PEPE. I might be both.
LANCIOTTO. You made no record, then?
Must this fine story die for want of ink?
Left you no trace in writing?
PEPE. None.
LANCIOTTO. Alas!
Then you have told it? Tis but stale, my boy;
I'm second hearer.
PEPE. You are first, in faith.
LANCIOTTO. In truth?
PEPE. In sadness. You have got it fresh?
I had no time; I itched to reach your ear.
Now go to Rimini, and see yourself.
You'll find them in the garden. Lovers are
Like walking ghosts, they always haunt the spot
Of their misdeeds.
LANCIOTTO. But have I heard you out?
You told me all?
PEPE. All; I have nothing left.
LANCIOTTO. Why, you brain-stricken idiot, to trust
Your story and your body in my grasp! [Seizes him.