Alph. Hip. Hier. We all kneel for the prince.
Cont. Nor can it stand
With your mercy, that are gracious to strangers,
To be cruel to your own.
Coz. But art thou certain
I shall behold her at the best?
Char. If ever
She was handsome, as it fits not me to say so,
She is now much better'd.
Coz. Rise; thou art but dead,
If this prove otherwise. Lidia, appear,
And feast an appetite almost pined to death
With longing expectation to behold
Thy excellencies: thou, as beauty's queen,
Shalt censure[92] the detractors. Let my nephew
Be led in triumph under her command;
We'll have it so; and Sanazarro tremble
To think whom he hath slander'd. We'll retire
Ourselves a little, and prepare to meet
A blessing, which imagination tells us
We are not worthy of: and then come forth,
But with such reverence, as if I were
Myself the priest, the sacrifice my heart,
To offer at the altar of that goodness
That must or kill or save me. [Exit.
Char. Are not these
Strange gambols in the duke?
Alph. Great princes have,
Like meaner men, their weakness.
Hip. And may use it
Without control or check.
Cont. 'Tis fit they should;
Their privilege were less else, than their subjects'.
Hier. Let them have their humours; there's no crossing them. [Exeunt.