LUCREZIA.
Why do you sigh?
ALFONSO.
You are so full of bliss—
You contemplate me as I were a jewel.
LUCREZIA.
You are, and mine.
ALFONSO.
Why, you have many jewels.
LUCREZIA.
The gift of others: but this jewelled thing
Is you. Alfonso!—and the painters say
You are the loveliest boy in Italy.
You sigh again—why do you sigh? You shall not.