BERTUCCIO.
I!—why I'm free o' the palace; every place
Except the council chamber, and in that
I sit by proxy!
PAGE.
'T is the Duke's strict order
You enter not this room.
[Bertuccio is pressing forward.
Back! or the grooms
Shall score thy hunch to motley. [He closes the door.
ASCOLTI.
How now, sirrah!
Call you this marshalling?
BERTUCCIO.
I am right served!
I forgot that fools in silks should take precedence
Of fools in motley! Lead the way, my lords!
ORDELAFFI.
Look! here comes Malatesta.
BERTUCCIO.
Ha!—but stay,
To hear me gird at him! You call me bitter;
Now you shall see how merciful I've been.
ASCOLTI.
Waste not your ears on him; the Duke awaits us
Beside his beauty,—metal more attractive
Than this cursed word-catcher.
ORDELAFFI.
Ay, ay! let's in.
