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.