_Paolo_. And I With thee unto the household altar’s foot Will also go. Who than myself more wretched? There mingled shall our sighs ascend. O, lady! Thou wilt implore my death—the death of him Whom thou abhorrest; I will pray that heaven May hear thy prayers, and all thy hate forgive, And shower down joys on thee, and long preserve Thy youth and loveliness, and give thee all Thy heart desires; all—all—thy husband’s love And children blessed! _Francesca_. Paolo! (hold, my heart!) Weep not. I do not wish your death. _Paolo_. Yet—yet— You hate me! _Francesca_. And what reck you, if I ought To hate you? I disturb you not. To-morrow I shall be here no more. Be to your brother A kind and true companion: for my loss Console him; me he surely will lament. Ah me! of all in Rimini, he only Will weep when it is known to him. Now listen; Tell him not yet—but know, I never more Return to Rimini; sorrow will kill me. When he shall hear, my husband, these sad tidings, Console him; and you too, perhaps—for him May shed a tear. _Paolo_. Francesca—and you ask What reck I, if you hate me! and me doth Your hate disturb not—nor your fatal words? Oh! lovely as an angel, by the Deity Created in the most impassioned moment Of heavenly love—dear, dear to every heart— A happy wife—and dar’st thou speak of death? To me such words belong, who for vain honors Was banished from my native country far, And lost—alas! a father then I lost. I hoped again to embrace him. He would never Have made me wretched, had he known my heart, But given me her—her whom I now have lost Forever. _Francesca_. What mean you? Of your beloved You speak—and are you without her so wretched? So mighty then is love within your breast! Love should not reign sole sovereign in the hearts Of valiant cavaliers. Dear is to them The sword, and glory; such are noble passions. Follow them, thou, and let not love debase thee. _Paolo_. What do I hear? hast thou compassion on me? And wouldst thou hate me less, if with the sword I should acquire a loftier fame? One word From thee suffices. Name the spot—the years; I will depart to earth’s remotest shores; The harder and more perilous I find The enterprise, the sweeter will it be, Since thou, Francesca, dost impose the task. The love of fame and daring have indeed Made strong my arm; far stronger shall it be In thy adored name. Nor ever stained Shall be mine honors with a fierce ambition. No crown I covet, or will seek, save one Of laurel, twined by thee: enough for me Thy sole applause—a word—a smile—a look— _Francesca_. Eternal God! _Paolo_. I love thee! O, Francesca— I love thee! and most desperate is my love! _Francesca_. What words are these? I rave! What hast thou said? _Paolo_. I love thee!