Our loves reciprocal shall be still dust,
240Which into exile packs unlawful lust.'
As they discours'd Don Fuco entered in,
With stately garbs befitting such a one,
His body shellèd in a satin skin
Of azure dye, bestarred with topaz stone,
A milk-white beaver, with an ostrich plume,
His very rowels spake a loud perfume.
Having composed his hingèd looks, he glanced
With piercing eyes upon her curious face,