Diana, the Countess of Belflor, has discovered that her personal
TEODORO: It's her!
TEODORO: Your servant, madam.
DIANA: A friend of mine, uncertain of her skill, has asked me to compose for her this love-note; for friendship's sake, I felt I should, but knowing so little of love, I want you to improve it. Here, read it.
TEODORO: Madam, how could I compete with what you've written? That would be presumptuous. Pray send it to your friend, I need not read it.
DIANA: Read it.
TEODORO: Your doubts astonish me. I've never used lovers' language; this must teach me how to.
DIANA: What, never, ever?
TEODORO: I've so many faults, I'm far too diffident to dare to love.
DIANA: Your diffidence explains, then, your disguising.
TEODORO: Me? Where, or when?
DIANA: They tell me that the steward saw you disguised last night.
TEODORO: Some prank, perhaps;
More about this monologue