OCT. [After considering him a moment.] You may leave me now, Laura, Francesca--all of you--and you would best go in At an early hour, instead of walking the gardens All night; I would have you with your wits About you in the morning. LAU. [Aside.] Oh, indeed? You would best go in yourself, lest the dew rust you, You sauce-pan! [Exeunt ladies.] OCT. Now, my good sir,--you may speak. GUI. [As if by way of conversation.] It is a long time, is it not, your daughter Is absent from the court? OCT. Why say you that? GUI. Why but to pass the time, till she returns? OCT. Nay, Guido. That is well enough for some, But not for me. I know the slant of your fancy; 'Tis not in that direction. GUI. Yet me thinks The sooner she is back again at court The happier for us both. OCT. "Us both?" What "both?" GUI. You Madam, and myself. OCT. And why for me? GUI. [Carefully.] Why, are you not her mother? OCT. Hah! [Pause.] Guido, What festers in your mind? Do you speak out now, If you await some aid from me. GUI. Madam, I have but this to say: if I were a woman With a marriageable daughter, and a King rode by, I'd have her at the window. OCT. So. I thought so. [With an entire change of manner.] Guido, what think you,--does she love the King,-- I mean Lorenzo's daughter? GUI. [Between his teeth.] Ay, she loves him. OCT. And loves he her? GUI. Oh, ay. He loves the moon, The wind in the cypress trees, his mother's portrait At seventeen, himself, his future children-- He loves her well enough. But had she blue eyes And yellow hair, and were afraid of snakes, He yet might love her more. OCT. You think so, Guido? I am content to learn you of that mind. There had occurred to me--some time ago, In fact--a similar fancy. And already My daughter is well on her way home. [Exeunt Guido and Octavia.] [Music, Enter Beatrice and Fidelio. Fidelio strums his lute softly throughout the next conversation, up to the words "and cease to mock me."] BEA. Fidelio, Were you ever in love? FID. I was never out of it. BEA. But truly? FID. Well. I was only out of it What time it takes a man to right himself And once again lose balance. Ah, indeed, 'Tis good to be in love, I have often noticed, The moment I fall out of love, that moment I catch a cold. BEA. Are you in love, then, now? FID. Ay, to be sure. BEA. Oh! Oh! With whom, Fidelio? Tell me with whom! FID. Why, marry, with yourself,-- That are the nearest to me,--and by the same troth, The farthest away. BEA. Go to, Fidelio! I am in earnest, and you trifle with me As if I were a child. FID. Are you not a child, then? BEA. Not any more. FID, How so? BEA. I am in love. FID. Oh--oh--oh, misery, misery, misery, misery! BEA. Why do you say that? FID. Say what? BEA. "Misery, misery." FID. It is a song. BEA. A song?