The Laws of Candy Part 8

Erota:

No question of it: for In your self you do maintain an hundred.

Gonzalo:

And besides them I keep a n.o.ble train, Statists, and men of aclion: my purse is large and deep, Beyond the reach of riot to draw drie: Fortune did vie with Nature, to bestow (When I was born) her bountie equally: 'Tis not amiss you turn your eyes from me; For should you stand and gaze me in the face, You perish would, like _Semele_ by _Jove_: In _Venice_ at this instant there do lye No less than threescore Ladies in their graves, And in their Beds five hundred for my love.

Mochingo:

You lie more than they; yet it becomes him bravel[y]; Would I could walk and talk so! I'le endeavour it.

Erota:

Sir, do you know me?

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Gonzalo:

Yes, you were sister to the late Prince of _Candy_, Aunt to this young one: and I in _Venice_, Am born a Lord; equall to you in fortunes, In shape; I'le say no more, but view.

Mochingo:

There needs no more be said, were I a woman-- O he does rarely: in shape; I'le say no more, But view: who could say more, who better?

Man is no man, nor woman woman is, Unless they have a pride like one of these.

How poor the Prince of _Cyprus_ shews to him!

How poor another Lady unto her!

Carriage and State makes us seem demi-G.o.ds, Humility, like beasts, worms of the Earth.

[Enter _Antinous_, and _Decius_.]

Antinous:

Royal Lady, I kiss your hand.

Erota:

Sir, I know you not.

Annophel:

O my n.o.ble Brother, welcom from the wars.

Antinous:

Dear Sister.

Annophel:

Where is my Father, that you come without him?

We have news of your success: he has his health I hope?

Antinous:

Yes Sister, he has his health, but is not well.

Annophel:

How not well? what Riddles do yo[u] utter?

Antinous:

I'le tell you more in private.

Gonzalo:

n.o.ble Sir, I cannot be unmindfull of your merit, Since I last heard it: you are a hopefull youth, And (indeed) the Soul of _Candy_.

I must speak my thoughts.

Annophel:

The Prince of _Cyprus_ Brother, good _Decius_.

Antinous:

I am his Servant.

Philander:

You are the Patron of your Countrie, Sir, So your unimitable deeds proclaim you, It is no language of my own, but all mens.

Gonzalo:

Your Enemies must needs acknowledge it: Then do not think it flatterie in your friends, For if they had a heart, they could not want a tongue.

Erota:

Is this your Brother _Annophil_?

Annophel:

Yes Madam.

Erota:

Your name's _Antinous_?

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Antinous: