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That art to me as secret and as dear

As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was:

Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,

If I achieve not this young modest girl.

Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;

Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.

Tra.

Master, it is no time to chide you now,

Affection is not rated from the heart.

If love have touch’d you, nought remains but so,

“Redime te captum quam queas minimo.”

Luc.

Gramercies, lad. Go forward, this contents;

The rest will comfort, for thy counsel’s sound.

Tra.

Master, you look’d so longly on the maid,

Perhaps you mark’d not what’s the pith of all.

Luc.

O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,

Such as the daughter of Agenor had,

That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,

When with his knees he kiss’d the Cretan strond.

Tra.

Saw you no more? Mark’d you not how her sister

Began to scold, and raise up such a storm

That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?

Luc.

Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,

And with her breath she did perfume the air.