[In black, and black mask, Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna glides in, closing the door behind him.
CESARE.
[Without unmasking.] Splendid! Put it by—
France has forbidden me another stroke
Of arms, and I have ridden
Swift as the wind rides air, by day, by night,
To reach your counsel, fix our policy.
France has forbidden me another stroke
Of arms, and I have ridden
Swift as the wind rides air, by day, by night,
To reach your counsel, fix our policy.
ALEXANDER.
I have found France of late a slackening friend;
And I have dandled Spain and sung her soft;
At the first open moment she is ours.
And I have dandled Spain and sung her soft;
At the first open moment she is ours.
CESARE.
Spain! You would threaten France?
Diavolo,
It is a game of patience quivering
Upon its leash....
Diavolo,
It is a game of patience quivering
Upon its leash....
ALEXANDER.
Are all the rebel-mercenaries slaughtered?
CESARE.
Of the Orsini only one—Giordano
Braves us at Bracciano.... Some one knocks.
Send them away. [He hides in a further closet.
Braves us at Bracciano.... Some one knocks.
Send them away. [He hides in a further closet.
ALEXANDER.
Enter!
POTO.
Your Blessedness,
Lord Cardinal Orsini died this morning;
All our physicians
Could not subdue his terror that has summoned
The death it feared.
Lord Cardinal Orsini died this morning;
All our physicians
Could not subdue his terror that has summoned
The death it feared.
ALEXANDER.
You watched?
POTO.
I watched him; as a babe, he breathed his last.
ALEXANDER.
Good, good Orsini—as a babe! His mother
Bears but the common loss.
I am shaking, Poto.
Quick, to his private house, surprise the treasure;
Go, seal it ours; go, inventory all. [Exit Poto.
[At the door.] Command Burcardus lay the Cardinal
Where it is public to the scrutiny
Of the whole world he died a natural death.
Bears but the common loss.
I am shaking, Poto.
Quick, to his private house, surprise the treasure;
Go, seal it ours; go, inventory all. [Exit Poto.
[At the door.] Command Burcardus lay the Cardinal
Where it is public to the scrutiny
Of the whole world he died a natural death.
POTO’S VOICE.
Burcardus, Holiness, refuses portion
In this affair.
In this affair.
ALEXANDER.
Poltroonery! Then, Poto,
Command his office.
[Returning.] Heaven has interposed.
[To Cesare, who advances.] Lord Cardinal Orsini
Is dead now....
Command his office.
[Returning.] Heaven has interposed.
[To Cesare, who advances.] Lord Cardinal Orsini
Is dead now....
CESARE.
Cantarella does not check.
It is game!
It is game!
ALEXANDER.
Most sure. But, Cesare,
The joy, the fortune—he has died by nature,
And can be shown lying in simple death....
The joy, the fortune—he has died by nature,
And can be shown lying in simple death....
[Cesare laughs derisively.
CESARE.
No, I am soiled and marred.
I am not well.
I am not well.
ALEXANDER.
Giordano
Flaunts it at Bracciano? Cesare,
Unroost him; we will finish the whole brood.
Flaunts it at Bracciano? Cesare,
Unroost him; we will finish the whole brood.
CESARE.
He clings to France; we must not threaten him
Till we can threaten Louis.
Till we can threaten Louis.
ALEXANDER.
Straight
You shall unroost him.
You shall unroost him.
CESARE.
No! The Lilies
Of France are the white badges of my fortune.
I shall not break with France too suddenly.
Of France are the white badges of my fortune.
I shall not break with France too suddenly.
ALEXANDER.
This is my will and I must be obeyed.
CESARE.
[His fingers twisting his sword-chain.] Not mine.
ALEXANDER.
Unless you do this thing and bury
The brood that hates us, I withdraw from you
My treasure and I excommunicate
A disobedient son. It is my will.
The brood that hates us, I withdraw from you
My treasure and I excommunicate
A disobedient son. It is my will.
[Cesare’s fingers twist the chain so violently it snaps, and the sword drops to the ground.
CESARE.
ALEXANDER.
Hush! But in this my will. Paternity
Sees with hot passion where the foe is hidden.
