PAOLO.  Noble sir,
We looked for welcome from your courtesy,
Not from your love; but this unhoped for sight
Of smiling faces, and the gentle tone
In which you greet us, leave us naught to win
Within your hearts.  I need not ask, my lord,
Where bides the precious object of my search;
For I was sent to find the fairest maid
Ravenna boasts, among her many fair. 
I might extend my travel many a league,
And yet return, to take her from your side. 
I blush to bear so rich a treasure home,
As pledge and hostage of a sluggish peace;
For beauty such as hers was meant by Heaven
To spur our race to gallant enterprise,
And draw contending deities around
The dubious battles of a second Troy.

GUIDO.  Sir Count, you please to lavish on my child
The high-strained courtesy of chivalry;
Yet she has homely virtues that, I hope,
May take a deeper hold in Rimini,
After the fleeting beauty of her face
Is spoiled by time, or faded to the eye
By its familiar usage.

PAOLO.  As a man
Who ever sees Heaven’s purpose in its works,
I must suppose so rare a tabernacle
Was framed for rarest virtues.  Pardon me
My public admiration.  If my praise
Clash with propriety, and bare my words
To cooler judgment, ’tis not that I wish
To win a flatterer’s grudged recompense,
And gain by falsehood what I’d win through love. 
When I have brushed my travel from my garb,
I’ll pay my court in more befitting style.

    Music.  Exit with his train.

GUIDO. [Advancing.] Now, by the saints, Lanciotto’s deputy
Stands in this business with a proper grace,
Stretching his lord’s instructions till they crack. 
A zealous envoy!  Not a word said he
Of Lanciotto—­not a single word: 
But stood there, staring in Francesca’s face
With his devouring eyes.—­By Jupiter,
I but half like it!

  FRANCESCA. [Advancing.] Father?

  GUIDO.  Well, my child.

  FRANCESCA.  How do you like—­

  GUIDO.  The coxcomb!  I’ve done well!

  FRANCESCA.  No, no; Count Lanciotto?

GUIDO.  Well enough. 
But hang this fellow—­hang your deputies! 
I’ll never woo by proxy.

FRANCESCA.  Deputies! 
And woo by proxy!

  GUIDO.  Come to me anon. 
I’ll strip this cuckoo of his gallantry!
                                                [Exit with GUARDS, etc.

  FRANCESCA.  Ritta, my father has strange ways of late.

  RITTA.  I wonder not.

  FRANCESCA.  You wonder not?

RITTA.  No, lady: 
He is so used to playing double games,
That even you must come in for your share. 
Plague on his boiling!  I will out with it. [Aside.]
Lady, the gentleman who passed the gates—­