SCENE III.

_A Gallery in the same._

_Enter_ SANAZARRO.

_Sanaz._ I cannot apprehend, yet I have argued All ways I can imagine, for what reasons The great duke does employ me hither; and, What does increase the miracle, I must render A strict and true account, at my return, Of Lidia, this lord's daughter, and describe In what she's excellent, and where defective. 'Tis a hard task: he that will undergo To make a judgment of a woman's beauty, And see through all her plasterings and paintings, Had need of Lynceus' eyes, and with more ease May look, like him, through nine mud walls, than make A true discovery of her. But the intents And secrets of my prince's heart must be Served, and not search'd into.

_Enter_ CHAROMONTE.

_Char._ Most noble sir, Excuse my age, subject to ease and sloth, That with no greater speed I have presented My service with your welcome.

_Sanaz._ 'Tis more fit That I should ask your pardon, for disturbing Your rest at this unseasonable hour. But my occasions carrying me so near Your hospitable house, my stay being short too, Your goodness, and the name of friend, which you Are pleased to grace me with, gave me assurance A visit would not offend.

_Char._ Offend, my lord! I feel myself much younger for the favour. How is it with our gracious master?

_Sanaz._ He, sir, Holds still his wonted greatness, and confesses Himself your debtor, for your love and care To the prince Giovanni; and had sent Particular thanks by me, had his grace known The quick despatch of what I was design'd to Would have licensed me to see you.

_Char._ I am rich In his acknowledgment.

_Sanaz._ I have heard Your happiness in a daughter.

_Char._ Sits the wind there? [_Aside._

_Sanaz._ Fame gives her out for a rare masterpiece.

_Char._ 'Tis a plain village girl, sir, but obedient; That's her best beauty, sir.

_Sanaz._ Let my desire To see her find a fair construction from you: I bring no loose thought with me.

_Char._ You are that way, My lord, free from suspicion. Her own manners, Without an imposition from me, I hope, will prompt her to it.

_Enter_ LIDIA _and_ PETRONELLA.

As she is, She comes to make a tender of that service Which she stands bound to pay.

_Sanaz._ With your fair leave, I make bold to salute you.

_Lid._ Sir, you have it.

_Char._ How he falls off!

_Lid._ My lord, though silence best becomes a maid, And to be curious to know but what Concerns myself, and with becoming distance, May argue me of boldness, I must borrow So much of modesty, as to inquire Prince Giovanni's health.

_Sanaz._ He cannot want What you are pleased to wish him.

_Lid._ Would 'twere so! And then there is no blessing that can make A hopeful and a noble prince complete, But should fall on him. O! he was our north star, The light and pleasure of our eyes.

_Sanaz._ Where am I? I feel myself another thing! Can charms Be writ on such pure rubies[71]? her lips melt As soon as touch'd! Not those smooth gales that glide O'er happy Araby, or rich Sabæa, Creating in their passage gums and spices, Can serve for a weak simile to express The sweetness of her breath. Such a brave stature Homer bestow'd on Pallas, every limb Proportion'd to it!

_Char._ This is strange.--My lord!

_Sanaz._ I crave your pardon, and yours, matchless maid, For such I must report you.

_Petron._ There's no notice Taken all this while of me. [_Aside._

_Sanaz._ And I must add, If your discourse and reason parallel The rareness of your more than human form, You are a wonder.

_Char._ Pray you, my lord, make trial: She can speak, I can assure you; and that my presence May not take from her freedom, I will leave you: For know, my lord, my confidence dares trust her Where, and with whom, she pleases.--Petronella!

_Petron._ Yes, my good lord.

_Char._ I have employment for you. [_Exeunt_ CHAROMONTE _and_ PETRONELLA.

_Lid._ What's your will, sir?

_Sanaz._ Madam, you are so large a theme to treat of, And every grace about you offers to me Such copiousness of language, that I stand Doubtful which first to touch at. If I err, As in my choice I may, let me entreat you, Before I do offend, to sign my pardon: Let this, the emblem of your innocence, Give me assurance.

_Lid._ My hand join'd to yours, Without this superstition, confirms it. Nor need I fear you will dwell long upon me, The barrenness of the subject yielding nothing That rhetoric, with all her tropes and figures, Can amplify. Yet since you are resolved To prove yourself a courtier in my praise, As I'm a woman (and you men affirm Our sex loves to be flatter'd) I'll endure it.

_Enter_ CHAROMONTE _above_.

Now, when you please, begin.

_Sanaz._ [_turning from her._] If the great duke Made this his end to try my constant temper, Though I am vanquished, 'tis his fault, not mine; For I am flesh and blood, and have affections Like other men. Who can behold the temples, Or holy altars, but the objects work Devotion in him? And I may as well Walk over burning iron with bare feet, And be unscorch'd, as look upon this beauty Without desire, and that desire pursued too, Till it be quench'd with the enjoying those Delights, which to achieve, danger is nothing, And loyalty but a word.

