RITTA.  Indeed
I will be quiet.

FRANCESCA.  But he will not read.

RITTA.  Let me go ask him. [Runs toward PAOLO.

FRANCESCA.  Stop!  Come hither, Ritta.
[She returns.]
I saw your new embroidery in the hall,—­
The needle in the midst of Argus’ eyes;
It should be finished.

RITTA.  I will bring it here.—­
O no! my finger’s sore; I cannot work.

FRANCESCA.  Go to your room.

RITTA.  Let me remain, I pray. 
’Tis better, lady; you may wish for me: 
I know you will be sorry if I go.

FRANCESCA.  I shall not, girl.  Do as I order you. 
Will you be headstrong?

  RITTA.  Do you wish it, then?

  FRANCESCA.  Yes, Ritta.

RITTA.  Yet you made pretexts enough,
Before you ordered.

FRANCESCA.  You are insolent. 
Will you remain against my will?

RITTA.  Yes, lady;
Rather than not remain.

  FRANCESCA.  Ha! impudent!

RITTA.  You wrong me, gentle mistress.  Love like mine
Does not ask questions of propriety,
Nor stand on manners.  I would do you good,
Even while you smote me; I would push you back,
With my last effort, from the crumbling edge
Of some high rock o’er which you toppled me.

  FRANCESCA.  What do you mean?

  RITTA.  I know.

  FRANCESCA.  Know what?

RITTA.  Too much. 
Pray, do not ask me.

  FRANCESCA.  Speak!

RITTA.  I know—­dear lady,
Be not offended—­

  FRANCESCA.  Tell me, simpleton!

RITTA.  You know I worship you; you know I’d walk
Straight into ruin for a whim of yours;
You know—­

  FRANCESCA.  I know you act the fool.  Talk sense!

  RITTA.  I know Paolo loves you.

FRANCESCA.  Should he not? 
He is my brother.

  RITTA.  More than brother should.

  FRANCESCA.  Ha! are you certain?

  RITTA.  Yes, of more than that.

  FRANCESCA.  Of more?

RITTA.  Yes, lady; for you love him, too. 
I’ve said it!  Fling me to the carrion crows,
Kill me by inches, boil me in the pot
Count Guido promised me,—­but, O, beware! 
Back, while you may.  Make me the sufferer,
But save yourself!

FRANCESCA.  Now, are you not ashamed,
To look me in the face with that bold brow? 
I am amazed!

RITTA.  I am a woman, lady;
I too have been in love; I know its ways,
Its arts, and its deceits.  Your frowning face,
And seeming indignation, do not cheat. 
Your heart is in my hand.