Chapter II: Act I

SCENE I. _Rimini. The Garden of the Palace. PAOLO and a number of noblemen are discovered, seated under an arbour, surrounded by RENE, and other troubadours, attendants, &c._

PAOLO. I prithee, Rene, charm our ears again With the same song you sang me yesterday. Here are fresh listeners.

RENE. Really, my good lord,
My voice is out of joint. A grievous cold--

[_Coughs._

PAOLO. A very grievous, but convenient cold,
Which always racks you when you would not sing.

RENE. O, no, my lord! Besides, I hoped to hear My ditty warbled into fairer ears, By your own lips; to better purpose, too.

[_The NOBLEMEN all laugh._

FIRST NOBLEMAN. Rene has hit it. Music runs to waste
In ears like ours.

SECOND NOBLEMAN. Nay, nay; chaunt on, sweet Count.

PAOLO. [_Coughing._] Alack! you hear, I've caught poor Rene's cough.

FIRST NOBLEMAN. That would not be, if we wore petticoats.

[_The others laugh._

PAOLO. O, fie!

FIRST NOBLEMAN. So runs the scandal to our ears.

SECOND NOBLEMAN. Confirmed by all our other senses, Count.

FIRST NOBLEMAN. Witnessed by many a doleful sigh, poured out
By many a breaking heart in Rimini.

SECOND NOBLEMAN. Poor girls!

FIRST NOBLEMAN.[_Mimicking a lady._] Sweet Count! sweet Count Paolo! O! Plant early violets upon my grave! Thus go a thousand voices to one tune.

[_The others laugh._

PAOLO. 'Ods mercy! gentlemen, you do me wrong.

FIRST NOBLEMAN. And by how many hundred, more or less?

PAOLO. Ah! rogues, you'd shift your sins upon my shoulders.

SECOND NOBLEMAN. You'd bear them stoutly.

FIRST NOBLEMAN. It were vain to give Drops to god Neptune. You're the sea of love That swallows all things.

SECOND NOBLEMAN. We the little fish
That meanly scull about within your depths.

PAOLO. Goon, goon! Talk yourselves fairly out.
[PEPE _laughs without._
But, hark! here comes the fool! Fit company
For this most noble company of wits!

[_Enter_ PEPE, _laughing violently._]

Why do you laugh?

PEPE. I'm laughing at the world. It has laughed long enough at me; and so I'll turn the tables. Ho! ho! ho! I've heard A better joke of Uncle Malatesta's Than any I e'er uttered. [_Laughing._

ALL. Tell it, fool.

PEPE. Why, do you know--upon my life, the best And most original idea on earth: A joke to put in practice, too. By Jove! I'll bet my wit 'gainst the stupidity Of the best gentleman among you all, You cannot guess it.

ALL. Tell us, tell us, fool.

PEPE. Guess it, guess it, fools.

PAOLO Come, disclose, disclose!

PEPE. He has a match afoot.--

ALL. A match!

PEPE. A marriage.

ALL. Who?--who?

PEPE. A marriage in his family.

ALL. But, who?

PEPE. Ah! there's the point.

ALL. Paolo?

PEPE. No.

FIRST NOBLEMAN. The others are well wived. Shall we turn Turks?

PEPE. Why, there's the summit of his joke, good sirs. By all the sacred symbols of my art-- By cap and bauble, by my tinkling bell-- He means to marry Lanciotto! [_Laughs violently._

ALL. [Laughing.] Ho!--

PAOLO. Peace! peace! What tongue dare echo yon fool's laugh? Nay, never raise your hands in wonderment: I'll strike the dearest friend among ye all Beneath my feet, as if he were a slave, Who dares insult my brother with a laugh!

