Lor. As you say, sir, that Rome was very ancient.
[To Pedro.] I leave the choice to you; fair, black, tall, low,
Let her but have a nose; and you may tell her,
I am rich in jewels, rings, and bobbing pearls,
Plucked from Moors' ears.
Alph. Lorenzo.
Lor. Somewhat busy
About affairs relating to the public.—
A seasonable girl, just in the nick now—[To Pedro.
[Trumpets within.
Ped. I hear the general's trumpet. Stand and mark
How he will be received; I fear, but coldly.
There hung a cloud, methought, on Bertran's brow.
Lor. Then look to see a storm on Torrismond's;
Looks fright not men. The general has seen Moors
With as bad faces; no dispraise to Bertran's.
Ped. 'Twas rumoured in the camp, he loves the queen.
Lor. He drinks her health devoutly.
Alph. That may breed bad blood betwixt him and Bertran.
Ped. Yes, in private.
But Bertran has been taught the arts of court,
To gild a face with smiles, and leer a man to ruin,
O here they come.—
392 Enter Torrismond and Officers on one Side, Bertran attended on the other; they embrace, Bertran bowing low.