LANCIOTTO. May God forgive you! We are even now:
Your blood has cleared my honour, and our name
Shines to the world as ever.
PAOLO. O!—O!—
FRANCESCA. Love,
Art suffering?
PAOLO. But for thee.
FRANCESCA. Here, rest thy head
Upon my bosom. Fie upon my blood!
It stains thy ringlets. Ha! he dies! Kind saints,
I was first struck, why cannot I die first?
Paolo, wake!—God's mercy! wilt thou go
Alone—without me? Prithee, strike again!
Nay, I am better—love—now—O! [Dies.
LANCIOTTO. [Sinks upon his knees.] Great heaven!
MALATESTA. [Without.] This way, I heard the cries.
Enter with GUIDO, ATTENDANTS, etc.
GUIDO. O! horrible!
MALATESTA. O! bloody spectacle! Where is thy brother?