University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

To him BIRENO, with a Lanthorn.
BIRENO.
Your pardon, Sir; I fear I've made you wait—
But here, beneath the window of his mistress,
A lover favour'd, and assur'd like you,
Must have a thousand pleasant fantasies
To entertain his musing.

PALADORE.
Sir, my fancy
Has various meditations; no one thought
Mix'd with disloyalty of her whose honour
Your boldness wou'd attaint.

BIRENO.
Then you hold firm,
I am a boaster?

PALADORE.
'Tis my present creed.

BIRENO.
'Twere kind, perhaps, to leave you in that error.
The wretch who dreams of bliss, while his sleep lasts,
Is happy as in waking certainty;
But if he's rous'd, and rous'd to misery,
He sure must curse the hand that shook his curtain.

PALADORE.
I have no time for maxims, and your mirth
Is most unseasonable. Thus far to endure
Perhaps is too much tameness.—To the purpose—

BIRENO.
With all convenient speed. You're not to learn,
We have a law peculiar to this realm,
That subjects to a mortal penalty,
All women nobly born (be their estate
Single or husbanded) who to the shame
Of chastity, o'er-leap its thorny bounds,
To wanton in the flowery path of pleasure.
Nor is the proper issue of the king
By royalty exempted.

PALADORE.
So I have heard.
But wherefore urge you this?

BIRENO.
Not without reason.
I draw my sword in peace. Now place your lips
Here on this sacred cross. By this deep oath,
Most binding to our order, you must swear,
Whate'er you see, or whatsoe'er your wrath
From what you see, that never shall your tongue
Reveal it to the danger of the princess.

PALADORE.
A most superfluous bond!—But on; I swear.

BIRENO.
Hold yet a little. Now, Sir, once again
Let this be touch'd.—Your enmity to me,
If by the process it should be provok'd,
Must in your breast be smother'd, not break out
In tilting at my life, nor your gage thrown
For any after quarrel. The cause weigh'd,
I might expect your love: but 'tis the stuff,
And proper quality of hoodwink'd rage,
To wrest offence from kindness.

PALADORE.
Should your proof
Keep pace with your assurance, scorn, not rage,
Will here be paramount, and my sword sleep,
From my indifference to a worthless toy,
Valued but in my untried ignorance.

BIRENO.
So you determine wisely. I must bind you
To one condition more. If I make palpable
Her preference in my favour, you must turn
Your back on Lombardy, and never more
Seek her encounter.

PALADORE.
By a soldier's faith!
Should it be so, I wou'd not breathe your air
A moment longer, for the sov'reignty
Of all the soil wash'd by your wand'ring Po.

BIRENO.
Summon your patience now, for sure you'll need it.

PALADORE.
You have tried it to the last: dally no more,
I shiver in expectance. Come, your proofs.

BIRENO.
Well you will have them. Know you first this writing?

[Gives a paper.
PALADORE.
It is the character of fair Sophia.

BIRENO.
I think so, and as such receiv'd it from her;
Convey'd with such sweet action to my hand,
As wak'd the nimble spirit of my blood,
Whispering how kind were the contents within.
This light will aid the moon, tho' now she shines
In her full splendor. At your leisure read it.

PALADORE,
reading.
Kind words indeed; I fear, I fear too common.

BIRENO.
It works as I could wish. How his cheek whitens!
His fiery eye darts thro' each tender word
As it would burn the paper.

PALADORE,
reading.
Ever constant—
Let me look once again. Is my sight false?
Oh, wou'd it were! Fain wou'd I cast the blame,
To save her crime, on my imperfect sense.
But did she give you this?

BIRENO.
Look to the address.

PALADORE.
Oh, darkness on my eyes! I've seen too much.
There's not a letter, but like necromancy
Withers my corporal functions. Shame confound her!

BIRENO.
As you before were tardy of belief,
You now are rash. Behold these little shadows.
These you have seen before.

[Producing two pictures.
PALADORE.
What's this, what's this!
My picture, as I live, I gave the false one,
And her's she promis'd me! Oh, woman's faith!
I was your champion once, deceitful sex!
Thought your fair minds—But hold, I may be rash—
This letter, and these pictures, might be your's
By the king's power, compelling her reluctant
To write and send them; therefore let me see
All you have promis'd.—You expect her summons
At yon Miranda—

BIRENO.
Yes, the time draws near;
She ever is most punctual. This small light
Our wonted signal: stand without its ray;
For shou'd she spy more than myself beneath,
Fearing discovery, she'll retire again
Into her chamber—When her beauteous form
Breaks like the moon, as fair, tho' not so cold,
From yonder window.

PALADORE.
Ha! by hell it opens!—

BIRENO.
Stand you apart a moment. While I climb,
Yon orb, now braz'd to this accustom'd scene,
Will shew you who invites me. I'll detain her,
To give you ample leisure for such note
As counterfeits abide not.

[Bireno retires;