PEPE. By Jove! ye're sad enough. Here's mirth's quick cure!
Pretty Paolo has a heavy fist,
I warn you, sirs. Ho! ho! I trapped them all;
[_Laughing._]
Now I'll go mar old Malatesta's message. [_Aside._
[_Exit._

PAOLO. Shame on ye, sirs! I have mistaken you. I thought I harboured better friends. Poor fops, Who've slept in down and satin all your years, Within the circle Lanciotto charmed Round Rimini with his most potent sword!-- Fellows whose brows would melt beneath a casque, Whose hands would fray to grasp a brand's rough hilt, Who ne'er launched more than braggart threats at foes!-- Girlish companions of luxurious girls!-- Danglers round troubadours and wine-cups!--Men Whose best parts are their clothes! bundles of silk, Scented like summer! rag-men, nothing more!-- Creatures as generous as monkeys--brave As hunted hares--courteous as grinning apes-- Grateful as serpents--useful as lap-dogs-- [_During this, the_ NOBLEMEN, _&c., steal off._] Ha! I am alone at last! So let me be, Till Lanciotto fill the vacant room Of these mean knaves, whose friendship is but breath. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Same. A Hall in the Castle. Enter_ MALATESTA _and_ LANCIOTTO.

MALATESTA. Guido, ay, Guido of Ravenna, son-- Down on his knees, as full of abject prayers For peace and mercy as a penitent.

LANCIOTTO. His old trick, father. While his wearied arm Is raised in seeming prayer, it only rests. Anon, he'll deal you such a staggering blow, With its recovered strength, as shall convert You, and not him, into a penitent.

MALATESTA. No, no; your last bout levelled him. He reeled Into Ravenna, from the battle-field, Like a stripped drunkard, and there headlong fell-- A mass of squalid misery, a thing To draw the jeering urchins. I have this From faithful spies. There's not a hope remains To break the shock of his great overthrow. I pity Guido.

LANCIOTTO. 'Sdeath! go comfort him! I pity those who fought, and bled, and died, Before the armies of this Ghibelin. I pity those who halted home with wounds Dealt by his hand. I pity widowed eyes That he set running; maiden hearts that turn, Sick with despair, from ranks thinned down by him; Mothers that shriek, as the last stragglers fling Their feverish bodies by the fountain-side, Dumb with mere thirst, and faintly point to him, Answering the dame's quick questions. I have seen Unburied bones, and skulls--that seemed to ask, From their blank eye-holes, vengeance at my hand-- Shine in the moonlight on old battle-fields; And even these--the happy dead, my lord-- I pity more than Guido of Ravenna!

MALATESTA. What would you have?

LANCIOTTO. I'd see Ravenna burn, Flame into heaven, and scorch the flying clouds; I'd choke her streets with ruined palaces; I'd hear her women scream with fear and grief, As I have heard the maids of Rimini. All this I'd sprinkle with old Guido's blood, And bless the baptism.

MALATESTA. You are cruel.

LANCIOTTO. Not I; But these things ache within my fretting brain. The sight I first beheld was from the arms Of my wild nurse, her husband hacked to death By the fierce edges of these Ghibelins. One cut across the neck--I see it now, Ay, and have mimicked it a thousand times, Just as I saw it, on our enemies.-- Why, that cut seemed as if it meant to bleed On till the judgment. My distracted nurse Stooped down, and paddled in the running gore With her poor fingers; then a prophetess, Pale with the inspiration of the god, She towered aloft, and with her dripping hand Three times she signed me with the holy cross. Tis all as plain as noon-day. Thus she spake,-- "May this spot stand till Guido's dearest blood Be mingled with thy own!" The soldiers say, In the close battle, when my wrath is up, The dead man's blood flames on my vengeful brow Like a red planet; and when war is o'er, It shrinks into my brain, defiling all My better nature with its slaughterous lusts. Howe'er it be, it shaped my earliest thought, And it will shape my last.

MALATESTA. You moody churl! You dismal knot of superstitious dreams! Do you not blush to empty such a head Before a sober man? Why, son, the world Has not given o'er its laughing humour yet, That you should try it with such vagaries.--Poh! I'll get a wife to teach you common sense.

LANCIOTTO. A wife for me! [_Laughing._

MALATESTA. Ay, sir, a wife for you.
You shall be married, to insure your wits.

LANCIOTTO. 'Tis not your wont to mock me.

MALATESTA. How now, son! I am not given to jesting. I have chosen The fairest wife in Italy for you. You won her bravely, as a soldier should: And when you'd woo her, stretch your gauntlet out, And crush her fingers in its steely grip. If you will plead, I ween, she dare not say-- No, by your leave. Should she refuse, howe'er, With that same iron hand you shall go knock Upon Ravenna's gates, till all the town Ring with your courtship. I have made her hand The price and pledge of Guido's future peace.

