+Dec.+ Your pardon, good my lord; we'll find an hour Less serious to advise upon your papers, And then at large we'll whisper. +San.+ As you please, My lord: you'll pardon the error of my duty. [_Exit +Sanmartino+._ +Oss.+ The queen, my lord, gave free access to what I spoke o' th' public; but when I began To mention love---- +Dec.+ How? did she frown, or with What murdering scorn heard she Decastro named? Love! of thy labyrinth of art what path Left I untrodden? Humbly I have labour'd To win her favour; and when that prevail'd not, The kingdom in my quarrel vow'd to empty The veins of their great body. +Oss.+ Sir, her heart Is mightier than misfortune. Though her youth, Soft as some consecrated virgin wax, Seem easy for impression, yet her virtue Hard as a rock of diamond, breaks all The battery of the waves. +Dec.+ Unkind and cruel! +Oss.+ She charg'd me tell you that a faithless Moor, Who had gain'd honour only by the ruin Of what we hold religious, sooner she Would welcome to her bed, than who t' his queen And Love had been a rebel. +Dec.+ How a rebel? The people's suffrage, which inaugurates princes, Hath warranted my actions. +Oss.+ But she answers, The subtle arts of faction, not free vote, Commanded her restraint. +Dec.+ May even those stars, Whose influence made me great, turn their aspècts To blood and ruin, if ambition rais'd The appetite of love. Her beauty hath A power more sovereign than the Eastern slave Acknowledg'd ever in his idol king. To that I bowed a subject: but when I Discover'd that her fancy fix'd upon Florentio (General now of th' enemy's army), I let the people use their severe way, And they restrain'd her. +Oss.+ But, my lord, their guilt Is made your crime. Yet all this new affliction Disturbs her not to anger, but disdain. +Dec.+ She hath a glorious spirit. Yet the world, The envious world itself, must justify, That howsoever fortune yielded up The sceptre to my power, I did but kiss it, And offer'd it again into her hand. _Enter +Florentio+, +Velasco+, and others._ +Oni.+ My lord, the general of Castile, Florentio. +Dec.+ He's safely welcome. Now let each man keep At a due distance. I have here attended Your lordship's presence. +Flo.+ O my lord, are we, Whom love obligeth to the same allegiance, Brought hither on these terms? +Dec.+ They're terms of honour, And I yet never knew to frame excuse, Where that begot the quarrel. +Flo.+ Yet methinks We might have found another way to it. We might have sought out danger, where the proud, Insulting Moor profanes our holy places. The noise of war had been no trouble then; But now too much 'twill fright the gentle ear Of her we both are vow'd to serve.