Ant. Come down: she comes like—O, no simile
Is precious, choice, or elegant enough
To illustrate her descent! Leap heart, she comes!
She comes! smile heaven, and softest southern wind
Kiss her cheek gently with perfumèd breath.
She comes! creation’s purity, admir’d,
Ador’d amazing rarity, she comes!
O, now, Antonio, press thy spirit forth
In following passion, knit thy senses close,
Heap up thy powers, double all thy man. 160
Enter Mellida, Rossaline, and Flavia.
She comes!
O, how her eyes dart wonder on my heart!
Mount blood! soul to my lips! taste Hebe’s cup:
Stand firm on deck, when beauty’s close fight’s[66] up.
Mel. Lady, your strange habit doth beget
Our pregnant thoughts, even great of much desire,
To be acquaint with your condition.
Ros. Good, sweet lady, without more ceremonies,
What country claims your birth? and, sweet, your name?
Ant. In hope your bounty will extend itself 170
In self-same nature of fair courtesy,
I’ll shun all niceness; my name’s Florizell,
My country Scythia; I am Amazon,
Cast on this shore by fury of the sea.
Ros. Nay, faith, sweet creature, we’ll not veil our names.
It pleas’d the font to dip me Rossaline;
That lady bears the name of Mellida,
The Duke of Venice’ daughter.
Ant. Madam, I am oblig’d to kiss your hand,
By imposition of a now dead man. 180
[To Mellida, kissing her hand.
Ros. Now, by my troth, I long, beyond all thought,
To know the man; sweet beauty, deign his name.