_Giov._ O Lidia, Of maids the honour, and your sex's glory! It is not fear to die, but to lose you, That brings this fever on me. I will now Discover to you, that which, till this minute, I durst not trust the air with. Ere you knew What power the magic of your beauty had, I was enchanted by it, liked, and loved it, My fondness still increasing with my years; And, flatter'd by false hopes, I did attend Some blessed opportunity to move The duke with his consent to make you mine: But now, such is my star-cross'd destiny, When he beholds you as you are, I may As well entreat him give away his crown, As to part from a jewel of more value. Yet, howsoever, when you are his duchess, And I am turn'd into forgotten dust, Pray you, love my memory:--I should say more, But I'm cut off. _Enter_ COZIMO, CHAROMONTE, CONTARINO, HIERONIMO, HIPPOLITO, _and_ ALPHONSO. _Sanaz._ The duke! That countenance, once, When it was clothed in smiles, show'd like an angel's, But, now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury, 'Tis terrible to look on. _Lid._ Sir. _Coz._ A while Silence your musical tongue, and let me feast My eyes with the most ravishing object that They ever gazed on. There's no miniature In her fair face, but is a copious theme Which would, discoursed at large of, make a volume. What clear arch'd brows! what sparkling eyes! the lilies Contending with the roses in her cheeks, Who shall most set them off. What ruby lips!-- Or unto what can I compare her neck, But to a rock of crystal? every limb Proportion'd to love's wish, and in their neatness Add lustre to the riches of her habit, Not borrow from it. _Lid._ You are pleased to show, sir, The fluency of your language, in advancing A subject much unworthy. _Coz._ How! unworthy? By all the vows which lovers offer at The Cyprian goddess' altars, eloquence Itself presuming, as you are, to speak you, Would be struck dumb!--And what have you deserved then, [GIOVANNI _and_ SANAZARRO _kneel_. (Wretches, you kneel too late,) that have endeavour'd To spout the poison of your black detraction On this immaculate whiteness? Was it malice To her perfections? or---- _Fior._ Your highness promised A gracious hearing to the count. _Lid._ And prince too: Do not make void so just a grant. _Coz._ We will not: Yet, since their accusation must be urged, And strongly, ere their weak defence have hearing, We seat you here, as judges, to determine Of your gross wrongs and ours. [_Seats the Ladies in the chairs of state._] And now, remembering Whose deputies you are, be neither sway'd Or with particular spleen, or foolish pity, For neither can become you. _Char._ There's some hope yet, Since they have such gentle judges.