LANCIOTTO. All this is done!

MALATESTA. Done, out of hand; and now I wait a formal answer, nothing more. Guido dare not decline. No, by the saints, He'd send Ravenna's virgins here in droves, To buy a ten days' truce.

LANCIOTTO. Sir, let me say, You stretch paternal privilege too far, To pledge my hand without my own consent. Am I a portion of your household stuff, That you should trade me off to Guido thus? Who is the lady I am bartered for?

MALATESTA. Francesca, Guido's daughter.--Never frown;
It shall be so!

LANCIOTTO. By heaven, it shall not be!
My blood shall never mingle with his race.

MALATESTA. According to your nurse's prophecy,
Fate orders it.

LANCIOTTO. Ha!

MALATESTA. Now, then, I have struck The chord that answers to your gloomy thoughts. Bah! on your sibyl and her prophecy! Put Guido's blood aside, and yet, I say, Marry you shall.

LANCIOTTO. 'Tis most distasteful, sir.

MALATESTA. Lanciotto, look ye! You brave gentlemen, So fond of knocking out poor people's brains, In time must come to have your own knocked out: What, then, if you bequeath us no new hands, To carry on your business, and our house Die out for lack of princes?

LANCIOTTO. Wed my brothers: They'll rear you sons, I'll slay you enemies. Paolo and Francesca! Note their names; They chime together like sweet marriage-bells. A proper match. 'Tis said she's beautiful; And he is the delight of Rimini,-- The pride and conscious centre of all eyes, The theme of poets, the ideal of art, The earthly treasury of Heaven's best gifts! I am a soldier; from my very birth, Heaven cut me out for terror, not for love. I had such fancies once, but now--

MALATESTA. Pshaw! son, My faith is bound to Guido; and if you Do not throw off your duty, and defy, Through sickly scruples, my express commands, You'll yield at once. No more: I'll have it so! [_Exit._

LANCIOTTO. Curses upon my destiny! What, I-- Ho! I have found my use at last--What, I, I, the great twisted monster of the wars, The brawny cripple, the herculean dwarf, The spur of panic, and the butt of scorn-- be a bridegroom! Heaven, was I not cursed More than enough, when thou didst fashion me To be a type of ugliness,--a thing By whose comparison all Rimini Holds itself beautiful? Lo! here I stand, A gnarléd, blighted trunk! There's not a knave So spindle-shanked, so wry-faced, so infirm, Who looks at me, and smiles not on himself. And I have friends to pity me--great Heaven! One has a favourite leg that he bewails,-- Another sees my hip with doleful plaints,-- A third is sorry o'er my huge swart arms,-- A fourth aspires to mount my very hump, And thence harangue his weeping brotherhood! Pah! it is nauseous! Must I further bear The sidelong shuddering glances of a wife? The degradation of a showy love, That over-acts, and proves the mummer's craft Untouched by nature? And a fair wife, too!-- Francesca, whom the minstrels sing about! Though, by my side, what woman were not fair? Circe looked well among her swine, no doubt; Next me, she'd pass for Venus. Ho! ho! ho! [_Laughing._] Would there were something merry in my laugh! Now, in the battle, if a Ghibelin Cry, "Wry-hip! hunchback!" I can trample him Under my stallion's hoofs; or haggle him Into a monstrous likeness of myself: But to be pitied,--to endure a sting Thrust in by kindness, with a sort of smile!-- 'Sdeath! it is miserable!

[_Enter_ PEPE.

PEPE. My lord--

LANCIOTTO. My fool!

PEPE. We'll change our titles when your bride's bells ring--
Ha, cousin?

LANCIOTTO. Even this poor fool has eyes,
To see the wretched plight in which I stand.
[_Aside._]
How, gossip, how?

PEPE. I, being the court-fool,
Am lord of fools by my prerogative.

LANCIOTTO. Who told you of my marriage?

PEPE. Rimini! A frightful liar; but true for once, I fear. The messenger from Guido has returned, And the whole town is wailing over him. Some pity you, and some the bride; but I, Being more catholic, I pity both.