_Lid._ I ne'er was proud; Nor can find I am guilty of a thought Deserving this neglect.

_Sanaz._ Suppose his greatness Loves her himself, why makes he choice of me To be his agent? It is tyranny To call one pinch'd with hunger to a feast, And at that instant cruelly deny him To taste of what he sees. Allegiance Tempted too far is like the trial of A good sword on an anvil; as that often Flies in pieces without service to the owner, So trust enforced too far proves treachery, And is too late repented.

_Lid._ Pray you, sir, Or license me to leave you, or deliver The reasons which invite you to command My tedious waiting on you.

_Char._ As I live, I know not what to think on 't. Is 't his pride, Or his simplicity?

_Sanaz._ Whither have my thoughts Carried me from myself? In this my dulness, I've lost an opportunity---- [_Turns to her; she falls off._

_Lid._ 'Tis true I was not bred in court, nor live a star there; Nor shine in rich embroideries and pearl, As they that are the mistresses of great fortunes Are every day adorn'd with----

_Sanaz._ Will you vouchsafe Your ear, sweet lady?

_Lid._ Yet I may be bold, For my integrity and fame, to rank With such as are more glorious. Though I never Did injury, yet I am sensible When I'm contemn'd and scorn'd.

_Sanaz._ Will you please to hear me?

_Lid._ O the difference of natures! Giovanni, A prince in expectation, when he lived here, Stole courtesy from heaven[72], and would not to The meanest servant in my father's house Have kept such distance.

_Sanaz._ Pray you, do not think me Unworthy of your ear: it was your beauty That turn'd me statue. I can speak, fair lady.

_Lid._ And I can hear. The harshness of your courtship Cannot corrupt my courtesy.

_Sanaz._ Will you hear me, If I speak of love?

_Lid._ Provided you be modest; I were uncivil, else.

_Char._ They are come to parley: I must observe this nearer. [_He retires._

_Sanaz._ You are a rare one, And such (but that my haste commands me hence) I could converse with ever. Will you grace me With leave to visit you again?

_Lid._ So you, At your return to court, do me the favour To make a tender of my humble service To the prince Giovanni.

_Sanaz._ Ever touching Upon that string! [_Aside._] And will you give me hope Of future happiness?

_Lid._ That, as I shall find you: The fort that's yielded at the first assault Is hardly worth the taking.

_Re-enter_ CHAROMONTE _below_.

_Sanaz._ She is a magazine of all perfection, And 'tis death to part from her, yet I must.

_Char._ A homely breakfast does attend your lordship, Such as the place affords.

_Sanaz._ No; I have feasted Already here; my thanks, and so I leave you: I will see you again.--Till this unhappy hour I was never lost; and what to do, or say, I have not yet determined. [_Aside, and exit._

_Char._ Gone so abruptly! 'Tis very strange.

_Lid._ Under your favour, sir, His coming hither was to little purpose, For any thing I heard from him.

_Char._ Take heed, Lidia! I do advise you with a father's love, And tenderness of your honour; as I would not Have you too harsh in giving entertainment, So by no means be credulous: for great men, Till they have gain'd their ends, are giants in Their promises, but, those obtain'd, weak pigmies In their performance. And it is a maxim Allow'd among them, so they may deceive, They may swear any thing; for the queen of love, As they hold constantly, does never punish, But smile at, lovers' perjuries[73].--Yet be wise too, And when you are sued to in a noble way, Be neither nice nor scrupulous.

_Lid._ All you speak, sir, I hear as oracles; nor will digress From your directions.

_Char._ So shall you keep Your fame untainted.

_Lid._ As I would my life, sir. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[71] ------------_Can charms Be writ on such pure rubies?_] This, I believe, alludes to a very old opinion, that some sorts of gems (from an inherent sanctity) could not be profaned, or applied to the purposes of magic. The notion took its rise probably from some superstitious ideas respecting the precious stones employed in the breastplate of the high-priest of the Jews.--GIFFORD.

[72] _Stole courtesy from heaven._] This is from Shakspeare; and the plain meaning of the phrase is, that the affability and sweetness of Giovanni were of a _heavenly_ kind.--GIFFORD.

[73] _Smile at lovers' perjuries._]

_Ridet hoc, inquam, Venus ipsa._

It would be as well if the queen of love had been a little more fastidious on this subject. Her facility, I fear, has done much mischief, as lovers of all ages have availed themselves of it: but she had it from her father, whose laxity of principle is well known:

------------_perjuria ridet amantûm Jupiter._ GIFFORD.