FID. I' faith, I did but hear you say you are a fish-wife, And all the world knows that. LAU. Fear not, Carlotta, He is as dumb as a prophet. Every second word He utters, eats the one before it. Speak, But softly. CAR. Nay,'tis nothing.--Nay, by my head, It is a townful! 'Tis the way she has Of saying "that should be done like this, and this Like that!" The woman stirs me to that point I feel like a carrot in a stew,--I boil so I bump the kettle on all sides! LAU. My dear, Were you as plump as I you would not dare Become so angry. It would make your stays creak. CAR. Well, I am done. Fidelio, play me a dirge To put me in good spirits. Merry music Is sure to make me sad. [Fidelio plays. Pause.] CAR. 'Tis curious A woman like her should have a child like that-- So gentle and so pretty-mannered. Faith,-- FID. Hush! Hush! Here come the prettiest pair of birds That ever sat together on a bough so close You could not see the sky between. How now, Snow-White and Rose-Red! Are you reconciled One to another? [Enter Beatrice and Bianca, with their arms about one another.] BIA. Reconciled, Fidelio? We had not quarrelled! [Laughter from Fidelio and the ladies.] BEA. Do not listen to him, Bianca, 'tis but the jingling of his bells. FIDELIO. Do you make a better jest than that At once, or have the clappers cut from them. FID. Alas, alas,--all the good jests are made. I made them yesterday. CAR. If that be true, You would best become a wise man for a time, My friend,--there are plenty of wise words not yet said! FID. I shall say them all tomorrow. LAU. If you do, You will be stoned to death. FID. Not I. No one Will hear me.--Well, I am off.--I know an old man Who does not know the road runs past his house; And yet his bees make honey. [Exit Fidelio.] CAR. [Looking after him.] 'Tis the one wise fool We have among us. [Enter Grazia.] GRA. Oh, here you are, my ducklings! Always together, like a beggar and a flea! I looked for you at lunch-time; I forget now What for; but then 'twas a matter of more weight Than laying siege to a city,--la, how time Does carry one on! An hour is like an ocean, The way it separates you from yourself!-- [To Bianca and Beatrice.] What do you find to talk about all day? BEA. We do not talk all day. CAR. Nay, tis you, Grazia, That talk all day. BEA. We ride, and play at tennis, And row on the lake-- GRA. I know who does the rowing! BEA. Nay, not by any means! Bianca rows Nearly as well as I. CAR. And do you ride Nearly as well as she, Bianca? [All smile.] BIA. [Ruefully.] Nay. GRA. 'Tis an unkind question. There be few in Fiori Might answer, "Aye." Her Highness rides like a centaur. BIA. I'd never dare to mount the horse she rides.