[Flerida, the Duchess of Parma, is in love with her secretary Frederick.
He loves her lady, Laura. Both Frederick and Laura are trying to keep
their secret from the Duchess.]
FREDERICK--Has Flerida questioned you
Aught about my love?
FABIO-- No, surely;
But I have made up my mind
That you are the prince of dunces,
Not to understand her wish.
FREDERICK--Said she something, then, about me?
FABIO--Ay, enough.
FREDERICK-- Thou liest, knave!
Wouldst thou make me think her beauty,
Proud and gentle though it be,
Which might soar e'en like the heron
To the sovereign sun itself,
Could descend with coward pinions
At a lowly falcon's call?
FABIO--Well, my lord, just make the trial
For a day or two; pretend
That you love her, and--
FREDERICK-- Supposing
That there were the slightest ground
For this false, malicious fancy
You have formed, there's not a chink
In my heart where it might enter,--
Since a love, if not more blest.
Far more equal than the other
Holds entire possession there.
FABIO--Then you never loved this woman
At one time?
FREDERICK-- No!