ANNICCA.
What! he leaves Naples?
RIBERA.
Yea, but I know not when; he seems to wait
Momently, orders from his Majesty
To travel onward.
ANNICCA (aside).
Would he were well away!
RIBERA.
What do you mutter? I grow deaf this side.
ANNICCA.
I spake not, father. I regret with you
The Prince should leave us; you have more enjoyed
His young companionship than any strangers
These many years.
RIBERA.
Well, well, enough of him.
He hath a winning air—so far, so good.
I know not that I place more trust in him
Than in another. 'T is a lying world;
I am too old now to be duped or dazzled
By fair externals.
Enter MARIA, carrying a kirtle full of flowers.
MARIA.
Father, see! my roses
Have blossomed over night; I bring you some
To prank your study. Sister, Don Tommaso
Seeks you below.
ANNICCA (rising).
I will go to meet him. Father,
Until to-morrow.
[Embraces MARIA and exits. MARIA sits by her father's side and
displays her flowers.]
RIBERA.
Truly, a gorgeous show!
Pink, yellow, crimson, white—which is the fairest?
Those with the deepest blush should best become you—
Nay, they accord not with your hair's red gold;
The white ones suit you best—pale, innocent,
So flowers too can lie! Is not that strange?
[MARIA looks at him in mingled wonder and affright. He roughly
brushes aside all the flowers upon the floors, than picks one up
and carefully plucks it to pieces.]
I think not highly of your flowers, girl;
I have plucked this leaf; it has no heart.
See there!
[He laughs contemptuously.]
MARIA.
What have I done? Alas! what mean you?
Have you then lost your reason?