Osorio. Come, come, this foolery
Lives only in thy looks—thy heart disowns it.
Ferdinand. I can bear this, and anything more grievous
From you, my lord!—but how can I serve you here?
Osorio. Why, you can mouth set speeches solemnly, [25]
Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics.
[Ferdinand. I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.
Osorio. In blunt terms] you can play the sorcerer.
She has no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true.
Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense: [30]
Yet still a tale of spirits works on her.
She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive,
Shivers, and cannot keep the tears in her eye.
Such ones do love the marvellous too well
Not to believe it. We will wind her up 35
With a strange music, that she knows not of,
With fumes of frankincense, and mummery—
Then leave, as one sure token of his death,
That portrait, which from off the dead man's neck
I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest. [40]
Ferdinand (with hesitation). Just now I should have cursed the man who told me
You could ask aught, my lord! and I refuse.
But this I cannot do.
Osorio. Where lies your scruple?
Ferdinand. That shark Francesco.
Osorio. O! an o'ersiz'd gudgeon!
I baited, sir, my hook with a painted mitre, [45]
And now I play with him at the end of the line.
Well—and what next?