MORANZONE: When your mother,
Than whom no saint in heaven was more pure,
Heard my black news, she fell into a swoon,
And, being with untimely travail seized –
Indeed, she was but seven months a bride –
Bare thee into the world before thy time,
And then her soul went heavenward, to wait
Thy father, at the gates of Paradise.

GUIDO: A mother dead, a father sold and bartered!
I seem to stand on some beleaguered wall,
And messenger comes after messenger
With a new tale of terror; give me breath,
Mine ears are tired.

MORANZONE: When thy mother died,
Fearing our enemies, I gave it out
Thou wert dead also, and then privily
Conveyed thee to an ancient servitor,
Who by Perugia lived; the rest thou knowest.

GUIDO: Saw you my father afterwards?

MORANZONE: Ay! Once;
In mean attire, like a vineyard dresser,
I stole to Rimini.

GUIDO: (taking his hand): O generous heart!

MORANZONE: One can buy everything in Rimini,
And so I bought the gaolers! When your father
Heard that a man child had been born to him,
His noble face lit up beneath his helm
Like a great fire seen far out at sea,
And taking my two hands, he bade me, Guido,
To rear you worthy of him, so I have reared you
To revenge his death upon the friend who sold him.

GUIDO: Thou hast done well; I for my father thank you.
And now his name?

MORANZONE: How you remind me of him,
You have each gesture that your father had.

GUIDO: The traitor’s name?

MORANZONE: Thou wilt hear that anon;
The Duke and other nobles at the Court
Are coming hither.

GUIDO: What of that? his name?

MORANZONE: Do they not seem a valiant company
Of honourable, honest gentlemen?

GUIDO: His name, milord?

Enter the DUKE OF PADUA with COUNT BARDI, MAFFIO, PETRUCCI, and other gentlemen of his Court.

MORANZONE (quickly): The man to whom I kneel
Is he who sold your father! Mark me well.

GUIDO (clutches his dagger): The Duke!

MORANZONE: Leave off that fingering of thy knife.
Hast thou so soon forgotten?

Kneels to the DUKE.

My noble Lord.

DUKE: Welcome, Count Moranzone; ‘tis some time
Since we have seen you here in Padua.
We hunted near your castle yesterday –
Call you it castle? That bleak house of yours
Wherein you sit a-mumbling o’er your beads,
Telling your vices like a good old man.
I trust I’ll never be a good old man.
God would grow weary if I told my sins.

Catches sight of GUIDO and starts back.

Who is that?

MORANZONE: My sister’s son, your Grace,
Who being now of age to carry arms,
Would for a season tarry at your Court.

DUKE (still looking at GUIDO): What is his name?

MORANZONE: Guido Ferranti, sir.

DUKE: His city?

MORANZONE: He is Mantuan by birth.