[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."
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.
I'd sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he will tell you of your father?
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.