_Gar._ Your speech flies too high for your meaning to follow, yet my mistrust shall not precede my experience: I wrought this favour for you. _Nym._ The integrity and only vow of my faith to you; ever urge your well-deserved requital to me. [_Exit_ GARBETZA. _Herc._ Why, this is pure wit, nay, judgment. _Nym._ Why, look thee, Fawn, observe me. _Herc._ I do, sir. _Nym._ I do love at this instant some nineteen ladies, all in the trade of marriage. Now, sir, whose father dies first, or whose portion appeareth most, or whose fortunes betters soonest, her with quiet liberty at my leisure will I elect; for[208] that's my humour. 133 _Enter_ DULCIMEL _and_ PHILOCALIA. _Herc._ You profess a most excellent mystery, sir. _Nym._ 'Fore Heaven! see the princess--she that is---- _Herc._ Your most only elected, too? _Nym._ Oh! ay--oh! ay--but my hope's faint yet.--By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected and---- _Dul._ There's a ship of fools going out! Shall I prefer thee, Nymphadoro? Thou mayst be master's mate. My father hath made Dondolo captain, else thou shouldest have his place. 143 _Nym._ By Jove, Fawn, she speaks as sharply, and looks as sourly, as if she had been new squeezed out of a crab orange. _Herc._ How term you that lady with whom she holds discourse? _Nym._ O, Fawn, 'tis a lady even above ambition; and like the vertical sun, that neither forceth others to cast shadows, nor can others force or shade her. Her style is Donna Philocalia. 152 _Herc._ Philocalia! What! that renowmed[209] lady, whose ample report hath struck wonder into remotest strangers? and yet her worth above that wonder? She, whose noble industries hath made her breast rich in true glories and undying habilities? she, that whilst other ladies spend the life of earth, Time, in reading their glass, their jewels, and (the shame of poesy) lustful sonnets, gives her soul meditations--those meditations wings that cleave the air, fan bright celestial fires, whose true reflection makes her see herself and them? she whose pity is ever above her envy, loving nothing less than insolent prosperity, and pitying nothing more than virtue destitute of fortune? 164 _Nym._ There were a lady for Ferrara's duke!--one of great blood, firm age, undoubted honour, above her sex, most modestly artful, tho' naturally modest; too excellent to be left unmatch'd, tho' few worthy to match with her. _Herc._ I cannot tell--my thoughts grow busy. 169 _Phi._ The princess would be private. Void the presence! [_Exeunt._ _Dul._ May I rest sure thou wilt conceal a secret? _Phi._ Yes, madam.