Trumpet sounds within.
PEPE. Hist! my lord.
LANCIOTTO. That calls me to myself.
PEPE. At that alarm,
All Rimini leaped up upon its feet.
Cousin, your bridal-train. You groan! 'Ods wounds!
Here is the bridegroom sorely malcontent—
The sole sad face in Rimini. Since morn,
A quiet man could hardly walk the streets,
For flowers and streamers. All the town is gay.
Perhaps 'tis merry o'er your misery.
LANCIOTTO. Perhaps; but that it knows not.
PEPE. Yes, it does:
It knows that when a man's about to wed,
He's ripe to laugh at. Cousin, tell me, now,
Why is Paolo on the way so long?
Ravenna's but eight leagues from Rimini—
LANCIOTTO. That's just the measure of your tongue, good fool.
You trouble me. I've had enough of you—
Begone!
PEPE. I'm going; but you see I limp.
Have pity on a cripple, gentle Count. [Limps.
LANCIOTTO. Pepe!
PEPE. A miracle, a miracle!
See, see, my lord, at Pepe's saintly name
The lame jog on.