Guido monologue — A Florentine Tragedy; La Sainte Courtisane

O, sweet Bianca! How can I leave thee now! Thy beauty made Two captives of my eyes, and they were mad To feast them on thy form, but now thy wit, The liberated perfume of a bud, Which while a bud seemed perfect, but now is That which can make its former self forgot: How can I leave the flower who loved the leaf? Till now I was the richest prince in Florence, I am a lover now would shun its throngs, And put away all state and seek retreat At Bellosguardo or Fiesole, Where roses in their fin’st profusion hide Some marble villa whose cool walls have rung A laughing echo to Decameron, And where thy laughter shall as gaily sound. Say thou canst love or with a silent kiss Instil that balmy knowledge on my soul.