Pyrr. I wait upon you, sir.
For if your hostship I forget, and leave
The fees of grace unpaid, I yet must know
You are my father's friend. Say what you will,
My lord.
Pel. That word undears me! Let your tongue
Breach colder custom and give me a name
That brings me near in love as Stesilaus.
Wilt call me father, Pyrrha?
Pyrr. [Retreating] You, my lord?
Pel. They've frozen her, poor child! Must blow more warm.
Indeed a father. Call me what I am,
For so I love you, Pyrrha.
Pyrr. Is it thus
The Athens sages talk?
Pel. Ay, we're not cut
Of ice as Spartans are. Here your poor heart
Shall know what sun is, and the Springs you've lost,
Betrayed without a bloom in frigid Sparta,
In Athens shall blow fair. You are amazed,
My sweet, but by this kiss——
Pyrr. [Giving him a blow] You goose-eyed goat!
I strike not at your years, Lord Pelagon,
But at your mind which has not come of age
And gives me elder right.
[Exit, middle left. While Pelagon is recovering, enter Stesilaus, upper right]
Pel. [Welcoming the interruption] You, Stesilaus?
So soon, friend, from the Assembly?
Ste. Late, sir, late!
More haste had been more prudence.