AND. You know it, Celia, I have left nothing undone to prove the depth
of my passion. When I was but very young, my courage in the wars gained
me some consideration among the Venetians, and one time or other, and
without having too great an opinion of myself, I might, had I continued
in their service, have risen to some employment of distinction; but, for
your sake, I abandoned everything; the sudden change you produced in my
heart, was quickly followed by your lover joining the gipsies. Neither a
great many adventures nor your indifference have been able to make me
abandon my pursuit. Since that time, being by an accident separated from
you much longer than I could have foreseen, I spared neither time nor
pains to meet with you again. At last I discovered the old gipsy-woman,
and heard from her that for a certain sum of money, which was then of
great consequence to the gipsies, and prevented the dissolution of the
whole band, you were left in pledge in this neighbourhood. Full of
impatience, I flew hither immediately to break these mercenary chains,
and to receive from you whatever commands you might be pleased to give.
But, when I thought to see joy sparkle in your eyes, I find you pensive
and melancholy; if quietness has charms for you, I have sufficient means
at Venice, of the spoils taken in war, for us both to live there; but if
I must still follow you as before, I will do so, and my heart shall have
no other ambition than to serve you in whatever manner you please.
CEL. You openly display your affection for me. I should be ungrateful
not to be sensible of it. Besides, just now, my countenance does not
bear the impress of the feelings of my heart; my looks show that I have
a violent headache. If I have the least influence over you, you will
delay our voyage for at least three or four days, until my indisposition
has passed away.
AND. I shall stay as long as you like; I only wish to please you; let us
look for a house where you may be comfortable. Ho! here is a bill up
just at the right time.