Re-enter Francisco de Medicis.
I ne'er loved my complexion till now,
'Cause I may boldly say, without a blush,
I love you.
Fran. de Med. Your love is untimely sown; there's a spring at Michaelmas, but 'tis but a faint one: I am sunk in years, and I have vowed never to marry.
Zanche. Alas! poor maids get more lovers than husbands: yet you may mistake my wealth. For, as when ambassadors are sent to congratulate princes, there's commonly sent along with them a rich present, so that, though the prince like not the ambassador's person nor words, yet he likes well of the presentment; so I may come to you in the same manner, and be better loved for my dowry than my virtue.
Fran. de Med. I'll think on the motion.
Zanche. Do: I'll now
Detain you no longer. At your better leisure
I'll tell you things shall startle your blood:
Nor blame me that this passion I reveal;
Lovers die inward that their flames conceal. [Exit.
Fran. de Med. Of all intelligence this may prove the best:
Sure, I shall draw strange fowl from this foul nest.
[Exit.
SCENE II.—Another Apartment in the Same.
Enter Marcello and Cornelia.
Cor. I hear a whispering all about the court
You are to fight: who is your opposite?
What is the quarrel?
Mar. 'Tis an idle rumour.
Cor. Will you dissemble? sure, you do not well
To fright me thus: you never look thus pale,
But when you are most angry. I do charge you
Upon my blessing,—nay, I'll call the duke,
And he shall school you.
Mar. Publish not a fear
Which would convert to laughter: 'tis not so.
Was not this crucifix my father's?
Cor. Yes.
Mar. I have heard you say, giving my brother suck,
He took the crucifix between his hands,
And broke a limb off.
Cor. Yes; but 'tis mended.
Enter Flamineo.