Saying, by gesture of repugnance, just
"Sire, you are regal, puissant, and so forth,
But—young you have been, are not, nor will be!"
In vain the mother nods, winks, bustles up,
"Count, girls incline to mature worth like you!
As for Pompilia, what 's flesh, fish or fowl
To one who apprehends no difference,
And would accept you even were you old
As you are ... youngish by her father's side?
Trim but your beard a little, thin your bush