Chatter, fall dumb, go moping in the rain,
Be turned by flattery, be bowed with weeping,
Grow grey, and shake with palsy over a staff,--
All this, my love, as empty of ideas
As even the fondest mother's heart could wish.

OCT. You mock me, sir?

LOR. I am but musing aloud,
As is my fashion.--And indeed, my dear,
What is the harm in lovers-and-all-that
That virtuous maidens may not pass the time
With pretty tales about them?--After all,
Were it not for the years of looking forward to it
And looking back upon it, love would be
Only the commonest bird-song in the hedge,--
And men would have more time to think,--and less
To think about.

OCT. That may be. But young girls
Should not be left alone too much together.
They grow too much attached. They grow to feel
They cannot breathe apart. It is unhealthy.

LOR. It may be true. But as for me, whom youth
Abandoned long ago, I look on youth
As something fresh and sweet, like a young green tree,
Though the wind bend it double.--'Tis you, 'tis I,
'Tis middle age the fungus settles on.

OCT. Your head is full of images. You have
No answers. I shall do as I spoke of doing,
And separate them for a little while,
Six months, maybe a year. I shall send Bianca
Away within a fortnight. That will cure them.
I know. I know. Such friendships do not last.

CURTAIN

ACT II

Scene 1--Four months later.

[Scene: A garden, near the palace at Fiori. The young Duke
Guido is discovered standing with one foot resting on a
garden-bench, looking off, lost in thought. Enter Giovanni.]

GIO. That is a merry face you wear, my Guido!
Now that the young King Mario visits the court
And walks all morning in the woods with the Princess,
Or gives her fencing lessons,--upon my word,
You are as gay as a gallows!

GUI. She is never
Alone with him. Laura--Carlotta--someone
Is always there.

GIO. Ah--ah--but even so,
No matter who is there, I tell you, lovers
Are always alone!

GUI. Why do you say these things,
Giovanni?

GIO. Because I love you, you lean wolf,
And love to watch you snuff the air. My friend,
There was a time I thought it all ambition
With you, a secret itching to be king--
And not so secret, either--an open plot
To marry a girl who will be Queen some morning.
But now at times I wonder. You have a look
As of a man that's nightly gnawed by