_Cas_. The Earl! Oh no!
Tis not the Earl--but yet it is--and leaning
Upon his friend Baldazzar. Ah! welcome, sir!
(_Enter Politian and Baldazzar_.)
My lord, a second welcome let me give you
To Rome--his Grace the Duke of Broglio.
Father! this is the Earl Politian, Earl
Of Leicester in Great Britain.
[_Politian bows haughtily_.]
That, his friend
Baldazzar, Duke of Surrey. The Earl has letters,
So please you, for Your Grace.

_Duke_. Ha! ha! Most welcome
To Rome and to our palace, Earl Politian!
And you, most noble Duke! I am glad to see you!
I knew your father well, my Lord Politian.
Castiglione! call your cousin hither,
And let me make the noble Earl acquainted
With your betrothed. You come, sir, at a time
Most seasonable. The wedding--

_Politian_. Touching those letters, sir,
Your son made mention of--your son, is he not?--
Touching those letters, sir, I wot not of them.
If such there be, my friend Baldazzar here--
Baldazzar! ah!--my friend Baldazzar here
Will hand them to Your Grace. I would retire.

_Duke_. Retire!--so soon?

_Cas_. What ho! Benito! Rupert!
His lordship's chambers--show his lordship to them!
His lordship is unwell.

(_Enter Benito_.)

_Ben_. This way, my lord!

(_Exit, followed by Politian_.)

_Duke_. Retire! Unwell!

_Bal_. So please you, sir. I fear me
'Tis as you say--his lordship is unwell.
The damp air of the evening--the fatigue
Of a long journey--the--indeed I had better
Follow his lordship. He must be unwell.
I will return anon.

_Duke_. Return anon!
Now this is very strange! Castiglione!
This way, my son, I wish to speak with thee.
You surely were mistaken in what you said
Of the Earl, mirthful, indeed!--which of us said
Politian was a melan