MALATESTA.  Stand back!

PEPE. [Looking round.] The bridegroom? 
He flies betimes, before the bride shows fight.
[Walks back, looking for LANCIOTTO.

Music, shouts, ringing of bells, &c.  Enter MEN-AT-ARMS, with banners, &c., GUIDO, CARDINAL, KNIGHTS, ATTENDANTS, &_c.; then_ PAOLO, conducting FRANCESCA, followed by RITTA, LADIES, PAGES, _&c., and other_ MEN-AT-ARMS. They file around the stage, and halt.

MALATESTA.  Welcome, to Rimini, Count Guido!  Welcome,
And fair impressions of our poor abode,
To you, my daughter!  You are well returned,
My son, Paolo!  Let me bless you, son.

[PAOLO approaches.]
How many spears are in old Guido’s train?

[Apart to PAOLO.

PAOLO.  Some ten-score.

MALATESTA.  Footmen?

PAOLO.  Double that.

MALATESTA.  ’Tis well. 
Again I bid you welcome!  Make no show
Of useless ceremony with us.  Friends
Have closer titles than the empty name. 
We have provided entertainment, Count,
For all your followers, in the midst of us. 
We trust the veterans of Rimini
May prove your soldiers that our courtesy
Does not lag far behind their warlike zeal. 
Let us drop Guelf and Ghibelin henceforth,
Coupling the names of Rimini and Ravenna
As bridegroom’s to his bride’s.

GUIDO.  Count Malatesta,
I am no rhetorician, or my words
Might keep more even with the love I feel: 
Simply, I thank you.  With an honest hand
I take the hand which you extend to me,
And hope our grasp may never lose its warmth.—­
You marked the bastion by the water-side? 
Weak as a bulrush. [Apart to a KNIGHT.

  KNIGHT.  Tottering weak, my lord.

GUIDO.  Remember it; and when you’re private, sir,
Draw me a plan.

  KNIGHT.  I will, my lord.

GUIDO.  How’s this? 
I do not see my future son-in-law.

  MALATESTA.  Lanciotto!

  LANCIOTTO. [Advancing.] I am here, my lord.

FRANCESCA. [Starting.] O! heaven! 
Is that my husband, Count Paolo?  You,
You then, among the rest, have played me false! 
He is—­[Apart to PAOLO.

  PAOLO My brother.

  LANCIOTTO [Aside.] Ha! she turns from me.

PEPE. [Approaching LANCIOTTO, sings.]

Around, around the lady turned,
She turned not to her lord;
She turned around to a gallant, gallant knight,
Who ate at his father’s board.

A pretty ballad! all on one string though.