Brother, you are become an orator—
I know not, I, by what experience—
Too politic for me past all compare,
Since last I saw you; but content yourself:
The prince is meditating higher things.
Balthazar.
'Tis of thy beauty then, that conquers kings;
Of those thy tresses, Ariadne's twines,[202]
Wherewith my liberty thou hast surprised:
Of that thine ivory front, my sorrow's map,
Wherein I see no haven to rest my hope.
Bell'-Imperia.
To love and fear, and both at once, my lord,
In my conceit are things of more import,
Than women's wits are to be busied with.
Balthazar.
'Tis I that love.
Bell'-Imperia.
Whom?