SCENE II.
Ronca, Pandolfo, Cricca.
Ron. There's old Pandolfo, amorous as youthful May,
And grey as January: I'll attend him here.
Pan. Cricca, I seek thy aid, not thy cross counsel;
I am mad in love with Flavia, and must have her:
Thou spend'st thy reasons to the contrary,
Like arrows 'gainst an anvil: I love Flavia,
And must have Flavia.
Cri. Sir, you have no reason;
She's a young girl of sixteen, you of sixty.
Pan. I have no reason, nor spare room for any.
Love's harbinger hath chalk'd upon my heart,
And with a coal writ on my brain, for Flavia;[240]
This house is wholly taken up for Flavia.
Let reason get a lodging with her wit:
Vex me no more, I must have Flavia.
Cri. But, sir, her brother Lelio, under whose charge
She's now after her father's death, sware boldly,
Pandolfo never shall have Flavia.
Pan. His father, ere he went to Barbary,
Promis'd her me: who, be he live or dead,
Spite of a list[241] of Lelios, Pandolfo
Shall enjoy Flavia.
Cri. Sir, y' are too old.
Pan. I must confess, in years about threescore,
But in tough strength of body four-and-twenty,
Or few[242] months less. Love of Young Flavia,
More powerful than Medea's drugs, renews
All decay'd parts of man: my arteries,
Blown full with youthful spirits, move the blood
To a new business: my wither'd nerves grow plump
And strong, longing for action. Hence, thou poor prop
Of feebleness and age! walk with such sires,
[Throws away his staff.]
As with cold palsies shake away their strength,
And lose their legs with cureless gouts. Pandolfo
New-moulded is for revels, masques and music. Cricca,
String my neglected lute, and from my armoury
Scour my best sword, companion of my youth,
Without which I seem naked.
Cri. Your love, sir, like strong water
To a deplor'd sick man, quicks your feeble limbs
For a poor moment; but, after one night's lodging,
You'll fall so dull and cold, that Flavia
Will shriek, and leap from bed as from a sepulchre.
Shall I speak plainer, sir? she'll cuckold you—
Alas! she'll cuckold you.
Pan. What, me! a man of known discretion;
Of riches, years, and this grey gravity?
I'll satisfy'r with gold, rich clothes, and jewels.
Cri. Were't not far fitter urge your son Eugenio
To woo her for himself?
Pan. Cricca, begone!
Touch no more there: I will and must have Flavia.
Tell Lelio, if he grant m' his sister Flavia,
I'll give my daughter to him in exchange.
Begone, and find me here within this half-hour.