"You well know, Signor Lorenzo Bentivoglio, that I never deceived your
sister, as my conscience and Heaven itself can bear witness; you know
also the diligence with which I have sought her, and the wish I have
felt to have my marriage with her celebrated publicly. But she is not to
be found, and my word cannot so considered eternally engaged to a
shadow. I am a young man, and am not so _blasé_ as to leave ungathered
such pleasures as I find on my path. Before I had ever seen Cornelia I
had given my promise to a peasant girl of this village, but whom I was
tempted to abandon by the superior charms of Cornelia, giving therein a
great proof of my love for the latter, in defiance of the voice of my
conscience. Now, therefore, since no one can marry a woman who does not
appear, and it is not reasonable that a man should eternally run after a
wife who deserts him, lest he should take to his arms one who abhors
him, I would have you consider, Signor Lorenzo, whether I can give you
any further satisfaction for an affront which was never intended to be
one; and further, I would have you give me your permission to accomplish
my first promise, and solemnise my marriage with the peasant girl, who
is now in this house."

While the duke spoke this, Lorenzo's frequent change of colour, and the
difficulty with which he forced himself to retain his seat, gave
manifest proof that anger was taking possession of all his senses. The
same feelings agitated Don Antonio and Don Juan, who were resolved not
to permit the duke to fulfil his intention, even should they be
compelled to prevent it by depriving him of life. Alfonso, reading these
resolves in their faces, resumed: "Endeavour to calm yourself, Signor
Lorenzo; and before you answer me one word, I will have you see the
beauty of her whom I desire to take to wife, for it is such that you
cannot refuse your consent, and it might suffice, as you will