FRANCESCA. I knew that it must be my destiny,
Some day, to give my hand without my heart;
But—
GUIDO. But, and I will but you back again!
When Guido da Polenta says to you,
Daughter, you must be married,—what were best?
FRANCESCA. 'Twere best Francesca, of the self-same name,
Made herself bridal garments. [Laughing.
GUIDO. Right!
FRANCESCA. My lord,
Is Lanciotto handsome—ugly—fair—
Black—sallow—crabbed—kind—or what is he?
GUIDO. You'll know ere long. I could not alter him,
To please your taste.
FRANCESCA. You always put me off;
You never have a whisper in his praise.
GUIDO. The world reports it.—Count my soldiers' scars,
And you may sum Lanciotto's glories up.
FRANCESCA. I shall be dutiful, to please you, father.
If aught befall me through my blind submission,
Though I may suffer, you must bear the sin.
Beware, my lord, for your own peace of mind!
My part has been obedience; and now
I play it over to complete my task;
And it shall be with smiles upon my lips,—
Heaven only knows with what a sinking heart!
[Exeunt.