That I might play the craven coward here;
I will go with thee.
Otavio. Father, thou shalt not.
Teobaldo. I will go in. [Exeunt into the church.
Fesenio. That he so madly urge his fiery son
Methinks doth lack a parent's prudence.
Enter Anselmo and Roselo.
Rosele. This way she pass'd, and by her side
Otavio walk'd.
Anselmo. So, so, methought it was summer dream
To be forgotten on the morrow,
For thou in all thy letters nothing wrote
Of Julia Castelvine.
Roselo. Who cares to trust on paper thoughts
That burn; or weary patient friends
With words they would not care to read.
Fesenio (aside). And so these are of Montes' house;
Sad fate should anger bear her bitter fruit!
I will within, and young Otavio seek.
Fesenio enters the church.
Anselmo. And has Roselo secrets in his love?
Roselo. In good time thou comest to hear my tale;
'Tis needful I advise you of my love;
And truly I have much to tell which hath fallen out
Since thou didst journey to Ferrara.
Anselmo. All apprehension now I am,
And tremble while I listen.
Roselo. That night when thou didst bear
Me company, and I in gladness held
Sweet converse with my love,
