Oh, you are tired, tired, you are very tired. You must be rocked to sleep, and tucked in bed, And have your eyelids kissed to make you dream Of fairies! Come, dear, come. BIA. Oh, I do love you, Rose-Red! You are so sweet! Oh, I do love you So much!--so much! I never loved anyone The way that I love you! There is nobody In all the world so wonderful as you! [She throws her arms about Beatrice and clings to her.] Scene 3 [A room in the palace at Fiori. Lorenzo and Beatrice playing chess. Twilight.] LOR. You'll not be able to get out of that, I think, my girl, with both your castles gone. BEA. Be not so sure!--I have a horse still, father, And in a strong position: if I move him here, You lose your bishop; and if you take my bishop, You lose your queen. LOR. True, but with my two rooks Set here, where I can push them back and forth, My king is safe till worms come in and eat him. BEA. What say you then to this?--Will you take this pawn, Or will you not? LOR. [Studying the board.] Od's bones!--where did that come from? [Enter Octavia.] OCT. La, would you lose your eyesight, both of you?-- Fumbling about those chessmen in the dark? You, Beatrice, at least, should have more wit! LOR. "At least"--hm!--Did you hear her say, "at least," Bice, my daughter? BEA. Ay. But it is true The twilight comes before one knows it. LOR. Ay. 'Tis true, but unimportant. Nevertheless, I am a tractable old fellow.--Look you, I will but stay to map the lay of the pieces Upon this bit of letter. 'Tis from a king Who could not tell the bishop from the board,-- And yet went blind at forty.--A little chess By twilight, mark you, and all might have been well. [Enter Bianca.] BIA. Oh,--I've been looking everywhere for you? OCT. [Drily.] For me? BIA. Nay, mother,--for Beatrice. Bice, The rose is out at last upon that bush That never blossomed before,--and it is white As linen, just as I said 'twould be! BEA. Why, the bud Was redder than a radish! BIA. Ay, I know. But the blossom's white, pure white. Come out and see! [Politely.] Would you like to see it, mother? OCT. Nay, not now, child. Some other time. BEA. Father, we'll end the game Tomorrow; and do you not be scheming at it All night! LOR. Nay, I will not unfold the chart. BEA. But you remember well enough without; Promise me not to think of it. LOR. I' faith, You are a desperate woman. Ay, I promise. [Exeunt Bianca and Beatrice. Octavia seats herself. Pause.] OCT. I tell you, as I've told you often before, Lorenzo, 'tis not good for two young girls To be so much together!