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.

SCENE II.

The Same.  Before the Gates of the City.  The walls hung with banners, flowers, etc., and crowded with citizens.  At the side of the scene is a canopied dais, with chairs of state upon it.  Music, bells, shouts, and other sounds of rejoicing, are occasionally heard.  Enter GUIDO, the CARDINAL, NOBLEMEN, KNIGHTS, GUARDS, etc., with banners, arms, etc.

GUIDO.  My lord, I’ll have it so.  You talk in vain. 
Paolo is a marvel in his way: 
I’ve seen him often.  If Francesca take
A fancy to his beauty, all the better;
For she may think that he and Lanciotto
Are like as blossoms of one parent branch. 
In truth, they are, so far as features go—­
Heaven help the rest!  Get her to Rimini,
By any means, and I shall be content. 
The fraud cannot last long; but long enough
To win her favour to the family.

CARDINAL.  Tis a dull trick.  Thou hast not dealt with her
Wisely nor kindly, and I dread the end. 
If, when this marriage was enjoined on thee,
Thou hadst informed Francesca of the truth,
And said, Now daughter, choose between
Thy peace and all Ravenna’s; who that knows
The constant nature of her noble heart
Could doubt the issue?  There’d have been some tears,
Some frightful fancies of her husband’s looks;
And then she’d calmly walk up to her fate,
And bear it bravely.  Afterwards, perchance,
Lanciotto might prove better than her fears,—­
No one denies him many an excellence,—­
And all go happily.  But, as thou wouldst plot,
She’ll be prepared to see a paragon,
And find a satyr.  It is dangerous. 
Treachery with enemies is bad enough,
With friends ’tis fatal.