_Sanaz._ Sweetly answer'd, And like your noble self. This your rare temper So wins upon me, that I would not live (If that by honest arts I can prevent it) To see your hopes made frustrate. And but think How you shall be transform'd from what you are, Should this (as Heaven avert it!) ever happen. It must disturb your peace: for whereas now, Being, as you are, received for the heir-apparent, You are no sooner seen but wonder'd at; The signiors making it a business to Inquire how you have slept; and, as you walk The streets of Florence, the glad multitude In throngs press but to see you; and, with joy, The father, pointing with his finger, tells His son, This is the prince, the hopeful prince, That must hereafter rule, and you obey him.-- Great ladies beg your picture, and make love To that, despairing to enjoy the substance.-- And but the last night, when 'twas only rumour'd That you were come to court, as if you had By sea pass'd hither from another world, What general shouts and acclamations follow'd! The bells rang loud, the bonfires blazed, and such As loved not wine, carousing to your health, Were drunk, and blush'd not at it. And is this A happiness to part with? _Giov._ I allow these As flourishes of fortune, with which princes Are often soothed; but never yet esteem'd them For real blessings. _Sanaz._ Yet all these were paid To what you may be, not to what you are; For if the Great Duke but show to his servants A son of his own, you shall, like one obscure, Pass unregarded. _Giov._ I confess, command Is not to be contemn'd, and if my fate Appoint me to it, as I may, I'll bear it With willing shoulders. But, my lord, as yet, You've told me of a danger coming towards me, But have not named it. _Sanaz._ That is soon deliver'd. Great Cozimo, your uncle, as I more Than guess, for 'tis no frivolous circumstance That does persuade my judgment to believe it, Purposes to be married. _Giov._ Married, sir! With whom, and on what terms? pray you, instruct me. _Sanaz._ With the fair Lidia. _Giov._ Lidia! _Sanaz._ The daughter Of signior Charomonte. _Giov._ Pardon me Though I appear incredulous; for, on My knowledge, he ne'er saw her. _Sanaz._ That is granted: But Contarino hath so sung her praises, And given her out for such a masterpiece, That he's transported with it, sir:--and love Steals sometimes through the ear into the heart, As well as by the eye. The duke no sooner Heard her described, but I was sent in post To see her, and return my judgment of her. _Giov._ And what's your censure[75]? _Sanaz._ 'Tis a pretty creature. _Giov._ She's very fair. _Sanaz._ Yes, yes, I have seen worse faces. _Giov._ Her limbs are neatly form'd. _Sanaz._ She hath a waist Indeed sized to love's wish. _Giov._ A delicate hand too. _Sanaz._ Then for a leg and foot--