LANCIOTTO. Still, pity, pity! [_Aside. Bells toll._] Ha! whose knell is that?

PEPE. Lord Malatesta sent me to the tower, To have the bells rung for your marriage-news. How, he said not; so I, as I thought fit, Told the deaf sexton to ring out a knell. [_Bells toll._] How do you like it?

LANCIOTTO. Varlet, have you bones,
To risk their breaking? I have half a mind
To thresh you from your motley coat!
[_Seizes him._

PEPE. Pardee! Respect my coxcomb, cousin. Hark! ha, ha! [_Laughing._] [_Bells ring a joyful peal._] Some one has changed my music. Heaven defend! How the bells jangle. Yonder graybeard, now, Rings a peal vilely. He's more used to knells, And sounds them grandly. Only give him time, And, I'll be sworn, he'll ring your knell out yet.

LANCIOTTO. Pepe, you are but half a fool.

PEPE. My lord,
I can return the compliment in full.

LANCIOTTO. So, you are ready.

PEPE. Truth is always so.

LANCIOTTO. I shook you rudely; here's a florin.
[_Offers money._

PEPE. No:
My wit is merchandise, but not my honour.

LANCIOTTO. Your honour, sirrah!

PEPE. Why not? You great lords Have something you call lordly honour; pray, May not a fool have foolish honour, too? Cousin, you laid your hand upon my coat-- 'Twas the first sacrilege it ever knew--And you shall pay it. Mark! I promise you.

LANCIOTTO. [_Laughing._] Ha, ha! you bluster well. Upon my life, You have the tilt-yard jargon to a breath. Pepe, if I should smite you on the cheek-- Thus, gossip, thus--[_Strikes him._] what would you then demand?

PEPE. Your life!

LANCIOTTO. [_Laughing._] Ha, ha! there is the camp-style, too, A very cut-throat air! How this shrewd fool Makes the punctilio of honour show! Change helmets into coxcombs, swords to baubles, And what a figure is poor chivalry! Thanks for your lesson, Pepe. [_Exit._

PEPE. Ere I'm done, You'll curse as heartily, you limping beast! Ha! so we go--Lord Lanciotto, look! [_Walks about, mimicking him._] Here is a leg and camel-back, forsooth, To match your honour and nobility! You miscreated scarecrow, dare you shake, Or strike in jest, a natural man like me?-- You curséd lump, you chaos of a man, To buffet one whom Heaven pronounces good! [_Bells ring._] There go the bells rejoicing over you: I'll change them back to the old knell again. You marry, faugh! Beget a race of elves; Wed a she-crocodile, and keep within The limits of your nature! Here we go, Tripping along to meet our promised bride, Like a rheumatic elephant!--ha, ha! [_Laughing._

[_Exit, mimicking_ LANCIOTTO.

SCENE III.

_The Same. A Room in the Same. Enter_ LANCIOTTO, _hastily._

LANCIOTTO. Why do these prodigies environ me? In ancient Rome, the words a fool might drop, From the confusion of his vagrant thoughts, Were held as omens, prophecies; and men Who made earth tremble with majestic deeds, Trembled themselves at fortune's lightest threat. I like it not. My father named this match While I boiled over with vindictive wrath Towards Guido and Ravenna. Straight my heart Sank down like lead; a weakness seized on me, A dismal gloom that I could not resist; I lacked the power to take my stand, and say-- Bluntly, I will not! Am I in the toils? Has fate so weakened me, to work its end? There seems a fascination in it, too,-- A morbid craving to pursue a thing Whose issue may be fatal. Would that I Were in the wars again! These mental weeds Grow on the surface of inactive peace. I'm haunted by myself. Thought preys on thought. My mind seems crowded in the hideous mould That shaped my body. What a fool am I To bear the burden of my wretched life, To sweat and toil under the world's broad eye, Climb into fame, and find myself--O, what?-- A most conspicuous monster! Crown my head, Pile Cæsar's purple on me--and what then? My hump shall shorten the imperial robe, My leg peep out beneath the scanty hem, My broken hip shall twist the gown awry; And pomp, instead of dignifying me, Shall be by me made quite ridiculous. The faintest coward would not bear all this: Prodigious courage must be mine, to live; To die asks nothing but weak will, and I Feel like a craven. Let me skulk away Ere life o'ertask me. [_Offers to stab himself._

_Enter_ PAOLO.

