To bid me tell what well thou knowest already.

Thou know'st I did. And when did love take thee?

Asan. I was wrapt up in spleen and haughty pride,

When, looking up, a great contentment took me,

Shed from thy gracious eyes. Nought else I saw,

Than thy dear self.

Gycia. And hadst thou ever loved?

54

54

Asan.

Never, dear Gycia.

I have been so rapt in warlike enterprises

Or in the nimble chase, all my youth long,

That never had I looked upon a woman

With thought of love before, though it may be

That some had thought of me, being a Prince

And heir of Bosphorus.

Gycia.

Not for thyself;

That could not be. Deceiver!

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