The Duchess of Padua

Fiction & Literature, Drama, British & Irish, Nonfiction, Entertainment
Cover of the book The Duchess of Padua by Oscar Wilde, Oscar Wilde
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Author: Oscar Wilde ISBN: 9788892524873
Publisher: Oscar Wilde Publication: December 2, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Oscar Wilde
ISBN: 9788892524873
Publisher: Oscar Wilde
Publication: December 2, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English

Guido
[Taking a letter from his pocket and reading it.] ‘The hour noon; the city, Padua; the place, the market; and the day, Saint Philip’s Day.’
Ascanio
And what of the man, how shall we know him?
Guido [reading still]
‘I will wear a violet cloak with a silver falcon broidered on the shoulder.’ A brave attire, Ascanio.
Ascanio
I’d sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he will tell you of your father?
Guido
Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you remember; I was in the vineyard, just at the corner nearest the road, where the goats used to get in, a man rode up and asked me was my name Guido, and gave me this letter, signed ‘Your Father’s Friend,’ bidding me be here today if I would know the secret of my birth, and telling me how to recognise the writer! I had always thought old Pedro was my uncle, but he told me that he was not, but that I had been left a child in his charge by some one he had never since seen.

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Guido
[Taking a letter from his pocket and reading it.] ‘The hour noon; the city, Padua; the place, the market; and the day, Saint Philip’s Day.’
Ascanio
And what of the man, how shall we know him?
Guido [reading still]
‘I will wear a violet cloak with a silver falcon broidered on the shoulder.’ A brave attire, Ascanio.
Ascanio
I’d sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he will tell you of your father?
Guido
Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you remember; I was in the vineyard, just at the corner nearest the road, where the goats used to get in, a man rode up and asked me was my name Guido, and gave me this letter, signed ‘Your Father’s Friend,’ bidding me be here today if I would know the secret of my birth, and telling me how to recognise the writer! I had always thought old Pedro was my uncle, but he told me that he was not, but that I had been left a child in his charge by some one he had never since seen.

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