You yield obedience, son?
Sees with hot passion where the foe is hidden.
You yield obedience, son?
CESARE.
Your fool, your fool!
ALEXANDER.
The voice so slack, my heart,
Its cordiality unbraced! Nay, nay,
You are over-wearied. Come into your Stanze.
At your bedside, when you are laid to rest,
And have drunk wine and eaten, I will ponder
Our state-craft, and receive from you the story
Of Sinigaglia.
Its cordiality unbraced! Nay, nay,
You are over-wearied. Come into your Stanze.
At your bedside, when you are laid to rest,
And have drunk wine and eaten, I will ponder
Our state-craft, and receive from you the story
Of Sinigaglia.
CESARE.
That is past.
Our talk must all lie onward.... Whew, the pain
Of riding rough for hours!
Our talk must all lie onward.... Whew, the pain
Of riding rough for hours!
ALEXANDER.
I hate you black like this—night on your face.
CESARE.
I am marred.
ALEXANDER.
ACT V
SCENE I
A very squalid, little street, giving on to the Tiber. It is low tide; some few stars are coming out. A masked figure seats itself on the remains of an old barge, tilted up.
Children peep from their play: then one of them whispers to his companions: they flee.
A few Bargemen come up and observe the Mask; one shakes his head.
BARGEMAN.
Better be absent! No, no! Do not observe him, Bernardo. If you hear nothing, see nothing, contain nothing, you cannot be hanged.
ANOTHER.
Do not cringe; haul in those nets. ’Tis safer so.
[They set to work; an oar drops with noise. One or two salute the Mask, but, at the slow turning of his head, they go away.
[Two Cardinals land from the opposite bank; they pause, then shuffle into the night.
[The Mask shifts his posture.
THE MASK.
[Another masked figure advances stealthily.
Eigh, Michelotto!
MICHELOTTO.
[In a whisper.] Caught, gagged—those false Albanians!
CESARE.
Shall I sentence
A troop of tetchy mercenaries? Ho,
Boon fellow, have I brought you here to-night,
By this dim waterside, to give me tidings
Of a few minnows trapped, that should be landed
Unconscious in the haul?
I have seen burthen
Of princes on this back; I have seen their jewels
Dangling from belt and chains. What sights
I have beheld....
A troop of tetchy mercenaries? Ho,
Boon fellow, have I brought you here to-night,
By this dim waterside, to give me tidings
Of a few minnows trapped, that should be landed
Unconscious in the haul?
I have seen burthen
Of princes on this back; I have seen their jewels
Dangling from belt and chains. What sights
I have beheld....
MICHELOTTO.
And shall, if you will trust me with your hopes.
CESARE.
Uncertain! [They are silent.
Hopes—a hollow!
Slaughter the flocks of Ajax!
Hopes—a hollow!
Slaughter the flocks of Ajax!
MICHELOTTO.
Stay!
God’s health, you have your plans, or I am palsied!
God’s health, you have your plans, or I am palsied!
CESARE.
[Pulling Michelotto’s ear-ring.
Fondling, I have my plans: but not as God
Hovers His hand among the elements
To pick His missile; rather as Olympus,
Blustering and fickle, backs the game at Troy.
[After a pause.] I am tense and weary;
I dream too much—the fever of my dreaming
Strikes me at head of hosts,
And some in Spanish armour, some in French,
Innumerable hosts....
Hovers His hand among the elements
To pick His missile; rather as Olympus,
Blustering and fickle, backs the game at Troy.
[After a pause.] I am tense and weary;
I dream too much—the fever of my dreaming
Strikes me at head of hosts,
And some in Spanish armour, some in French,
Innumerable hosts....
[Michelotto scans him anxiously; then rises, shaking himself.
MICHELOTTO.
Come with me, come eaves-dropping! Ho, my wits
Were never nimbler; to each blood-caprice
I will give satisfaction, as a mistress
Stirs to appease her lord’s carnality.
Were never nimbler; to each blood-caprice
I will give satisfaction, as a mistress
Stirs to appease her lord’s carnality.
CESARE.
[In the same tone.] I watched you strangling Trocchio ... but my father
Wept with shut eyes his trusted secretary
Fled from his table to betray our dealings
With Spain to France. The Vatican is dull!
