Don. Tiberio, the Duke of Ferrara’s son, excellently horsed, all upon Flanders mares, is arrived at the court this very day, somewhat late in the night-time. 40
Herod. An excellent nuntius.
Don. Why, my gallants, I have had a good wit.
Herod. Yes, troth, but now ’tis grown like an almanac for the last year—past date; the mark’s out of thy mouth, Dondolo.
Nym. And what’s the prince’s ambassage? Thou art private with the duke; thou belongest to his close-stool.
Don. Why, every fool knows that; I know it myself, man, as well as the best man: he is come to solicit a marriage betwixt his father, the Duke of Ferrara, and our Duke of Urbin’s daughter, Dulcimel. 51
Nym. Pity of my passions! Nymphadoro shall lose one of his mistresses.
Herod. Nay, if thou hast more than one, the loss can ne’er be grievous, since ’tis certain he that loves many formally, never loves any violently.
Nym. Most trusted Frappatore, is my hand the weaker because it is divided into many fingers? No, ’tis the more strongly nimble. I do now love threescore and
nine ladies, all of them most extremely well, but I do love the princess most extremely best; but, in very sighing sadness, I ha’ lost all hope, and with that hope a lady that is most rare, most fair, most wise, most sweet, most—— 64