I wronged thee ages by a moment’s thought
That thou wouldst shrink ... Then is our marriage fixed?
Mar. There’s none can hinder it.
Pal.O, blessed joy!
Yet how can I be sure, love, that thou knowest,
Finding the word so easy, what a mountain
There lies to lift? Pledging to me and mine
Thy heart this hour, a hundred thousand stings
Will plague thee from this moment, to drive thee back.
Mar. Try me, Giovanni.