Teobaldo. Give my grey hairs full credit, then;
And if thy daughter be in presence here,
Is not also mine?
Antonio. For all sakes, then, I will be calm.
Teobaldo. I do but counsel as cool prudence guides.
Anselmo. What moves you thus—why gaze with such intent?
Roselo. Methinks dark death doth yonder point.
Anselmo. But gazing thus
With tender look and contemplation keen
Doth give occasion to Castelvin's kin
To draw their swords upon us.
Roselo. Their swords, their looks, or hate
To me are naught. O Love! sweet Love!
Anselmo. Love? they'll call thy rashness
By another name.
Roselo. Stand thee aside, Anselmo; let me gaze
On that pure heavenly maid 'till eyesight fails;
Then let all evils hap that may
Such as this hated house doth crave,
And if it is that life itself be forfeit
For such a glorious heaven as this, Anselmo,
Who cares to breathe the air of this dull earth?
I'd welcome death a thousand times;
For if these Castelvines' daughters slay
Like basilisk with fatal blighting gaze,
Who would not joy to look and end his days?
Anselmo. I marvel not to find thy fancy touch'd,
Such beauty lacks but halo of the saint,
So softly doth it steal upon the sight.
Roselo. Is she not lovely?
Dorotea to Julia. What a handsome youth is that? look;
Mark you his presence, Julia?
