Gaspero:

Now to what you have heard; as no man can
Better than I, give you her Character;
For I have been both nurs'd, and train'd up to
Her petulant humours, and been glad to bear them,
Her Brother, my late Master, did no less:
Strong apprehensions of her beauty hath
Made her believe that she is more than woman:
And as there did not want those flatterers
'Bout the worlds Conquerour, to make him think,
And did perswade him that he was a god;
So there be those base flies, that will not stick
To buzze into her ears she is an Angel,
And that the food she feeds on is _Ambrosia_.

Gonzalo:

She should not touch it then, 'tis Poets fare.

Gaspero:

I may take leave to say, she may as well
Determine of her self to be a goddess,
With lesser flatterie than he a god:
For she does conquer more, although not farther.
Every one looks on her, dyes in despair,
And would be glad to do it actually,
To have the next age tell how worthily,