+Vel.+ He happily supplied the office of Our general: howe'er, your city had Been ours; for though our Spanish forces may At first seem beaten, and we to retreat Awhile, to animate a giddy enemy, Yet we recover by our art and patience What fortune gives away. This unknown leader (I know not how to style him) press'd among Our soldiers, as they were returning back After a small repulse: encouraged them, (Though it was much superfluous) and got honour Perhaps not so deservingly; but 'twas well. +Oni.+ Your soldiers speak his glory even with wonder. +Vel.+ The ignorant are prone to it: but, sir, I think in our whole army there fought none But who had equal spirit. Fortune may Bestow success according to her dotage: I answer not for that. +San.+ This is pure Castile. But what is his birth, country, quality, And whither is he bound? +Vel.+ I seldom trouble My language with vain questions. Some report (It not imports who are the authors) that His country's Sicily, his name Ascanio (Or else some sound like that): that he's a lord (But what's an island-lord?) and that he came Into our continent to learn men and manners: And well he might; for the all-seeing sun Beholds no nation fiercer in attempt, More staid in counsel. +Oni.+ He's of a brave presence: I never saw more majesty in youth; Nor never such bold courage in a face So fashion'd to delight. +San.+ The queen commends him Almost with wonder. +Vel.+ Did the queen regard A man unknown? +Oni.+ His merits spoke his worth, And well might challenge a particular eye. +San.+ But his, as if in that dumb oratory He hoped to talk all the history of love, Still fix'd upon her. +Vel.+ Your most humble servant. [_Exit +Velasco+._ +Oni.+ This is abrupt. +San.+ What most politic flea Is got into his Donship's ear? +Oni.+ Now must The Junto sit till midnight, till they rack Some strange design from this intelligence. _Enter +Cleantha+, and offers to go out._ +San.+ Nay! on my honour, madam! +Cle.+ Good my lord! +San.+ Benight us not so soon! That short-liv'd day That gives the Russian in the winter hope Of heat, yet fails him, not so suddenly Forsakes the firmament. Stay, fairest madam, That we may look on you and live. +Cle.+ My lord, I fear you two were serious. +San.+ Never I, upon my conscience, madam. +Oni.+ No, I'll swear; Nor none of the whole form of you at court, Unless the stratagem be for a mistress, A fashion, or some cheating-match at tennis. +Cle.+ But happily[281] that gentleman had business. His face betrays my judgment if he be Not much in project.