FRANCESCA. Past noon, my lord.
GUIDO. We must be stirring, then.
FRANCESCA. I do not like this marriage.
GUIDO. But I do.
FRANCESCA. But I do not. Poh! to be given away,
Like a fine horse or falcon, to a man
Whose face I never saw!
RITTA. That's it, my lady.
GUIDO. Ritta, run down, and see if my great pot
Boils to your liking.
RITTA. [Aside.] O! that pot again!
My lord, my heart betrays me; but you know
How true 'tis to my lady. [Exit.
FRANCESCA. What ails Ritta?
GUIDO. The ailing of your sex, a running tongue.
Francesca, 'tis too late to beat retreat:
Old Malatesta has me—you, too, child—
Safe in his clutch. If you are not content,
I must unclose Ravenna, and allow
His son to take you. Poh, poh! have a soul
Equal with your estate. A prince's child
Cannot choose husbands. Her desires must aim,
Not at herself, but at the public good.
Both as your prince and father, I command;
As subject and good daughter, you'll obey.