They would not know each other, although brother s,
As those who meet hy night, in darkenedakreets,
No,Agostino,call it not my song.
What we forget does not belong to us;
We recall only the things,
That are most firmly noted in our souls,
Deep hidden in a nook from all the world.
Such things alone are ours. The song is mine no longer.
Agostino
Not yours? That song? You wrote it for fair Teresina!
And now you recognize it not?
Filippo
So little do I recall it,
It is as if I'd never heard it.
Agostino
You speak as though,
Twe would please you to forget it.
Filippo
No, as if I must.
And not alone that song.
Agostino
Anxiously.)
Tell me, Filippo,
What has happened?For three long days your house,
Was closed to me and all your other friends,
At last to-day --against your will--you let me in,
Distrait,embarrassed,you extend your hand,
Your eyes aglitter with fond dreams of love,
I bring to you extraordinary news,
You have it from you like mere àile gossip,
And bid me seek my lute and sing to you,
Filippo
True I did bid you sing? Tell me what is happened?
You began to say that Venice threatened us,
That Mariscotti had proved himself a knave, ist not so?
Agostino
We fear this. I spoke not only of Venice.
The Duke of Romigna, also threatens war.