PEPE. Your way is odd. Let go my gullet, and I'll talk you deaf. Swear my last oath: only to know the truth.
PEPE. Your honour lies-- Your precious honour, cousin Chivalry-- Lies bleeding with a terrible great gash, Without its knowledge. Swear!
LANCIOTTO. I swear. Your news is ill, perchance?
PEPE. Ill! would I bring it else? Am I inclined To run ten leagues with happy news for you? O, Lord, that's jolly!
LANCIOTTO. You infernal imp, Out with your story, ere I strangle you!
PEPE. Then take a fast hold on your two great oaths, To steady tottering manhood, and attend. Last eve, about this hour, I took a stroll Into the garden.--Are you listening, cousin?
PEPE. Wait a while, and we Will both be graver than a church-yard. Well, Down the long walk, towards me, came your wife, With Count Paolo walking at her side. It was a pretty sight, and so I stepped Into the bushes. Ritta came with them; And Lady Fanny had a grievous time To get her off. That made me curious. Anon, the pair sat down upon a bank, To read a poem;--the tenderest romance, All about Lancelot and Queen Guenevra. The Count read well--I'll say that much for him-- Only he stuck too closely to the text, Got too much wrapped up in the poesy, And played Sir Lancelot's actions, out and out, On Queen Francesca. Nor in royal parts Was she so backward. When he struck the line-- "She smiled; he kissed her full upon the mouth;" Your lady smiled, and, by the saints above, Paolo carried out the sentiment! Can I not move you?
LANCIOTTO. With such trash as this? And so you ran ten leagues to tell a lie?-- Run home again.
PEPE. I am not ready yet. After the kiss, up springs our amorous Count, Flings Queen Guenevra and Sir Lancelot Straight to the devil; growls and snaps his teeth, Laughs, weeps, howls, dances; talks about his love, His madness, suffering, and the Lord knows what, Bullying the lady like a thief. But she, All this hot time, looked cool and mischievous; Gave him his halter to the very end; And when he calmed a little, up she steps And takes him by the hand. You should have seen How tame the furious fellow was at once! How he came down, snivelled, and cowed to her, And fell to kissing her again! It was A perfect female triumph! Such a scene A man might pass through life and never see. More sentiment then followed--buckets full Of washy words, not worth my memory. But all the while she wound his Countship up, Closer and closer; till at last--tu!--wit!-- She scoops him up, and off she carries him, Fish for her table! Follow, if you can; My fancy fails me. All this time you smile!