The fortunate, with reason good, extol
The goddess Fortune—give her titles high—
Call her Minerva—call her what they will—
Take her blind gifts for just reward, and wear
Her wind-blown favour as a badge of merit.
"Tasso.—No need to speak more plainly. 'Tis enough.
I see into thy soul—I know thee now,
And all thy life I know. Oh, that the princess
Had sounded thee as I! But never waste
Thy shafts of malice of the eye and tongue
Against this laurel-wreath that crowns my brow,
The imperishable garland. 'Tis in vain.
First be so great as not to envy it,
Then perhaps thou may'st dispute.
"Antonio. Thyself art prompt
To justify my slight esteem of thee.
The impetuous boy with violence demands
The confidence and friendship of the man.
Why, what unmannerly deportment this!
"Tasso.—Better what you unmannerly may deem,
Than what I call ignoble.
"Antonio. There remains
One hope for thee. Thou still art young enough
To be corrected by strict discipline.
"Tasso.—Not young enough to bow myself to idols