Thy gentle sister, who doth love thee well:
Playing the loutish lover, thou hast miss'd
Both trust and honour in her cause; ah me!
With Cupid's love-blind eyes, who then can see?
Otavio. What great mishap hath cross'd thy will?
Teobaldo. Thou'lt lack no crosses through thy life, my boy,
But for thine honour's sake hadst thou been here
By Dorotea's side,
Thou couldst have made some show that Castelvine's blood
Doth flow within thy veins,
And I not be humbled thus to brook an insult from
These proud Monteses.
Otavio. What insult then hath fallen out to-day?
Teobaldo. Had I thy years, my son, thy youth
And strength,
Verona should have seen a quick revenge.
But since my love for thee
Can cure no wound, know this
'Tis Castelvine's honour they offend.
Otavio. What words are these I hear?
Teobaldo. Let not thy hot blood too quickly course,
But listen.
Otavio. Parley not, for having call'd me coward, fool;
Say, who is't thine honour doth offend?
Speak, speak, I pray!
Teobaldo. The scats prepared for thy kindred in the church
These craven Montes dared to misplace.
Otavio. When? where shall I find the coward crew?
Teobaldo. Thou'lt see them yonder, boy, within.
Otavio. I will return anon.
Teobaldo. I did not move thy quick-pulsed blood
