_Gon._ Nay, but my lord, my lord, You must take it, wear it, keep it, For by the honour of our house and blood, 440 I will deal wisely, and be provident; Your father shall not say I pandarised, Or fondly wink'd at your affection; No, we'll be wise. This night our daughter yields Your father's answer; this night we invite Your presence therefore to a feastful waking; To-morrow to Ferrara you return, With wishèd answer to your royal father; Meantime, as you respect our best relation Of your fair bearing (Granuffo, is't not good?)-- 450 Of your fair bearing, rest more anxious-- (No, anxious is not a good word)--rest more vigilant Over your passion, both forbear and bear, _Anechou e apechou_[218] (that's Greek to you now), Else your youth shall find Our nose not stuff'd, but we can take the wind And smell you out--I say no more but thus-- And smell you out. What! ha' we not our eyes, Our nose and ears? What! are these hairs unwise? Look to't, _quos ego_,[219]-- 460 (A figure called _Aposiopesis_ or _Increpatio_). [_Exeunt_ GONZAGO _and_ GRANUFFO. _Tib._ [_reads the embroidered scarfs_] _Prove you but justly loving and conceive me, Justice shall leave the gods before I leave thee:_ Imagination prove as true as thou art sweet! _And tho' the duke seem wise, he'll find this strain, When two hearts yield consent, all thwarting's vain._ O quick, deviceful, strong-brain'd Dulcimel! Thou art too full of wit to be a wife. Why dost thou love? or what strong heat gave life To such faint hopes? O woman! thou art made 470 Most only of, and for, deceit; thy form Is nothing but delusion of our eyes, Our ears, our hearts, and sometimes of our hands; Hypocrisy and vanity brought forth, Without male heat, thy most, most monstrous being. Shall I abuse my royal father's trust, And make myself a scorn--the very food Of rumour infamous? Shall I, that ever loath'd A thought of woman, now begin to love My worthy father's right?--break faith to him 480 That got me, to get a faithless woman? _Herc._ True, My worthy lord, your grace is _verè pius_. _Tib._ To take from my good father The pleasure of his eyes and of his hands, Imaginary solace of his fading life! _Herc._ His life, that only lives to your sole good! _Tib._ And myself good--his life's most only end. _Herc._ Which, O! may never end! _Tib._ Yes, Fawn, in time. We must not prescribe to nature everything. There's some end in everything. 490 _Herc._ But in a woman. Yet, as she is a wife, she is oftentimes the end of her husband. _Tib._ Shall I, I say----