New titles, and so grieve not over lost ones.
My glove upon 't! I'll prove a lighter dancer,
A lustier wooer, and a deeper drinker
Than e'er a landed lordling of you all.
Is it a wager?
TORELLI.
My hand to that! There 's Malatesta's wife,
The fair Ginevra. Let 's try lucks with her.
ASCOLTI.
Ware hawk! Grey Guido 's an old-fashioned husband;
Look how he glares upon the Lord Manfredi.
Each of his soft words to the fair Ginevra's
A dagger in the old fool's heart.
ORDELAFFI.
Sublime! Ripe sixty wedded to sixteen,
And thinks to shut the foxes from his grapes!
TORELLI.
The Duke, too, for his rival! Poor old man!
ASCOLTI.
Let the Duke look to it. Ginevra's smiles
May breed him worse foes than Count Malatesta.
[Whispering.] The Duchess!
TORELLI.
Faith! 't is ill rousing Bentivoglio blood.
ORDELAFFI.
And she 's as jealous as her own pet greyhound.
