Monseigneur. Beppo, I have determined to⸺(He pauses; then, puzzled, to the Bishop.) What was it?
Bishop. Assure his future.
Monseigneur. Yea, assure thy future. Thou shalt be taught to read (at which Beppo shifts his feet uneasily)—and, if God will, some day to write. Thou shalt learn history, statecraft, poetry; to dance, to ride.
Beppo (defiantly). I can do both already, to perfection.
Monseigneur (fretfully). To perfection!—when I myself have seen thee, lumping about like a servitor. Best of all, thou shall be taught courtly behaviour; to consider others; to be just and merciful, to speak the truth.
Beppo (shiftily). I never lie.
Monseigneur. I hope not, but I do not altogether believe it. Even I have lied—I!—who have been taught so much.
Beppo (mutters). There are certain things I do not call lies.
Monseigneur. Thou seest, Bishop, how ignorant he is? Take him, Messire, and teach him, and one day—doubtless—he will be all I might have been⸺
Bishop. Monseigneur!