Gon. So, so, I say once more, go in.
[Exeunt Dulcimel and Philocalia.
I will not lose the glory of reproof.
Is this the office of ambassadors,
My Lord Tiberio?
Nay, duty of a son; nay, piety of a man?—
(A figure call’d in art gradatio:
With some learned, Climax)—to court a royal lady
For’s master, father, or perchance his friend,
And yet intend the purchase of his beauty 410
To his own use?
Tib. Your grace doth much amaze me.
Gon. Ay, feign dissemble; ’las! we are now grown old, weak-sighted; alas! any one fools us.
Tib. I deeply vow, my lord——
Gon. Peace, be not damn’d, have pity on your soul.
I confess, sweet prince, for you to love my daughter,
Young and witty,
Of equal mixture both of mind and body,
Is neither wondrous nor unnatural;
Yet to forswear and vow against one’s heart, 420
Is full of base, ignoble cowardice,
Since ’tis most plain, such speeches do contemn
Heaven and fear men (that’s sententious[216] now).
Tib. My gracious lord, if I unknowingly have err’d.
Gon. Unknowingly! can you blush, my lord?
Unknowingly! why, can you write these lines,
Present this scarf, unknowingly, my lord,
To my dear daughter? Um, unknowingly?
Can you urge your suit, prefer your gentlest love,
In your own right, to her too easy breast, 430
That, God knows, takes too much compassion on ye?
(And so she pray’d me say) unknowingly?