And where could chains so golden and so soft,
Clasped by a hand so fair, enfold a captive
In sweeter bondage? Trust me—you know not
The worth of smiles like hers, to deem them fit
For every eye to share!
Say, gentle lady—would you join the dance?
Teresa.
The dance? No—no!—My lord—I pray your pardon,
I meant not this abruptness.
Contarini.