"As gentle and as jocund as to jest
Go I to fight."
[86] Five and, omitted, 1623, '33.
[87] We, 1618, '23, '33.
[ACT II.]
Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar.
Lorenzo.
My lord, though Bell'-Imperia seem thus coy,
Let reason hold you in your wonted joy:
In time the savage bull sustains the yoke;
In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure;
In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak;
In time the flint[88] is pierc'd with softest shower;
And she in time will fall from her disdain,
And rue[89] the sufferance of your friendly pain.
Balthazar.
No, she is wilder, and more hard withal,
Than beast or bird, or tree, or stony wall:[90]
But wherefore blot I Bell'-Imperia's name?
It is my fault, not she, that merits blame.
My feature is not to content her sight;
My words are rude, and work her no delight:
The lines I send her are but harsh and ill,
Such as do drop from Pan and Marsyas'[91] quill.
My presents are not of sufficient cost,
And being worthless, all my labour's lost.
Yet might she love me for my valiancy:[92]
Ay, but that's slander'd by captivity.
Yet might she love me to content her sire:
Ay, but her reason masters his[93] desire.
Yet might she love me, as her brother's friend:
Ay, but her hopes aim at some other end.
Yet might she love me to uprear her state:
Ay, but perhaps she hopes[94] some nobler mate.
Yet might she love me as her beauty's thrall:
Ay, but I fear she cannot love at all.
Lorenzo.