Giov. Owe me duty!
I do profess (and when I do deny it,
Good fortune leave me!) you have been to me
A second father, and may justly challenge,
For training up my youth in arts and arms,
As much respect and service as was due
To him that gave me life. And did you know, sir,
Or will believe from me, how many sleeps
Good Charomonte hath broken, in his care
To build me up a man, you must confess
Chiron, the tutor to the great Achilles,
Compared with him, deserves not to be named.
And if my gracious uncle, the great duke,
Still holds me worthy his consideration,
Or finds in me aught worthy to be loved,
That little rivulet flow'd from this spring;
And so from me report him.
Cont. Fame already
Hath fill'd his highness' ears with the true story
Of what you are, and how much better'd by him;
And 'tis his purpose to reward the travail
Of this grave sir with a magnificent hand:
For though his tenderness hardly could consent
To have you one hour absent from his sight,
For full three years he did deny himself
The pleasure he took in you, that you, here,
From this great master, might arrive unto
The theory of those high mysteries
Which you, by action, must make plain in court.
'Tis, therefore, his request, (and that, from him,
Your excellence must grant a strict command,)
That instantly (it being not five hours' riding)
You should take horse and visit him. These his letters
Will yield you further reasons. [Delivers a packet.
Cal. To the court!
Farewell the flower, then, of the country's garland.
This is our sun, and when he's set we must not
Expect or spring or summer, but resolve
For a perpetual winter.
Char. Pray you, observe
[Giovanni reading the letters.
The frequent changes in his face.
Cont. As if
His much unwillingness to leave your house
Contended with his duty.
Char. Now he appears
Collected and resolved.
Giov. It is the duke!
The duke, upon whose favour all my hopes
And fortunes do depend; nor must I check
At his commands for any private motives
That do invite my stay here, though they are
Almost not to be master'd. My obedience,
In my departing suddenly, shall confirm
I am his highness' creature; yet I hope
A little stay to take a solemn farewell
Of all those ravishing pleasures I have tasted
In this my sweet retirement, from my guardian
And his incomparable daughter, cannot meet
An ill construction.
Cont. I will answer that:
Use your own will.
Giov. I would speak to you, sir,
In such a phrase as might express the thanks
My heart would gladly pay; but——
Char. I conceive you:
And something I would say; but I must do it
In that dumb rhetoric which you make use of;
For I do wish you all——I know not how,
My toughness melts, and, spite of my discretion,
I must turn woman. [Embraces Giovanni.