PAOLO. [_Seizing his hand._] Brother! what is this? Lanciotto, are you mad? Kind Heaven! look here-- Straight in my eyes. Now answer, do you know How near you were to murder? Dare you bend Your wicked hand against a heart I love? Were it for you to mourn your wilful death, With such a bitterness as would be ours, The wish would ne'er have crossed you. While we're bound Life into life, a chain of loving hearts, Were it not base in you, the middle link, To snap, and scatter all? Shame, brother, shame! I thought you better metal.

LANCIOTTO. Spare your words. I know the seasons of our human grief, And can predict them without almanac. A few sobs o'er the body, and a few Over the coffin; then a sigh or two, Whose windy passage dries the hanging tear; Perchance, some wandering memories, some regrets; Then a vast influx of consoling thoughts-- Based on the trials of the sadder days Which the dead missed; and then a smiling face Turned on to-morrow. Such is mortal grief. It writes its histories within a span, And never lives to read them.

PAOLO. Lanciotto, I heard the bells of Rimini, just now, Exulting o'er your coming marriage-day, While you conspired to teach them gloomier sounds. Why are you sad?

LANCIOTTO. Paolo, I am wretched; Sad's a faint word. But of my marriage-bells-- Heard you the knell that Pepe rang?

PAOLO. 'Twas strange:
A sullen antic of his crabbed wit.

LANCIOTTO. It was portentous. All dumb things find tongues Against this marriage. As I passed the hall, My armour glittered on the wall, and I Paused by the harness, as before a friend Whose well-known features slack our hurried gait; Francesca's name was fresh upon my mind, So I half-uttered it. Instant, my sword Leaped from its scabbard, as with sudden life, Plunged down and pierced into the oaken floor, Shivering with fear! Lo! while I gazed upon it-- Doubting the nature of the accident-- Around the point appeared a spot of blood, Oozing upon the floor, that spread and spread-- As I stood gasping by in speechless horror-- Ring beyond ring, until the odious tide Crawled to my feet, and lapped them, like the tongues Of angry serpents! O, my God! I fled At the first touch of the infernal stain! Go--you may see--go to the hall!

PAOLO. Fie! man, You have been ever played on in this sort By your wild fancies. When your heart is high, You make them playthings; but in lower moods, They seem to sap the essence of your soul, And drain your manhood to its poorest dregs.

LANCIOTTO. Go look, go look!

PAOLO. [_Goes to the door, and returns._] There sticks the sword, indeed, Just as your tread detached it from its sheath; Looking more like a blessed cross, I think, Than a bad looking omen. As for blood--Ha, ha! [_Laughing._] It sets mine dancing. Pshaw! away with this! Deck up your face with smiles. Go trim yourself For the young bride. New velvet, gold, and gems, Do wonders for us. Brother, come; I'll be Your tiring-man, for once.

LANCIOTTO. Array this lump-- Paolo, hark! There are some human thoughts Best left imprisoned in the aching heart, Lest the freed malefactors should dispread Infamous ruin with their liberty. There's not a man--the fairest of ye all-- Who is not fouler than he seems. This life Is one unending struggle to conceal Our baseness from our fellows. Here stands one In vestal whiteness with a lecher's lust;-- There sits a judge, holding law's scales in hands That itch to take the bribe he dare not touch;-- Here goes a priest with heavenward eyes, whose soul Is Satan's council-chamber;--there a doctor, With nature's secrets wrinkled round a brow Guilty with conscious ignorance;--and here A soldier rivals Hector's bloody deeds-- Out-does the devil in audacity-- With craven longings fluttering in a heart That dares do aught but fly! Thus are we all Mere slaves and alms-men to a scornful world, That takes us at our seeming.

PAOLO. Say 'tis true;
What do you drive at?

LANCIOTTO. At myself, full tilt. I, like the others, am not what I seem. Men call me gentle, courteous, brave.--They lie! I'm harsh, rude, and a coward. Had I nerve To cast my devils out upon the earth, I'd show this laughing planet what a hell Of envy, malice, cruelty, and scorn, It has forced back to canker in the heart Of one poor cripple!

