UGOLINO.
11
Ser. Nay; but you must,—we will not part with you.
Come, come, you must along.
Orsi. Hark, ye, Serassi!
Had I your receipt for making love,
And could hope equal sport amongst these fair ones,
I would not baulk you—but I know full well,
That where you angle, I shall catch no fish.
I'll ride, run, fence, game, drink with any one;
But for a soft tale in a wench's ear,
I am no match for you. I'll wager now,
A purse of fifty ducats, you have here
No less than ten appointments.
Ser. By my life!
Or by my lady's glove, an oath more suitable,
You do me wrong, Orsino. Two fair eyes,
Have thrown so strong a spell about my heart,
That save their own, the brightest looks fall forceless,
As wintry sunbeams on a frozen lake
That wanton on't, but thaw not. I should hold it
Treason most foul, to her, my lady liege,
Were I to throw away but one poor sigh
Upon the fairest she, that ever themed
A lover's rhapsody.
Ang. [Aside.] I shall remember it. [Exit Angel., l.
Cali. What say you, now, Orsino—will you come?
Orsi. No—I'll to bed, sleep and dream of seeing
Serassi in a Friar's cloak and cowl,
Or anything that's most improbable,
'Twill be a proper sequel to his fable,
Of love and constancy.
Enter Servant, s. e. r.
Serv. My lord! My lord Serassi! [Quickly spoken.
Orsi. Grammercy, friend, what's lost? thou seem'st the crier.
Some lady's reputation stolen away, or is't
The conscience of a not’ry that's mislaid?
Serv. Your pardon,
I would speak with the Marquis.
Cali. There he stands.
Ser. What would'st thou?
Serv. Sir, my lady bade me haste,
And if you had not enter'd the Palazzo,
To pray you to return: this note, my lord,
Will further speak her wishes. [Gives a note.
Orsi. Look you, there, now,
Her ladyship's opinion jumps with mine;
She fears, you see, to trust him.
Ser. Tell the Countess,
I will return upon the instant.—[Exit Servant, r.] Gentlemen,
'Tis now my turn to be a runaway—
Come, come, you must along.
Orsi. Hark, ye, Serassi!
Had I your receipt for making love,
And could hope equal sport amongst these fair ones,
I would not baulk you—but I know full well,
That where you angle, I shall catch no fish.
I'll ride, run, fence, game, drink with any one;
But for a soft tale in a wench's ear,
I am no match for you. I'll wager now,
A purse of fifty ducats, you have here
No less than ten appointments.
Ser. By my life!
Or by my lady's glove, an oath more suitable,
You do me wrong, Orsino. Two fair eyes,
Have thrown so strong a spell about my heart,
That save their own, the brightest looks fall forceless,
As wintry sunbeams on a frozen lake
That wanton on't, but thaw not. I should hold it
Treason most foul, to her, my lady liege,
Were I to throw away but one poor sigh
Upon the fairest she, that ever themed
A lover's rhapsody.
Ang. [Aside.] I shall remember it. [Exit Angel., l.
Cali. What say you, now, Orsino—will you come?
Orsi. No—I'll to bed, sleep and dream of seeing
Serassi in a Friar's cloak and cowl,
Or anything that's most improbable,
'Twill be a proper sequel to his fable,
Of love and constancy.
Enter Servant, s. e. r.
Serv. My lord! My lord Serassi! [Quickly spoken.
Orsi. Grammercy, friend, what's lost? thou seem'st the crier.
Some lady's reputation stolen away, or is't
The conscience of a not’ry that's mislaid?
Serv. Your pardon,
I would speak with the Marquis.
Cali. There he stands.
Ser. What would'st thou?
Serv. Sir, my lady bade me haste,
And if you had not enter'd the Palazzo,
To pray you to return: this note, my lord,
Will further speak her wishes. [Gives a note.
Orsi. Look you, there, now,
Her ladyship's opinion jumps with mine;
She fears, you see, to trust him.
Ser. Tell the Countess,
I will return upon the instant.—[Exit Servant, r.] Gentlemen,
'Tis now my turn to be a runaway—
