LOR. As you say, Octavia. For myself, I must confess It seems a natural thing, enough, that youth Should seek out youth. And if they are better pleased Talking together than listening to us, I find it not unnatural. What have we To say to children?--They are as different From older folk as fairies are from them. OCT. "Talking together," Lorenzo! What have they To talk about, save things they might much better Leave undiscussed?--you know what I mean,--lovers, And marriage, and all that--if that is all! One never knows--it is impossible To hear what they are saying; they either speak In whispers, or burst out in fits of laughter At some incredible nonsense. There is nothing So silly as young girls at just that age.-- At just Bianca's age, that is to say. As for the other,--as for Beatrice, She's older than Bianca, and I'll not have her Putting ideas into my daughter's head! LOR. Fear not, my love. Your daughter's head will doubtless, In its good time, put up its pretty hair, 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.