We'll pass the time a little in discourse:

What have you seen abroad?

Fern. No wonders, lady, Like these I see at home.

Fior. At home! as how?

Fern. Your pardon, if my tongue, the voice of truth,

Report but what is warranted by sight.

Fior. What sight?

Fern. Look in your glass, and you shall see

A miracle.

Fior. What miracle?

Fern. Your beauty,

So far above all beauties else abroad,
As you are, in your own, superlative.

Fior. Fy, fy! your wit hath too much edge.
Fern. Would that,

Or any thing, that I could challenge mine,
Were but of value to express how much
I serve, in love, the sister of my prince!

Fior. 'Tis for your prince's sake then, not for mine?
Fern. For you in him, and much for him in you:
I must acknowledge, madam, I observe,

In your affects,' a thing to me most strange,
Which makes me so much honour you the more.
Fior. Pray tell it.

Fern. Gladly, lady:

I see how opposite to youth and custom,
You set before you, in the tablature

Of your remembrance, the becoming griefs
Of a most loyal lady, for the loss

Of so renown'd a prince as was your lord.
Fior. Now, good my lord, no more of him.
Fern. Of him!

I know it is a needless task in me

To set him forth in his deserved praise,
You better can record it; for you find

1 Affections.

How much more he exceeded other men
In most heroic virtues of account,

So much more was your loss in losing him.
Of him! his praise should be a field too large,
Too spacious, for so mean an orator

As I to range in.

Fior. Sir, enough: 't is true

He well deserv'd your labour; on his death-bed
This ring he gave me, bade me never part
With this, but to the man I lov'd as dearly
As I lov'd him; yet since you know which way
To blaze his worth so rightly, in return

To your deserts, wear this for him and me. [Offers him the ring.

Fern. Madam?

Fior. 'Tis yours.

Fern. Methought you said, he charged you
Not to impart it but to him you loved
As dearly as you loved him.

Fior. True, I said so.

Fern. Oh, then, far be it my unhallow'd hand,
With any rude intrusion, should unveil
A testament enacted by the dead.

Fior. Why, man, that testament is disannull'd,
And cancell'd quite by us that live. Look here,
My blood is not yet freez'd; for better instance,
Be judge yourself; experience is no danger—
Cold are my sighs; but feel, my lips are warm.
[Kisses him.
Fern. What means the virtuous marquess?1
Fior. To new-kiss
The oath to thee, which while he lived was his :
Hast thou yet power to love?

Fern. To love!

1 Virtuous marquess.] The title of marquis is the newest in this country and it was not till after some time that marchioness was introduced, to distinguish the lady from her lord. She was in Ford's time usually "my lady marquis or marquess." The Italian marchese and marchesa are hardly different in sound; and in old French marquis and marchise were probably little more so.

Fior. To meet

Sweetness of language in discourse as sweet?

Fern. Madam, 't were dulness, past the ignorance Of common blockheads, not to understand Whereto this favour tends; and 't is a fortune So much above my fate, that I could wish No greater happiness on earth; but know, Long since, I vow'd to live a single life. Fior. What was 't you said?

Fern. I said, I made a vow

Enter BIANCA and D'AVOLOS.

Blessed deliverance!

Fior. Prevented! mischief on this interruption!

ACT II. SCENE I.

[Aside.

FERNANDO and BIANCA.

Fern. Madam.

Bian. To me, my lord!

Fern. Please but to hear

The story of a castaway in love;

And, oh! let not the passage of a jest

Make slight a sadder subject, who hath placed
All happiness in your diviner eyes.

Bian. My lord, the time

Fern. The time! yet hear me speak,
For I must speak, or burst: I have a soul
So anchor'd down with cares in seas of wo,
That passion, and the vows I owe to you,
Have changed me to a lean anatomy.
Sweet princess of my life-

Bian. Forbear, or I shall

Fern. Yet, as you honour virtue, do not freeze

My hopes to more discomfort, than, as yet,

My fears suggest; no beauty so adorns
The composition of a well-built mind,
As pity: hear me out.

Bian. No more! I spare

To tell you what you are, and must confess,
Do almost hate my judgment, that it once

Thought goodness dwelt in you. Remember, now,
It is the third time since your treacherous tongue
Hath pleaded treason to my ear and fame;
Yet, for the friendship 'twixt my lord and you,
I have not voiced your follies: if you dare
To speak a fourth time, you shall rue your lust;
"T is all no better:-learn, and love yourself. [Exit.
Fern.. Gone! oh, my sorrows! how am I undone!
Not speak again? no, no, in her chaste breast
Virtue and resolution have discharged

All female weakness; I have sued and sued,
Knelt, wept, and bègg'd; but tears, and vows, and
words

Move her no more than summer-winds a rock.

I must resolve to check this rage of blood,

And will; she is all icy to my fires,

Yet even that ice inflames in me desires.

SCENE II.

The Palace.-The Dutchess's Apartment.

[Exit.

Enter COLONA with lights, BIANCA, FIORMONDA, FerNANDO, and D'AVOLOS; COLONA places the lights on a table, and sets down a chessboard.

Bian. 'Tis yet but early night, too soon to sleep; Sister, shall's have a mate at chess?

Fior. A mate!

No, madam, you are grown too hard for me;
My lord Fernando is a fitter match.

Bian. He's a well-practis'd gamester-well, care

not

How cunning soe'er he be.-To pass an hour I'll try your skill, my lord: reach here the chessboard.

Fern. I shall bewray too much of my ignorance In striving with your highness; 't is a game

I lose at still, by oversight.

Bian. Well, well,

I fear you not.

[FERNANDO and the Dutchess play.

Fior. Madam, I must entreat excuse; I feel The temper of my body not in case

To judge the strife.

Bian. Lights for our sister, sirs!

Good rest t' ye; I'll but end my game, and follow. Fior. [Aside to D'Av.] Let 'em have time enough; and, as thou canst,

Be near to hear their courtship, D'Avolos.

D'Av. Madam, I shall observe them with all cunning secrecy.

Bian. Colona, attend our sister to her chamber. Col. I shall, madam.

[Exit FIOR. followed by CoL. and D'Av. Bian. Play.

Fern. I must not lose the advantage of the game;

Madam, your queen is lost.

Bian. My clergy help me ;1

My queen! and nothing for it but a pawn?
Why then the game's lost too: but play.

Fern. What, madam?

[FERNANDO often looks about. Bian. You must needs play well, you are so stu

dious,

:

Fy upon 't! you study past patience :-
What do you dream on? here 's demurring
Would weary out a statue !-Good now, play.
Fern. Forgive me; let my knees for ever stick
[Kneels.

Nail'd to the ground, as earthy as my fears,
Ere I arise, to part away so curs'd

1 My clergy help me,] i. e. my bishops, but those who understand the game do not need these modicums of information, and upon all others they are thrown away.-GIFFORD.