Marin. And there they run for freshest news;
The fruit of knowledge being well-worn shoes. [Sylvia appears at the balcony.
Sylvia. Good gentlemen, what means this fray?
Roselo. Go, good Marin, and tell their names.
Sylvia. Hist! hist! gentlemen, I pray.
Marin. Senor, 'tis you the lady from the balcon calls;
I am a man, no gentleman within Ferrara's walls.
Roselo. What would you, lady?
Sylvia. Who are the fellows to this noisy brawl?
Roselo. If thou wilt listen, I will tell thee all.
Sylvia. I thank thee, stranger.
Roselo. Know, then, fair lady, we are twain
Who with our rapiers did prevent
A most unseemly brawl 'tween six
Who, coming here to sing beneath
Thy lattice high, we've chased them hence,
And now return to hold us at command.
Sylvia. Who, then, art thou?
Roselo. Roselo Montes, at your feet.
Sylvia. Most welcome, sir; but 'gainst six,
Thou didst then hold audacious odds.
Roselo. Then thou dost owe us thanks, fair Sylvia,
For being thus audacious in thy cause.
Sylvia. What news dost from Verona bring?
Roselo. Ah me! 'tis this. Julia Castelvin weds.
Sylvia. And thou dost sigh so deeply—why?
Roselo. I sigh'd because mine enemies are strong,
And having little faith in Julia's love for long.
Sylvia. It grieves me sore to see thee heavy-hearted go.
Roselo. My grief is deep, and yet I glory
In such depth of woe for love.