PAOLO. Ha!

LANCIOTTO. Ay, now 'tis out! A word I never breathed to man before. Can you, who are a miracle of grace, Feel what it is to be a wreck like me? Paolo, look at me. Is there a line, In my whole bulk of wretched contraries, That nature in a nightmare ever used Upon her shapes till now? Find me the man, Or beast, or tree, or rock, or nameless thing, So out of harmony with all things else, And I'll go raving with bare happiness,-- Ay, and I'll marry Helena of Greece, And swear I do her honour!

PAOLO. Lanciotto, I, who have known you from a stripling up, Never observed, or, if I did, ne'er weighed Your special difference from the rest of men. You're not Apollo--

LANCIOTTO. No!

PAOLO. Nor yet are you A second Pluto. Could I change with you-- My graces for your nobler qualities-- Your strength, your courage, your renown--by heaven, We'd e'en change persons, to the finest hair.

LANCIOTTO. You should be flatterer to an emperor.

PAOLO. I am but just. Let me beseech you, brother. To look with greater favour on yourself; Nor suffer misty phantoms of your brain To take the place of sound realities. Go to Ravenna, wed your bride, and lull Your cruel delusions in domestic peace. Ghosts fly a fireside; 'tis their wont to stalk Through empty houses, and through empty hearts. I know Francesca will be proud of you. Women admire you heroes. Rusty sages, Pale poets, and scarred warriors, have been Their idols ever; while we fair plump fools Are elbowed to the wall, or only used For vacant pastime.

LANCIOTTO. To Ravenna?--no! In Rimini they know me; at Ravenna I'd be a new-come monster, and exposed To curious wonder. There will be parade Of all the usual follies of the state; Fellows with trumpets, tinselled coats, and wands, Would strut before me, like vain mountebanks Before their monkeys. Then, I should be stared Out of my modesty; and when they look, How can I tell if 'tis the bridegroom's face Or hump that draws their eyes? I will not go. To please you all, I'll marry; but to please The wonder-mongers of Ravenna--Ha! Paolo, now I have it. You shall go, To bring Francesca; and you'll speak of me, Not as I ought to be, but as I am. If she draw backward, give her rein; and say That neither Guido-nor herself shall feel The weight of my displeasure. You may say, I pity her--

PAOLO. For what?

LANCIOTTO. For wedding me.
In sooth, she'll need it. Say--

PAOLO. Nay, Lanciotto, I'll be a better orator in your behalf, Without your promptings.

LANCIOTTO. She is fair, 'tis said; And, dear Paolo, if she please your eye, And move your heart to anything like love, Wed her yourself. The peace would stand as firm By such a match.

PAOLO. [_Laughing._] Ha! that is right: be gay! Ply me with jokes! I'd rather see you smile Than see the sun shine.

LANCIOTTO. I am serious. I'll find another wife, less beautiful, More on my level, and--

PAOLO. An empress, brother, Were honoured by your hand. You are by much Too humble in your reckoning of yourself. I can count virtues in you, to supply Half Italy, if they were parcelled out. Look up!

LANCIOTTO. I cannot: Heaven has bent me down. To you, Paolo, I could look, however, Were my hump made a mountain. Bless him, God! Pour everlasting bounties on his head! Make Croesus jealous of his treasury, Achilles of his arms, Endymion Of his fresh beauties,--though the coy one lay, Blushing beneath Diana's earliest kiss, On grassy Latmos; and may every good, Beyond man's sight, though in the ken of heaven, Round his fair fortune to a perfect end! O, you have dried the sorrow of my eyes; My heart is beating with a lighter pulse; The air is musical; the total earth Puts on new beauty, and within the arms Of girding ocean dreams her time away, And visions bright to-morrows!

_Enter_ MALATESTA _and_ PEPE.

MALATESTA. Mount, to horse!

PEPE. [_Aside._] Good Lord! he's smiling! What's the matter now? Has anybody broken a leg or back? Has a more monstrous monster come to life? Is hell burst open?--heaven burnt up? What, what Can make yon eyesore grin?--I say, my lord, What cow has calved?

