MARIA. Certain and sure, the sprig is Guido Bardi, A lovely lord, a lord whose blood is blue! BIANCA. But where did he receive you? MARIA. Where, but there In yonder palace, in a painted hall!— Painted with naked women on the walls,— Would make a common man or blush or smile But he seemed not to heed them, being a lord. BIANCA. But how know you ’tis not a chamberlayne, A lackey merely? MARIA. Why, how know I there is a God in heaven? Because the angels have a master surely. So to this lord they bowed, all others bowed, And swept the marble flags, doffing their caps, With the gay plumes. Because he stiffly said, And seemed to see me as those folk are seen That will be never seen again by you, ‘Woman, your mistress then returns this purse Of forty thousand crowns, is it fifty thousand? Come name the sum will buy me grace of her.’ BIANCA. What, were there forty thousand crowns therein? MARIA. I know it was all gold; heavy with gold. BIANCA. It must be he, none else could give so much. MARIA. ’Tis he, ’tis my lord Guido, Guido Bardi. BIANCA. What said you? MARIA. I, I said my mistress never Looked at the gold, never opened the purse, Never counted a coin. But asked again What she had asked before, ‘How young you looked? How handsome your lordship looked? What doublet Your majesty had on? What chains, what hose Upon your revered legs?’ And curtseyed I, . . . BIANCA. What said he? MARIA. Curtseyed I, and he replied, ‘Has she a lover then beside that old Soured husband or is it him she loves, my God! Is it him?’ BIANCA. Well? MARIA. Curtseyed I low and said ‘Not him, my lord, nor you, nor no man else. Thou art rich, my lord, and honoured, my lord, and she Though not so rich is honoured . . .’ BIANCA. Fool, you fool, I never bid you say a word of that. MARIA. Nor did I say a word of that you said; I said, ‘She loves him not, my lord, nor loves Any man else. Yet she might like to love, If she were loved by one who pleased her well; For she is weary of spinning long alone. She is not rich and yet she is not poor; but young She is, my lord, and you are young. [_Pauses smiling_.] BIANCA. Quick, quick! MARIA. There, there! ’Twas but to show you how I smiled Saying the lord was young. It took him too; For he said, ‘This will do! If I should call To-night to pay respect unto your lovely— Our lovely mistress, tell her that I said, Our lovely mistress, shall I be received?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ ‘Then say I come and if All else is well let her throw down some favour When as I pass below.’ He should be there! Look from the balcony; he should be there!— And there he is, dost see?