Roselo. When fear should fast my tongue in silence bind
Then is my love all kindled and ablaze.
Anselmo, speaking for myself.
How dare I whisper sweet discourse in ear
Of one who hates all Montes and their kin?
Anselmo. Wise words, Roselo: and may thou
Think ever thus!
Julia. If ever Love in masquerade should come
And so disguise himself and yet peep forth,
Methinks 'twould be with such a form and face
As that of yonder gentle youth, all grace.
Ah me! methinks 'tis Love himself,
Who, craving thus a silly maiden's heart to wound,
Seeks in such guise to slay.
Roselo. Great Heaven, why a Montes I?
Why not Castelvin born as yon sweet maid?
For such a birthright would I barter heaven's joy,
And name, and kin. Ah, Cupid, ruthless boy!
Julia. Amid the flowers of this fertile earth
Methinks the welcome showers of spring have wept
This bright Narcissus into life.
Roselo. If this indeed be Paradise, who cares
For hostile houses' hatred or revenge?
Mayhap 'tis Hades, and 'tween love and hate
Yon seraph shape angelic holds her state.
Fool, dullard that I am! so rash, so weak;
And yet I'd even venture more, and speak.
Julia. Oh, that he would but deign a whisper'd word,
I'd be so gentle, staid, and courteous; seek
To please him so. Back, hot blush, from cheek!
Dorotea. In conversation now doth Julia hold Otavio
While yonder mask approaches.
