FLA. But other fears oppress me: methinks I see Antonio, my old father, new-return'd, Whom all intelligence gave drown'd this three months,[305] Enforcing me to marry th' fool Pandolfo, Thus to obtain Sulpitia for himself; And so last night I dream'd, and ever since Have been so scar'd, that, if you haste[n] not, Expect my death. EUG. Dreams flow from thoughts of things we most desire Or fear; and seldom prove true prophets; would they did! Then were I now in full possession Of my best Flavia, as I hope I shall be. CRI. Sir, pray take your leave: this is to no end, 'Twill but increase your grief and hers. EUG. Farewell, Sweet Flavia; rest contented with assurance Of my best love and service. FLA. Farewell, Eugenio. [_Exeunt_ EUGENIO _and_ CRICCA. SCENE IX. SULPITIA, FLAVIA. SUL. Flavia, I kiss your hands. FLA. Sulpitia, I pray you pardon me; I saw you not. SUL. I' faith, you have Some fixed thoughts draw your eyes inward, When you see not your friends before you. FLA. True; and, I think, the same that trouble you. SUL. Then 'tis the love of a young gentleman, And bitter hatred of an old dotard. FLA. 'Tis so. Witness your brother Eugenio, and the rotten carcase of Pandolfo. Had I a hundred hearts, I should want room to entertain his love and the other's hate. SUL. I could say as much, were't not sin to slander the dead. Miserable wenches! How have we offended our fathers, that they should make us the price of their dotage, the medicines of their griefs, that have more need of physic ourselves? I must be frostbitten with the cold of your dad's winter, that mine may thaw his old ice with the spring of your sixteen. I thank my dead mother, that left me a woman's will in her last testament. That's all the weapons we poor girls can use, and with that will I fight 'gainst father, friends, and kindred, and either enjoy Lelio, or die in the field in his quarrel. FLA. Sulpitia, you are happy that can withstand your fortune with so merry a resolution. SUL. Why should I twine mine arms to cables,[306] and sigh my soul to air? Sit up all night like a watching-candle,[307] and distil my brains through my eyelids. Your brother loves me, and I love your brother; and where these two consent, I would fain see a third to hinder us. FLA. Alas! our sex is most wretched, nursed up from infancy in continual slavery. No sooner able to prey for ourselves, but they brail and hud us[308] so with sour awe of parents, that we dare not offer to bate[309] at our own desires. And whereas it becomes men to vent their amorous passions at their pleasure, we (poor souls) must rake up our affections in the ashes of a burnt heart, not daring to sigh without excuse of the spleen or fit of the mother.