Has fallen from grace, has paltered with his trust;
I have no mother to receive thy charge,—­
O! take it on thyself; and when I err,
Through mortal blindness, Heaven, be thou my guide! 
Worse cannot fall me.  Though my husband lack
A parent’s tenderness, he yet may have
Faith, truth, and honour—­the immortal bonds
That knit together honest hearts as one. 
Let me away to Rimini.  Alas! 
It wrings my heart to have outlived the day
That I can leave my home with no regret! [Weeps.

Enter PAOLO.

PAOLO.  Pray, pardon me. [Going.

FRANCESCA.  You are quite welcome, Count
A foolish tear, a weakness, nothing more: 
But present weeping clears our future sight. 
They tell me you are love’s commissioner,
A kind of broker in the trade of hearts: 
Is it your usual business? or may I
Flatter myself, by claiming this essay
As your first effort?

PAOLO.  Lady, I believed
My post, at starting, one of weight and trust;
When I beheld you, I concluded it
A charge of honour and high dignity. 
I did not think to hear you underrate
Your own importance, by dishonouring me.

  FRANCESCA.  You are severe, my lord.

PAOLO.  No, not severe;
Say candid, rather.  I am somewhat hurt
By my reception.  If I feel the wound,
’Tis not because I suffer from the jest,
But that your lips should deal it.

FRANCESCA.  Compliments
Appear to be the staple of your speech. 
You ravish one with courtesy, you pour
Fine words upon one, till the listening head
Is bowed with sweetness.  Sir, your talk is drugged;
There’s secret poppy in your sugared phrase: 
I’ll taste before I take it.

  PAOLO.  Gentle lady—­

FRANCESCA.  I am not gentle, or I missed my aim. 
I am no hawk to fly at every lure. 
You courtly gentlemen draw one broad rule—­
All girls are fools.  It may be so, in truth,
Yet so I’ll not be treated.

PAOLO.  Have you been? 
If I implied such slander by my words,
They wrong my purpose.  If I compliment,
’Tis not from habit, but because I thought
Your face deserved my homage as its due. 
When I have clearer insight, and you spread
Your inner nature o’er your lineaments,
Even that face may darken in the shades
Of my opinion.  For mere loveliness
Needs inward light to keep it always bright. 
All things look badly to unfriendly eyes. 
I spoke my first impression; cooler thought
May work strange changes.

FRANCESCA.  Ah, Sir Count, at length
There’s matter in your words.

PAOLO.  Unpleasant stuff,
To judge by your dark brows.  I have essayed
Kindness and coldness, yet you are not pleased.