Scruples are there and injuries and age....
[On his feet.] Why, like a hawk in ringing flight, I harassed
The creature for an hour to find if secret
From France we had cut off his treachery:
And in the Papagallo
My father wept! Ho, Trocchio swings out now
Where all can see him from Sant’ Angelo—
His master and the Curia and the people.
My father wept.... At noon was he not merry
When Cardinal Michele’s death assured us
One hundred fifty thousand ducats? Ecco!
I did not sing my cantarella’s praise.
Dull at the Vatican!
And what to do?
Join Spain and join Gonsalvo, a commander
Even of my wing, the conqueror of Naples;
Or hold obsequious in my tethered hand
The Gallic fleur-de-luce?
Unpleasant gulfs,
Shoals!... And to poise before the Balances
Watching their poise!
Wept with shut eyes his trusted secretary
Fled from his table to betray our dealings
With Spain to France. The Vatican is dull!
Scruples are there and injuries and age....
[On his feet.] Why, like a hawk in ringing flight, I harassed
The creature for an hour to find if secret
From France we had cut off his treachery:
And in the Papagallo
My father wept! Ho, Trocchio swings out now
Where all can see him from Sant’ Angelo—
His master and the Curia and the people.
My father wept.... At noon was he not merry
When Cardinal Michele’s death assured us
One hundred fifty thousand ducats? Ecco!
I did not sing my cantarella’s praise.
Dull at the Vatican!
And what to do?
Join Spain and join Gonsalvo, a commander
Even of my wing, the conqueror of Naples;
Or hold obsequious in my tethered hand
The Gallic fleur-de-luce?
Unpleasant gulfs,
Shoals!... And to poise before the Balances
Watching their poise!
MICHELOTTO.
But you regret no action?
CESARE.
[His voice trembles and he laughs.]
Pastoral! And for cause Vicarius sum
Sanctae Ecclesiae!... Good Michelotto,
Hire me a boat, and row me down the stream.
Sanctae Ecclesiae!... Good Michelotto,
Hire me a boat, and row me down the stream.
SCENE II
The Garden of the Vatican, toward sunset.
The Lord Alexander VI., the Lord Cardinal Bartolomeo of Segovia, the Lord Bishop of Venosa and Monsignore Gaspare Poto.
BISHOP OF VENOSA.
The sun eats as a canker.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Rome
Is festering with this fever like a pest.
I move and speak with strange uneasiness,
As if the motions of my life had fear.
Is festering with this fever like a pest.
I move and speak with strange uneasiness,
As if the motions of my life had fear.
ALEXANDER.
Sol in Leone! There is nothing pleasant
When the year fills that tract ... rage, rage, and sandy,
Consuming light!
I live a damp, old horse,
O’er-ridden by the ardour of the air:
No neatness round my throat, the cope flung off,
And all the passion of my flesh for shade.
Here there are shady grottoes from the darkness
Of trees; the heat is here unpressed by walls;
When the year fills that tract ... rage, rage, and sandy,
Consuming light!
I live a damp, old horse,
O’er-ridden by the ardour of the air:
No neatness round my throat, the cope flung off,
And all the passion of my flesh for shade.
Here there are shady grottoes from the darkness
Of trees; the heat is here unpressed by walls;
[Little Don Rodrigo and Don Giovanni come from behind a shrubbery.
Here children at their play
Show us their lissome bodies and red faces
Sol in Leone cannot agitate.
My lords, you see we sink on holiday,
And, fearful, take much care to keep our person
From danger—so persuaded by these deaths
Of daily happening: under ilex-trees
We ply our statecraft.
France has bidden us
Prove our fidelity and help her king
To oust from Naples Spain. Our holy troops
And gonfalon will be in readiness
Within six days, and we must part awhile
From our Duke Cesare.
Show us their lissome bodies and red faces
Sol in Leone cannot agitate.
My lords, you see we sink on holiday,
And, fearful, take much care to keep our person
From danger—so persuaded by these deaths
Of daily happening: under ilex-trees
We ply our statecraft.
