LANCIOTTO. Our honour, boy. [Stabs PAOLO; he falls.
FRANCESCA. Paolo!
PAOLO. Hark! she calls.
I pray thee, brother, help me to her side.
[LANCIOTTO helps him to FRANCESCA.
LANCIOTTO. Why, there!
PAOLO. God bless thee!
LANCIOTTO. Have I not done well?
What were the honour of the Malatesti,
With such a living slander fixed to it?
Cripple! that's something—cuckold! that is damned!
You blame me?
PAOLO. No.
LANCIOTTO. You, lady?
FRANCESCA. No, my lord.