The more loyal in his faith he'll grow.
Arnaldo. Lidio, I fain would make a captive of the boy,
And bind him fast in Cupid's silken chains.
No other prison for such tender years—
Nor one so strong as wedlock's iron bars.
'Tis said that, of its many virtues known,
It giveth brains to thoughtless boys.
Lidio. With such an arrant knave as this Marin
Still at his side, wedlock will scarce give brains,
And stretching soon may break such silken chains.
Arnaldo. How, what mean you?
Lidio. Whatever freedom now he hath
Is but the freedom of untutor'd youth.
But this Marin will lead him
Headlong by the downward path,
E'en after wedded. Where then
His honour, and that of Montes house
Whose unsullied name he bears?
The parents of the lady will dispute,
Some clamorous creditors will their quittance press,
And then the young and trusting wife,
All tears and jealous rage, and pale,
Will fear he loves another;
She lacking, 'mid her jewels rare,
That rarer one named prudence.
He often sups or dines abroad;
And when he's served at home
Is out of humour with the food,
And storms at those who cook'd it.
Then, mayhap, when sunrise tips the hills
He'll seek his couch to rest and sleep,
