Roselo. Marin, Marin.
Marin. Señor, thy father is within.
Roselo. Soon shall he know this maddening love,
Which doth consume my heart.
Marin. Here's crazy nonsense!
Roselo. I feel as if my reason waver'd.
Marin. Know you that the lady is
Of Castelvines' kin?
Roselo. I do, and am undone.
Marin. There is no ill which, taken timely,
But it will yield to cautious cure.
Anselmo. Already are my fears aroused,
Still, if thou wilt but counsel take
All will be well. Fancy 'twas
The limner's art enslaved thine eye.
Or that in a glass reflected, seen
And, having pass'd along,
Thou findest 'twas a mirror'd dream.
Roselo. I bear her beauty mirror'd in mine eyes,
Her sweet self reflected, and her angel-look
Is ever present to my sight.
Anselmo. To think of loving this Castelvin fair;
'Twould mar thy life; the city too
Aroused would cry out nay.
For, look you, should you pass
By door or window of Castelvin kin
His rapier would be quickly out; the
Very stones would topple on your head.
Roselo. How little dost thou know of love, Anselmo!
Anselmo. What need know more than this,
A bitter quenchless hatred doth divide
Your houses?
