MALATESTA.
I know not. Ask Dell' Aquila; 't was he
Brought me the lady, craving shelter for her
From some great danger.
BERTUCCIO.
But you saw her face?
MALATESTA.
And if I did, think'st thou I'd trust her name
To thy ass-ears? [Exit Malatesta, L.
BERTUCCIO.
Fooled—mocked of my revenge!
The sweetest morsel on 't whipped from my teeth!
Oh, I could brain myself with my own bawble!
[Enter Dell' Aquila, L.
[Aside.] Dell' Aquila. He knows.
DELL' AQUILA.
Well met, Bertuccio;
I've sought thee since this morning,—nay, since midnight.
BERTUCCIO.
Ha!
DELL' AQUILA.
For a matter much concerns thy peace.
Thou hast a daughter. [Bertuccio starts.] How I know thou hast
Matters not to my story.
BERTUCCIO (hastily).
Hush! hush! hush!
If you know this, as you 're a Christian man,
And poet,—poets should have softer hearts
Than courts and camps breed now-a-days,—oh, keep
The knowledge to yourself!
