PEPE. Loose my ear! You've got the wrong sow, swineherd! You're unjust. Being his father, I was fool sufficient To think you fashioned him to suit yourself, By way of a variety. The thought Was good enough, the practice damnable.
MALATESTA. Hush! or I'll clap you in the pillory.
PEPE. [_Sings._] Ho, ho, ho, ho!--old Time has wings-- We're born, we mourn, we wed, we bed, We have a devilish aching head; So down we lie, And die, and fry; And there's a merry end of things!
Here come Ravenna's eagles for a roost In Rimini! The air is black with them. When go they hence? Wherever yon bird builds, The nest remains for ages. Have an eye, Or Malatesta's elephant may feel The eagle's talons.
PEPE. And you no white crow, to insure us luck.
PEPE. There always is; But men lack ears.
MALATESTA. Then eyes must do our work. Old Guido shall be looked to. If his force Appear too great, I'll camp him out of town.
MALATESTA. Well, well, I'm a good landlord, though. I do not like This flight of eagles more than Pepe. 'Sdeath! Guido was ever treacherous.
LANCIOTTO. My lord, You mar my holiday by such a thought. My holiday! Dear saints! it seems to me That all of you are mocking me.
PEPE. So--so-- Guido was ever treacherous?--so--so!
PEPE. What if this treachery Run in the blood? We'll tap a vein then--so!
MALATESTA. Sew up your mouth, and mind your fooling fool!
PEPE. Am I not fooling? Why, my lord, I thought The fooling exquisite.
LANCIOTTO. [_Aside._] This thoughtless knave Hits near us sometimes with his random shafts. Marriage for me! I cannot comprehend, I cannot take it to my heart; the thing Seems gross, absurd, ridiculous. Ah! well, My father bears the folly of it all; I'm but an actor in his comedy. My part is bad, but I must through with it. [_Retires._
PEPE. Look! here's the whole parade! Mark yonder knave-- The head one with the standard. Nature, nature! Hadst thou a hand in such a botch-work? Why, A forest of his legs would scarcely make A bunch of fagots. Mark old Guido, too! He looks like Judas with his silver. Ho! Here's news from sweet Ravenna!
PEPE. Ah! now the bride!--that's something--she is tooth-some. Look you, my lord--now, while the progress halts-- Cousin Paolo, has he got the dumps? Mercy! to see him, one might almost think 'T was his own marriage. What a doleful face! The boy is ill. He caught a fever, uncle, Travelling across the marshes. Physic! physic! If he be really dying, get a doctor, And cut the matter short. 'Twere merciful.