O father, O cruel father! you surely are not born of human flesh; the sea-orks gave you blood, the wild-cats suckled you[1]. But why do I talk of beasts of the land and sea? for every animal loves its young; you alone loathe and hate your own offspring, you alone hold your daughter in abhorrence. Oh, better had it been if my mother had strangled me at my birth, if my cradle had been my deathbed, my nurse's breast a bottle of poison, my swaddling-clothes a halter, and the whistle they tied round my neck a millstone; since I have lived to see this evil day, to see myself caressed by the hand of a harpy, embraced by two bear's paws, and kissed by two boar's tusks."
Porziella was going on to say more, when the king, in a furious rage, exclaimed, "Stay your anger, for sugar is dear! fair and softly, for appearances deceive[2]! stop, stop, for the lees are running out; hold your tongue, you ill-mannered chatterbox! what I do is well done. Is it for a girl to teach her father forsooth? have done, I say, and don't drive the mustard up into my nose[3]; for if I lay these hands upon you, I'll not leave a whole bone in your skin, and will make you bite the dust. Prithee how long has a child, with the milk still upon her lips, dared to oppose my will?
