in plain terms must tell you we are provided
Of a lusty hornpipe.

Cap. But to make up the medley,
For it is of several colours, we must borrow
Your grace's ghost here.

Cal. Pray you, sir, depose me;
It will not do else. I am, sir, the engine
[Rises, and resigns his chair.
By which it moves.

Coz. Begin then.—[They dance.]—There's more in this
Than yet I have discover'd. Some Œdipus
Resolve this riddle.

Coz. As I live, stark drunk! away with her. We'll reward you
[Exeunt Servants with Petronella.
When you have cool'd yourselves in the cellar.

Coz. We pity Charomonte's wretched fortune
In a daughter, nay, a monster. Good old man!—
The place grows tedious; our remove shall be
With speed: we'll only, in a word or two,
Take leave, and comfort him.

Sanaz. 'Twill rather, sir,
Increase his sorrow, that you know his shame;
Your grace may do it by letter.

Coz. These are strange chimeras to us: what to judge of 't,
Is past our apprehension. One command
Charomonte to attend us. [Exit an Attendant.]
Can it be
That Contarino could be so besotted,
As to admire this prodigy! or her father
To dote upon it! Or does she personate,
For some ends unknown to us, this rude behaviour,
Which, in the scene presented, would appear
Ridiculous and impossible?—O, you are welcome.

We now acknowledge the much wrong we did you
In our unjust suspicion. We have seen
The wonder, sir, your daughter.

Char. And have found her
Such as I did report her. What she wanted
In courtship [88], was, I hope, supplied in civil
And modest entertainment.

Coz. Pray you, tell us,
And truly, we command you—Did you never
Observe she was given to drink?

Char. I will pull them out, sir,
If your grace can make this good. And if you please
To grant me liberty, as she is I'll fetch her,
And in a moment.

Coz. Such contrarieties were never read of.
Charomonte is no fool; nor can I think
His confidence built on sand. We are abused,
'Tis too apparent.

Lid. I am indisposed, sir;
And that life you once tender'd, much endanger'd
In forcing me from my chamber.

Char. Here she is, sir;
Suddenly sick, I grant; but sure, not drunk:
Speak to my lord the duke.

Char. And my heir, sir;
Nor keep I any woman in my house
(Unless for sordid offices) but one
I do maintain, trimm'd up in her cast habits,
To make her sport: and she, indeed, loves wine,
And will take too much of it; and, perhaps, for mirth,
She was presented to you.

Coz. It shall yield
No sport to the contrivers. 'Tis too plain now.
Her presence does confirm what Contarino
Deliver'd of her; nor can sickness dim
The splendour of her beauties: being herself, then,
She must exceed his praise.

Coz. Here are accents
Whose every syllable is musical!
Pray you, let me raise you, and awhile rest here.
False Sanazarro, treacherous Giovanni!
But stand we talking!——

Coz. Then, by that oath we charge thee,
Without excuse, denial, or delay,
To apprehend, and suddenly, Sanazarro,
And our ingrateful nephew. We have said it.
Do it without reply, or we pronounce thee,
Like them, a traitor to us. See them guarded
In several lodgings, and forbid access
To all, but when we warrant. Is our will
Heard sooner than obey'd?

Coz. Be severe in 't.—
O my abused lenity! from what height
Is my power fall'n!

Lid. O me most miserable!
That, being innocent, makes others guilty.
Most gracious prince——

Lid. My knees shall first be rooted in this earth,
And, Myrrha-like, I'll grow up to a tree,
Dropping perpetual tears of sorrow, which
Harden'd by the rough wind, and turn'd to amber,
Unfortunate virgins like myself shall wear,
Before I'll make petition to your greatness,
But with such reverence, my hands held up thus,
As I would do to heaven. You princes are
As gods on earth to us, and to be sued to
With such humility, as his deputies
May challenge from their vassals.

Coz. Here's that form
Of language I expected; pray you, speak:
What is your suit?

Lid. That you look upon me
As an humble thing, that millions of degrees
Is placed beneath you: for what am I, dread sir,
Or what can fall in the whole course of my life,
That may be worth your care, much less your trouble?
As the lowly shrub is to the lofty cedar,
Or a molehill to Olympus, if compared,
I am to you, sir. Or, suppose the prince,
(Which cannot find belief in me,) forgetting
The greatness of his birth and hopes, hath thrown
An eye of favour on me, in me punish,
That am the cause, the rashness of his youth.
Shall the queen of the inhabitants of the air,
The eagle, that bears thunder on her wings,
In her angry mood destroy her hopeful young,
For suffering a wren to perch too near them?
Such is our disproportion.

Lid. For me, poor maid,
I know the prince to be so far above me,
That my wishes cannot reach him. Yet I am
So much his creature, that, to fix him in
Your wonted grace and favour, I'll abjure
His sight for ever, and betake myself
To a religious life, (where in my prayers
I may remember him,) and ne'er see man more,
But my ghostly father. Will you trust me, sir?
In truth I'll keep my word; or, if this fail,
A little more of fear what may befall him
Will stop my breath for ever.

Coz. Had you thus argued [Raises her.
As you were yourself, and brought as advocates
Your health and beauty to make way for you,
No crime of his could put on such a shape
But I should look with the eyes of mercy on it.
What would I give to see this diamond
In her perfect lustre, as she was before
The clouds of sickness dimm'd it! Yet, take comfort;
And, as you would obtain remission for
His treachery to me, cheer your drooping spirits,
And call the blood again into your cheeks,
And then plead for him; and in such a habit
As in your highest hopes you would put on,
If we were to receive you for our bride.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Sanaz. 'Tis proved in me: the curse of human frailty,
Adding to our afflictions, makes us know
What's good; and yet our violent passions force us
To follow what is ill. Reason assured me
It was not safe to shave a lion's skin;
And that to trifle with a sovereign was
To play with lightning: yet imperious beauty,
Treading upon the neck of understanding,
Compell'd me to put off my natural shape
Of loyal duty, to disguise myself
In the adulterate and cobweb-mask
Of disobedient treachery. Where is now
My borrow'd greatness, or the promised lives
Of following courtiers echoing my will?
In a moment vanish'd! Power that stands not on
Its proper base, which is peculiar only
To absolute princes, falls or rises with
Their frown or favour. The great duke, my master,
(Who almost changed me to his other self,)
No sooner takes his beams of comfort from me,
But I, as one unknown, or unregarded,
Unpitied suffer. Who makes intercession
To his mercy for me now? who does remember
The service I have done him? not a man:
And such as spake no language but my lord
The favourite of Tuscany's grand duke,
Deride my madness.—Ha! what noise of horses?
[He looks out at the back window.
A goodly troop! This back part of my prison
Allows me liberty to see and know them.
Contarino! yes, 'tis he, and Lodovico [89]:
And the duchess Fiorinda, Urbin's heir,
A princess I have slighted: yet I wear
Her favours; and, to teach me what I am,
She whom I scorn'd can only mediate for me.
This way she makes, yet speak to her I dare not;
And how to make suit to her is a task
Of as much difficulty.—Yes, thou blessed pledge
[Takes off the ring.
Of her affection, aid me! This supplies
The want of pen and ink; and this, of paper.
[Takes a pane of glass.
It must be so; and I in my petition
Concise and pithy. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Contarino, leading in Fiorinda, Alphonso, Hippolito, Hieronimo, and Calaminta.

Hip. Signior Charomonte,
To see your excellence his guest, will think
Himself most happy.

Fior. Tie my shoe.—[The pane falls down.]—What's that?
A pane thrown from the window, no wind stirring!