[_Exit_ ANNA. _Enter_ GNIACA _Count of Gaza, with_ Attendants. My lord, Know you this gallant? Tis a complete gentleman. _Mass._ I do; 'tis Count Gniaca, my endeared friend. _Gni._ Welcome to Pavy; welcome, fairest lady. Your sight, dear friend, is life's restorative; This day's the period of long-wish'd content, More welcome to me than day to the world, Night to the wearied, or gold to a miser: 30 Such joy feels friendship in society. _Isa._ [_Aside._] A rare-shaped man: compare them both together. _Mass._ Our loves are friendly twins, both at a birth; The joy you taste, that joy do I conceive. This day's the jubilee of my desire. _Isa._ [_Aside._] He's fairer than he was when first I saw him. This little time makes him more excellent. _Gui._ Relate some news. Hark you; what lady's that? Be open-breasted, so will I to thee. [_They whisper._ _Isa._ [_Aside._] Error did blind him that paints love blind; 40 For my love plainly judges difference: Love is clear-sighted, and with eagle's eyes, Undazzled, looks upon bright sun-beam'd beauty. Nature did rob herself when she made him, Blushing to see her work excel herself; 'Tis[245] shape makes mankind femelacy. Forgive me, Count Massino,[246] 'tis my fate To love thy friend, and quit thy love with hate. I must enjoy him; let hope thy passions smother; Faith cannot cool blood; I'll clip him were 't my brother. Such is the heat of my sincere affection, 51 Hell nor earth can keep love in subjection! _Gni._ I crave your honour's pardon; my ignorance Of what you were may gain a courteous pardon. _Isa._ There needs no pardon where there's no offence. [_Aside._] His tongue strikes music ravishing my sense: I must be sudden, else desire confounds me. _Mass._ What sport affords this climate for delight? _Gni._ We'll hawk and hunt to-day; as for to-morrow, Variety shall feed variety. 60 _Isa._ Dissimulation women's armour is, Aid love, belief, and female constancy.-- O I am sick, my lord! Kind Massino,[247] help me! _Mass._ Forfend it, Heaven! Madam, sit; how fare you? My life's best comfort, speak--O speak, sweet saint! _Isa._ Fetch art to keep life; run, my love, I faint; My vital breath runs coldly through my veins; I see lean death, with eyes imaginary, Stand fearfully before me; here my end, A wife unconstant, yet thy loving friend! 70 _Mass._ As swift as thought fly I to wish thee aid. [_Exit._