Leop. You mistake me:
That you are made my prisoner, may prove
The birth of your good fortune. I do find
A winning language in your tongue and looks;
Nor can a suit by you mov'd be deni'd,
And therefore of a prisoner you must be
The Victors advocate.
Zen. To whom?
Leap. A Lady:
In whom all graces that can perfect beauty
Are friendly met. I grant that you are fair:
And had I not seen her before, perhaps
I might have sought to you.
Zen. This I hear gladly.
Leap. To this incomparable Lady I will give you,
(Yet being mine, you are already hers)
And to serve her is more than to be free,
At least I think so; and when you live with her,
If you will please to think on him that brought you
To such a happiness, for so her bounty
Will make you think her service, you shall ever
Make me at your devotion.
Zen. All I can do, Rest you assur'd of.
Leap. At night I'le present you, Till when I am your Guard.
Zen. Ever your servant. [Exeunt.
Enter Arnoldo and Rutilio.
Arn. To what are we reserv'd?