LANCIOTTO.  Curses upon my destiny!  What, I—­
Ho!  I have found my use at last—­What, I,
I, the great twisted monster of the wars,
The brawny cripple, the herculean dwarf,
The spur of panic, and the butt of scorn—­
be a bridegroom!  Heaven, was I not cursed
More than enough, when thou didst fashion me
To be a type of ugliness,—­a thing
By whose comparison all Rimini
Holds itself beautiful?  Lo! here I stand,
A gnarled, blighted trunk!  There’s not a knave
So spindle-shanked, so wry-faced, so infirm,
Who looks at me, and smiles not on himself. 
And I have friends to pity me—­great Heaven! 
One has a favourite leg that he bewails,—­
Another sees my hip with doleful plaints,—­
A third is sorry o’er my huge swart arms,—­
A fourth aspires to mount my very hump,
And thence harangue his weeping brotherhood! 
Pah! it is nauseous!  Must I further bear
The sidelong shuddering glances of a wife? 
The degradation of a showy love,
That over-acts, and proves the mummer’s craft
Untouched by nature?  And a fair wife, too!—­
Francesca, whom the minstrels sing about! 
Though, by my side, what woman were not fair? 
Circe looked well among her swine, no doubt;
Next me, she’d pass for Venus.  Ho! ho! ho! [Laughing.]
Would there were something merry in my laugh! 
Now, in the battle, if a Ghibelin
Cry, “Wry-hip! hunchback!” I can trample him
Under my stallion’s hoofs; or haggle him
Into a monstrous likeness of myself: 
But to be pitied,—­to endure a sting
Thrust in by kindness, with a sort of smile!—­
’Sdeath! it is miserable!

    [Enter PEPE.

  PEPE.  My lord—­

  LANCIOTTO.  My fool!

PEPE.  We’ll change our titles when your bride’s bells ring—­ Ha, cousin?

  LANCIOTTO.  Even this poor fool has eyes,
To see the wretched plight in which I stand.
          
                                                     [Aside.]
How, gossip, how?

PEPE.  I, being the court-fool,
Am lord of fools by my prerogative.

  LANCIOTTO.  Who told you of my marriage?

PEPE.  Rimini! 
A frightful liar; but true for once, I fear. 
The messenger from Guido has returned,
And the whole town is wailing over him. 
Some pity you, and some the bride; but I,
Being more catholic, I pity both.

  LANCIOTTO.  Still, pity, pity! [Aside.  Bells toll.] Ha! whose knell is that?

PEPE.  Lord Malatesta sent me to the tower,
To have the bells rung for your marriage-news. 
How, he said not; so I, as I thought fit,
Told the deaf sexton to ring out a knell.
[Bells toll.]
How do you like it?

  LANCIOTTO.  Varlet, have you bones,

To risk their breaking?  I have half a mind
To thresh you from your motley coat!
                                                             [Seizes him.