France has bidden us
Prove our fidelity and help her king
To oust from Naples Spain. Our holy troops
And gonfalon will be in readiness
Within six days, and we must part awhile
From our Duke Cesare.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Wise sacrifice!
You know the Church has all to gain from France.
You know the Church has all to gain from France.
ALEXANDER.
So it is thought, my lord.
... Well, mite, Giovanni!
You run across the gravel with a shell,
A little, empty house, and hot as lead
Fired from a cannon?
Nestle all your curls
Under a few, large vine-leaves. Tell Rodrigo
He must not dip his head within the fountain—
The cold will make him break out of a plague.
Run, run and pull him from the brim.... Yes, baby,
Leave me your shell.
My lords, go in awhile.
Poto shall serve cooled wine.
... Well, mite, Giovanni!
You run across the gravel with a shell,
A little, empty house, and hot as lead
Fired from a cannon?
Nestle all your curls
Under a few, large vine-leaves. Tell Rodrigo
He must not dip his head within the fountain—
The cold will make him break out of a plague.
Run, run and pull him from the brim.... Yes, baby,
Leave me your shell.
My lords, go in awhile.
Poto shall serve cooled wine.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
No, no!
To drink increases thirst. I will not drink.
To drink increases thirst. I will not drink.
ALEXANDER.
Cooled wine—
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
No, no!
[The Pope laughs deprecatingly.
ALEXANDER.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
No, no!
[They bow deeply to each other, and Poto takes the Cardinal and Bishop within.
ALEXANDER.
[To one of the children, as he perceives his son.
Roble, play further off!
[Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna comes to his side.
Just up and had your meal?
There is some sense in your strange hours when Sol
Is in Leone—night for day!
But, though your room be marble, what Inferno
Of flame to sleep through the bare hotness.
There is some sense in your strange hours when Sol
Is in Leone—night for day!
But, though your room be marble, what Inferno
Of flame to sleep through the bare hotness.
CESARE.
Father,
If you enjoy the fresher feel of night,
I bring an invitation you will welcome
From the Lord Adrian of Cornuto.
If you enjoy the fresher feel of night,
I bring an invitation you will welcome
From the Lord Adrian of Cornuto.
ALEXANDER.
Ah,
He has a vineyard under broad-leaved shadow,
Where gods could sup.
He has a vineyard under broad-leaved shadow,
Where gods could sup.
CESARE.
Where you will sup,
To-morrow evening.
To-morrow evening.
ALEXANDER.
Baccho!
It will be cool. The country is a blessing
To think of when it darkens and revives.
It will be cool. The country is a blessing
To think of when it darkens and revives.
CESARE.
You will not heat with riding at that hour.
ALEXANDER.
CESARE.
Too hot and still
For camps or marches ... like a painful dream!
For camps or marches ... like a painful dream!
[He sits by his father.
ALEXANDER.
Ay, so, so!
Cesare, if this strong heat
Struck me with apoplexy, pest, or fever,
You would be struck with peril.... O my heart,
My prince, could you endure from your own root,
And bear the shock of onset?
Cesare, if this strong heat
Struck me with apoplexy, pest, or fever,
You would be struck with peril.... O my heart,
My prince, could you endure from your own root,
And bear the shock of onset?
CESARE.
Always
I built broad the foundations of my power.
The kindred
Of all I dispossessed are gone from earth,
Where no successor of your Holiness
Could raise them my opponents: half my train
Is filled with high-born nobles, once the servants
Of Colonnesi and Orsini, now
My gentlemen and hung upon my fortune
As it were hope itself: the Sacred College,
You know, is more than half subservient to me....
But—are you ailing?
I built broad the foundations of my power.
The kindred
Of all I dispossessed are gone from earth,
Where no successor of your Holiness
Could raise them my opponents: half my train
Is filled with high-born nobles, once the servants
Of Colonnesi and Orsini, now
My gentlemen and hung upon my fortune
As it were hope itself: the Sacred College,
You know, is more than half subservient to me....
But—are you ailing?
ALEXANDER.
No, no—hot and dull,
Not ailing.
Not ailing.
CESARE.
