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As Dutchmen read of earthquakes in Calabria, And never stop to cry alack-a-day! For me there is but one of all the sex, Who still shall hold her station in my breast, Midst all the changes of inconstant fortune; Because I'm passing sure she loves me well, And for my sake a sleepless pillow finds When rumour tells bad tidings of the war; Because I know her love will never change, Nor make me prove uneasy jealousy.

Bas. Happy art thou! who is this wond'rous woman?

Ros. It is mine own good mother, faith and truth!

''Bas. smiling.'' Give me thy hand; I love her dearly too. Rivals we are not, though our love is one.

Ros. And yet I might be jealous of her love, For she bestows too much of it on thee, Who hast no claim but to a nephew's share.

''Bas. going.'' I'll meet thee some time hence. I must to Court.

Ros. A private conf'rence will not stay thee long. I'll wait thy coming near the palace gate.

Bas. 'Tis to the publick Court I mean to go.

Ros. I thought you had determin'd otherwise.

Bas. Yes, but on farther thought it did appear As though it would be failing in respect At such a time—That look doth wrong me, Rosinberg! For on my life, I had determin'd thus Ere I beheld—Before we enter'd Mantua.