_Sanaz._ Fame gives her out for a rare masterpiece. _Char._ 'Tis a plain village girl, sir, but obedient; That's her best beauty, sir. _Sanaz._ Let my desire To see her find a fair construction from you: I bring no loose thought with me. _Char._ You are that way, My lord, free from suspicion. Her own manners, Without an imposition from me, I hope, will prompt her to it. _Enter_ LIDIA _and_ PETRONELLA. As she is, She comes to make a tender of that service Which she stands bound to pay. _Sanaz._ With your fair leave, I make bold to salute you. _Lid._ Sir, you have it. _Char._ How he falls off! _Lid._ My lord, though silence best becomes a maid, And to be curious to know but what Concerns myself, and with becoming distance, May argue me of boldness, I must borrow So much of modesty, as to inquire Prince Giovanni's health. _Sanaz._ He cannot want What you are pleased to wish him. _Lid._ Would 'twere so! And then there is no blessing that can make A hopeful and a noble prince complete, But should fall on him. O! he was our north star, The light and pleasure of our eyes. _Sanaz._ Where am I? I feel myself another thing! Can charms Be writ on such pure rubies[71]? her lips melt As soon as touch'd! Not those smooth gales that glide O'er happy Araby, or rich Sabæa, Creating in their passage gums and spices, Can serve for a weak simile to express The sweetness of her breath. Such a brave stature Homer bestow'd on Pallas, every limb Proportion'd to it! _Char._ This is strange.--My lord! _Sanaz._ I crave your pardon, and yours, matchless maid, For such I must report you. _Petron._ There's no notice Taken all this while of me. [_Aside._ _Sanaz._ And I must add, If your discourse and reason parallel The rareness of your more than human form, You are a wonder. _Char._ Pray you, my lord, make trial: She can speak, I can assure you; and that my presence May not take from her freedom, I will leave you: For know, my lord, my confidence dares trust her Where, and with whom, she pleases.--Petronella! _Petron._ Yes, my good lord. _Char._ I have employment for you. [_Exeunt_ CHAROMONTE _and_ PETRONELLA. _Lid._ What's your will, sir? _Sanaz._ Madam, you are so large a theme to treat of, And every grace about you offers to me Such copiousness of language, that I stand Doubtful which first to touch at. If I err, As in my choice I may, let me entreat you, Before I do offend, to sign my pardon: Let this, the emblem of your innocence, Give me assurance.