LANCIOTTO. [_Laughing._] Then do not ask him! [_Exeunt_ SOLDIERS _with the body._] By Jupiter, I shall go mad, I think! [_Walks about._
CAPTAIN. Something disturbs him. Do you mark the spot Of purple on his brow? [_Apart to a SOLDIER._
LANCIOTTO. Boy, boy! [_Enter a_ PAGE.] My cloak and riding staff. Quick, quick! How you all lag! [_Exit_ PAGE.] I ride to Rimini. Skirmish to-morrow. Wait till my return-- I shall be back at sundown. You shall see What slaughter is then!
LANCIOTTO. I wish no guard; I ride alone. [_Re-enter PAGE, with a cloak and staff._] [_Taking them._] Well done! Thou art a pretty boy.--And now my horse!
LANCIOTTO. O! comrade, pardon me: I talk at random. What, Paolo too,-- boy whom I have trotted on my knee! Poh! I abuse myself by such a thought. Francesca may not love me, may love him-- Indeed she ought; but when an angel comes To play the wanton on this filthy earth, Then I'll believe her guilty. Look you, sir! Am I quite calm?
LANCIOTTO. You see No trace of passion on my face?--No sign Of ugly humours, doubts, or fears, or aught That may disfigure God's intelligence? I have a grievous charge against you, sir, That may involve your life; and if you doubt The candour of my judgment, choose your time: Shall I arraign you now?
CAPTAIN. Now, if you please. I'll trust my cause to you and innocence At any time. I am not conscious--
LANCIOTTO. Pshaw! I try myself, not you. And I am calm-- That is your verdict--and dispassionate?
LANCIOTTO. 'Tis well, 'tis well! Then I will ride to Rimini. Good-night! [_Exit._
_The others look after him amazedly, and exeunt._
_Rimini. The Garden of the Castle. Enter_ PAOLO _and_ FRANCESCA.
FRANCESCA. Ah, you men Can talk of love and duty in a breath; Love while you like, forget when you are tired, And salve your falsehood with some wholesome saw; But we, poor women, when we give our hearts, Give all, lose all, and never ask it back.
PAOLO. What couldst thou ask for that I have not given? With love I gave thee manly probity, Innocence, honour, self-respect, and peace. Lanciotto will return, and how shall I-- O! shame, to think of it!--how shall I look My brother in the face? take his frank hand? Return his tender glances? I should blaze With guilty blushes.
