And poor Bertuccio not know! Ha, ha!
Oh, excellent! It was a sleight of hand
I shall remember to my dying day.
TORELLI.
Nay, an' thou tak'st it so—
BERTUCCIO.
How should I take it?
Besides the pleasantness of it, there's the honour.
Think! my poor daughter in the Duke's high favour!
Why, there are counts by scores had pawned their 'scutcheons
To come into such grace. I warrant now,
You thought I'd swear, and storm, and rend you all,
So shut me out. But, lo you! I am merry;
And so shall she be, if you'll let me in.
But let me in—I'll school the silly wench—
Teach her what honour she has come to; thank
The gracious duke, and play the merriest antics.
You'll swear you never saw me in such fooling—
But take me in.
TORELLI.
Why, now! the fool's grown wise!
I'll tell the Duke; perchance he'll let thee in.
DELL' AQUILA.
Lives hang on minutes here. Said you the Duchess
Had mixed the poison, or but meant to mix it?
BERTUCCIO.
There it is, man,—I know not which. E'en now
Death may be busy at her lips. Once in,