PAOLO. Your mother, by the bleat.

PEPE. Right fairly answered--for a gentleman!
When did you take my trade up?

PAOLO. When your wit
Went begging, sirrah.

PEPE. Well again! My lord,
I think he'll do.

MALATESTA. For what?

PEPE. To take my place. Once fools were rare, and then my office sped; But now the world is overrun with them: One gets one's fool in one's own family, Without much searching.

MALATESTA. Pepe, gently now. Lanciotto, you are waited for. The train Has passed the gate, and halted there for you.

LANCIOTTO. I go not to Ravenna.

MALATESTA. Hey! why not?

PAOLO. For weighty reasons, father. Will you trust Your greatest captain, hope of all the Guelfs, With crafty Guido? Should the Ghibelins Break faith, and shut Lanciotto in their walls-- Sure the temptation would be great enough-- What would you do?

MALATESTA. I'd eat Ravenna up!

PEPE. Lord! what an appetite!

PAOLO. But Lanciotto
Would be a precious hostage.

MALATESTA. True; you're wise; Guido's a fox. Well, have it your own way. What is your plan?

PAOLO. I go there in his place.

MALATESTA. Good! I will send a letter with the news.

LANCIOTTO. I thank you, brother. [_Apart to PAOLO._

PEPE. Ha! ha! ha!--O! O! [_Laughing._

MALATESTA. Pepe, what now?

PEPE. O! lord, O!--ho! ho! ho! [_Laughing._

PAOLO. Well, giggler?

PEPE. Hear my fable, uncle.

MALATESTA. Ay.

PEPE. Once on a time, Vulcan sent Mercury To fetch dame Venus from a romp in heaven. Well, they were long in coming, as he thought; And so the god of spits and gridirons Railed like himself--the devil. But--now mark-- Here comes the moral. In a little while, Vulcan grew proud, because he saw plain signs That he should be a father; and so he Strutted through hell, and pushed the devils by, Like a magnifico of Venice. Ere long, His heir was born; but then--ho! ho!--the brat Had wings upon his heels, and thievish ways, And a vile squint, like errant Mercury's, Which honest Vulcan could not understand;-- Can you?

PAOLO. 'Sdeath! fool, I'll have you in the stocks.
Father, your fool exceeds his privilege.

PEPE. [_Apart to_ PAOLO.] Keep your own bounds, Paolo. In the stocks I'd tell more fables than you'd wish to hear. And so ride forth. But, cousin, don't forget To take Lanciotto's picture to the bride. Ask her to choose between it and yourself. I'll count the moments, while she hesitates, And not grow gray at it.

PAOLO. Peace, varlet, peace!

PEPE. [_Apart to him._] Ah, now I have it. There's an elephant Upon the scutcheon; show her that, and say-- Here's Lanciotto in our heraldry!

PAOLO. Here's for your counsel!
[_Strikes_ PEPE, _who runs behind MALATESTA._

MALATESTA. Son, son, have a care!
We who keep pets must bear their pecks sometimes.
Poor knave! Ha! ha! thou'rt growing villainous!
[_Laughs and pats PEPE._

PEPE. Another blow! another life for that! [_Aside._

PAOLO. Farewell, Lanciotto. You are dull again.

LANCIOTTO. Nature will rule.

MALATESTA. Come, come!

LANCIOTTO. God speed you, brother!
I am too sad; my smiles all turn to sighs.

PAOLO. More cause to haste me on my happy work.
[_Exit with_ MALATESTA.

PEPE. I'm going, cousin.

LANCIOTTO. Go.

PEPE. Pray, ask me where.

LANCIOTTO. Where, then?

PEPE. To have my jewel carried home:
And, as I'm wise, the carrier shall be
A thief, a thief, by Jove! The fashion's new.
[_Exit._

LANCIOTTO. In truth, I am too gloomy and irrational. Paolo must be right. I always had These moody hours and dark presentiments, Without mischances following after them. The camp is my abode. A neighing steed, A fiery onset, and a stubborn fight, Rouse my dull blood, and tire my body down To quiet slumbers when the day is o'er, And night above me spreads her spangled tent, Lit by the dying cresset of the moon. Ay, that is it; I'm homesick for the camp. [_Exit._