BEATRICE. You love me not, or love me over-much, Which makes you jealous of the gems I wear! You do not deck me as becomes our state, For fear my grandeur should besiege the eyes Of Monte, Clari, Marcus, and the rest-- A precious set! You're jealous, sir! LARA. Not I. I love you. BEATRICE. Why, that is as easy said As any three short words; takes no more breath To say, "I hate you." What, sir, have I lived Three times four weeks your wedded loyal wife, And do not know your follies? I will wager (If I could trap his countship into this!) The rarest kisses I know how to give Against the turquoise, that within a month You'll grow so jealous--and without a cause, Or with a reason thin as window glass-- That you will ache to kill me! LARA. Will you so? And I--let us clasp hands and kiss on it. BEATRICE. Clasp hands, Sir Trustful; but not kiss--nay, nay! I will not pay my forfeit till I lose. LARA. And I'll not lose the forfeit. BEATRICE. We shall see. [_Exit_ BEATRICE. LARA. She has as many fancies as the wind Which now, like slumber, lies 'mong spicy isles, Then suddenly blows white furrows in the sea! Lovely and dangerous is my leopardess. To-day, low-lying at my feet; to-morrow, With great eyes flashing, threatening doleful death-- With strokes like velvet! She's no common clay, But fire and dew and marble. I'll not throw So rare a wonder in the lap o' the world! Jealous? I am not jealous--though they say Some sorts of love breed jealousy. And yet, I would I had not wagered; it implies Doubt. If I doubted? Pshaw! I'll walk awhile And let the cool air fan me. 'Twas not wise. 'Tis only Folly with its cap and bells Can jest with sad things. She seemed earnest, too. What if, to pique me, she should overstep The pale of modesty, and give bold eyes (I could not bear that, nay, not even that!) To Marc or Claudian? Why, such things have been And no sin dreamed of. I will watch her close. There, now, I wrong her. Yet if she, To win the turquoise of me, if she should-- O cursed jewels! Would that they were hung About the glistening neck of some mermaid A thousand fathoms underneath the sea! [A PAGE _crosses the garden_.