Marin. Heed you the dangers which surround us now;
We have, I feel, a thousand deaths 'tween this
And fair Ferrara's gates to brave.
Pray kick away these phrenzies you call love;
And as for sighs, pray give them to the air above.
Let Lady Julia wed anew, and if as wife she dares,
She'll wed, methinks, a double sum of cares.
Roselo. Marry. That she should marry!
Marin. Good Heavens, how you shout!
Roselo. Who could have dream'd that in such angel shape
The fickle, faithless woman dwelt?
The angels move like quicken'd thought from pole to pole;
Thou, Julia, like them dost course this sphere,
And flash as lightning down from heaven's vault
To lowest hell. Unhappy me, to trust so much
Those eyes' most sweet discourse, deceitful
In their wondrous light and sheen—
Kindling bright hopes, and fanning fickle love
Which holds high centre in her melting glance,
So women's weeping eyes unstable water drop;
My tears are water too, but cannot quench
The raging fire which doth consume my soul!
No, 'twas not madness thus to love,
For who can love as he who much esteems?
Oh, thou sweet sad cause of all my woe,
Thy wondrous beauty did entrance me so;
And though thy beauty nought can e'er outshine,
Thou didst so match high heaven in thy love,
That truth and beauty equal balance held.
Ungracious Julia! Know'st thou on whom
Thy fickle heart is fix'd anew?
Look that thou knowest him well;
