[_He holds out his hand for_ GUIDO _to kiss_. GUIDO _starts back in horror_, _but at a gesture from_ COUNT MORANZONE, _kneels and kisses it_.]
We will see That you are furnished with such equipage As doth befit your honour and our state.
And you are Mantuan? Look to your wives, my lords, When such a gallant comes to Padua. Thou dost well to laugh, Count Bardi; I have noted How merry is that husband by whose hearth Sits an uncomely wife.
May it please your Grace, The wives of Padua are above suspicion.
What, are they so ill-favoured! Let us go, This Cardinal detains our pious Duchess; His sermon and his beard want cutting both: Will you come with us, sir, and hear a text From holy Jerome?
Thou need’st make no excuse for missing mass. Come, gentlemen.
So the Duke sold my father; I kissed his hand.
Farewell, boy, Thou wilt not see me till the time is ripe.
Here is your friend; see that you banish him Both from your heart and Padua.
Nay, from thy heart as well, I will not leave thee till I see thee do it.
Revenge shall be thy friend; Thou need’st no other.
Come, Guido, I have been beforehand with you in everything, for I have drunk a flagon of wine, eaten a pasty, and kissed the maid who served it. Why, you look as melancholy as a schoolboy who cannot buy apples, or a politician who cannot sell his vote. What news, Guido, what news?
That would be news indeed, but it is not true.
Too true it is, you must get hence, Ascanio, And never look upon my face again.
No, no; indeed you do not know me, Guido; ’Tis true I am a common yeoman’s son, Nor versed in fashions of much courtesy; But, if you are nobly born, cannot I be Your serving man? I will tend you with more love Than any hired servant.
[_Sees_ MORANZONE _looking at him and drops_ ASCANIO’S _hand_.]
What, is it so with you? I thought the friendship of the antique world Was not yet dead, but that the Roman type Might even in this poor and common age Find counterparts of love; then by this love Which beats between us like a summer sea, Whatever lot has fallen to your hand May I not share it?
Have you then come to some inheritance Of lordly castle, or of stored-up gold?
Ay! I have come to my inheritance. O bloody legacy! and O murderous dole! Which, like the thrifty miser, must I hoard, And to my own self keep; and so, I pray you, Let us part here.