Florence impersonate, my visible head,
As I am over Puccio,—taking life
Directly from her eye! They give me you:
But do you cross me, set me half to work?
I enjoy nothing—though I will, for once!
Decide, shall we join battle? may I wait?
Brac. Let us compound the matter; wait till noon:
Then, no arrival,—
Lur. Ah, noon comes too fast!
I wonder, do you guess why I delay