Cla. Oh Silvio, let me speak that none may hear me,
None but thy truth: I have lov'd this Lady long,
Long given away my life to her devotion,
Long dwelt upon that beauty to my ruine.
Sil. Do's she know this?
Cla. No, there begins my misery,
Ixion-like, I have only yet clasp'd clouds,
And fed upon poor empty dreams that starve me.
Sil. And what do you mean to do now?
Cla. Though I dye for't.
Though all the tortures in the world hung on me,
Arm'd with imperious Love, I stand prepar'd now,
With this to reach her Chamber: there to see her,
And tell her boldly with what truth I love her.
Sil. 'Twill not be easily done Sir.
Cla. Oh my Silvio,
The hardest things are sweetest in possession.
Sil. Nor will shew much discretion.
Cla. Love is blind man,
And he that looks for reason there far blinder.
Sil. Have ye consider'd ripely?