Dutch. Keep that Sir, for the Saint ye have vow'd it to.
Syen. I keep a life for her: since your Grace pleases
To jump so happily into the matter,
I come indeed to claim your Royal promise,
The beauteous Belvidere in marriage,
I come to tender her my youth, my fortune,
My everlasting love.
Enter Belvidere, Bartello, Rhodope, Attendants.
Dutch. You are like to win, Sir:
All is forgot, forgiven too; no sadness
My good Child, you have the same heart still here,
The Duke of Syenna, Child, pray use him nobly.
Sy. An Angel beauty.
Bel. Your Grace is fairly welcome,
And what in modesty a blushing maid may
Wish to a Gentleman of your great goodness;
But wishes are too poor a pay for Princes.
Sy. You have made me richer than all States and Titles,
One kiss of this white hand's above all honors,
My faith dear Lady, and my fruitful service,
My duteous zeal—
Bel. Your Grace is a great Master,
And speaks too powerfully to be resisted:
Once more you are welcome, Sir, to me you are welcome,
To her that honors ye; I could say more Sir,
But in anothers tongue 'twere better spoken.
Sy. As wise as fair, you have made your servant happy;
I never saw so rich a Mine of sweetness.
Dutch. Will your Grace please, after your painful journey
To take some rest? Are the Dukes Lodgings ready?