Amid.  A cedar, of your stature, would not cause Much jealousy.

Hip.  More than a shrub of yours.

Gons.  How eagerly these boys fall out for nothing!—­
Tell me, Hippolito, wert thou a woman,
Who would’st thou be?

Hip.  I would be Julia, sir, Because you love her.

Amid.  I would not be she,
Because she loves not you.
Hip.  True, Amideo;
And, therefore, I would wish myself a lady,
Who, I am sure, does infinitely love him.

Amid.  I hope that lady has a name?

Hip.  She has: 
And she is called Honoria, sister to
This Julia, and bred up at Barcelona;
Who loves him with a flame so pure and noble,
That, did she know his love to Julia,
She would beg Julia to make him happy.

Gons.  This startles me!

Amid.  Oh, sir, believe him not: 
They love not truly, who, on any terms,
Can part with what they love.

Gons.  I saw a lady
At Barcelona, of what name I know not,
Who, next to Julia, was the fairest creature
My eyes did e’er behold:  But, how camest thou
To know her?

Hip.  Sir, some other time I’ll tell you.

Amid.  It could not be Honoria, whom you saw;
For, sir, she has a face so very ugly,
That, if she were a saint for holiness,
Yet no man would seek virtue there.

Hip.  This is the lyingest boy, sir;—­I am sure
He never saw Honoria; for her face,
’Tis not so bad to frighten any man—­
None of the wits have libelled it.

Amid.  Don Roderick’s sister, Angelina, does
So far exceed her, in the ornaments
Of wit and beauty, though now hid from sight,
That, like the sun, (even when eclipsed) she casts
A yellowness upon all other faces.

Hip.  I’ll not say much of her, but only this,
Don Manuel saw not with my eyes, if e’er
He loved that Flanders shape; that lump of earth,
And phlegm together.

Amid.  You have often seen her,
It seems, by your description of her person: 
But I’ll maintain on any Spanish ground,
Whate’er she be, yet she is far more worthy
To have my lord her servant, than Honoria.

Hip.  And I’ll maintain Honoria’s right against her, In any part of all the world.

Gons.  You go Too far, to quarrel on so slight a ground.

Hip.  O pardon me, my lord, it is not slight: 
I must confess, I am so much concerned,
I shall not bear it long.

Amid.  Nor I, assure you.

Gons.  I will believe what both of you have said,
That Honoria, and Angelina,
Both equally are fair.

Amid.  Why did you name Honoria first?

Gons.  And, since you take their parts so eagerly
Henceforth I’ll call you by those ladies’ names: 
You, my Hippolito, shall be Honoria;
And you, my Amideo, Angelina.