There are dancers, courtesans,
Who will in movements of the long-lost breeze
Fan the dead air—if you will visit me
To-night: to-morrow in the vineyard-garden
We sup.... ’Tis hard to get the dancers now:
The women shut their doors and strike their bodies
In terror at the fever that can kill.
They need await no other—lust is dead.
... You will announce at the next Consistory
I join the French?
Who will in movements of the long-lost breeze
Fan the dead air—if you will visit me
To-night: to-morrow in the vineyard-garden
We sup.... ’Tis hard to get the dancers now:
The women shut their doors and strike their bodies
In terror at the fever that can kill.
They need await no other—lust is dead.
... You will announce at the next Consistory
I join the French?
ALEXANDER.
Ay—with the treaties
Between us and the Spaniards and Gonsalvo
Safe in my coffers: for the French will fail;
And, though they raised you up, they hold you back
From Florence and your clutch on Tuscany.
You have Romagna firm.
Between us and the Spaniards and Gonsalvo
Safe in my coffers: for the French will fail;
And, though they raised you up, they hold you back
From Florence and your clutch on Tuscany.
You have Romagna firm.
CESARE.
O father,
Live a few years and I shall be your king!
As you love me, live till Tuscany is mine.
Live, live!
Live a few years and I shall be your king!
As you love me, live till Tuscany is mine.
Live, live!
ALEXANDER.
For you
I have done harder things than conquer death.
I have done harder things than conquer death.
[They are silent.
What are the great eyes dreaming of?
CESARE.
The heat,
And something dreadful in it—of the places,
Corneto, Piombino, yet ungirdled
By one domain.
[Rising impetuously.] Oh, to desert the French!
Although I march
As of their army, at their first reverse
We close the northern passages.
And something dreadful in it—of the places,
Corneto, Piombino, yet ungirdled
By one domain.
[Rising impetuously.] Oh, to desert the French!
Although I march
As of their army, at their first reverse
We close the northern passages.
ALEXANDER.
Ha, ha, ha! ha!
A trap for Louis....
—Cardinal Michele
Was suddenly distempered by this ill,
Dying as swiftly as if venom wrought:
So fatal is the weather to stout frames!
Son, I incline to fat.... I would I owned
Your thin and agile limbs.
A trap for Louis....
—Cardinal Michele
Was suddenly distempered by this ill,
Dying as swiftly as if venom wrought:
So fatal is the weather to stout frames!
Son, I incline to fat.... I would I owned
Your thin and agile limbs.
CESARE.
ALEXANDER.
Ah, God! Such wishes weigh on me unkindly,
... Nay, not unkindly! But your eyes are swept
So wide across the breadths of Italy,
You call up years for me as if you were
A necromancer, not my very son
Whose proud, hot Spanish blood, whose fire and courage
Have given my flesh its youth again so often.
Your mother’s land is changing you, beloved—
All schemes, all plots ... and where now is the smile
That flashed along your lips and made me sing
Ave Maria plena gratia—where?
... Nay, not unkindly! But your eyes are swept
So wide across the breadths of Italy,
You call up years for me as if you were
A necromancer, not my very son
Whose proud, hot Spanish blood, whose fire and courage
Have given my flesh its youth again so often.
Your mother’s land is changing you, beloved—
All schemes, all plots ... and where now is the smile
That flashed along your lips and made me sing
Ave Maria plena gratia—where?
[Cesare moves impatiently.
CESARE.
I am grown anxious, as my foemen’s watch
When one of my huge pieces takes its station
For ruin’s work.... This pestilential heat!...
Well, Roble, what an orange you have snatched,
Round as your eyes!
[To Alexander.] Lucrece!—Oh, have you seen her
Look at you from the child?
[With a bitter laugh.] I shall begin
To talk of years ago, like an old man.
Farewell!
They need me at the Mola.
[With a smile.] Then to night
The dance! To-morrow the al fresco feast! [Exit.
When one of my huge pieces takes its station
For ruin’s work.... This pestilential heat!...
Well, Roble, what an orange you have snatched,
Round as your eyes!
[To Alexander.] Lucrece!—Oh, have you seen her
Look at you from the child?
[With a bitter laugh.] I shall begin
To talk of years ago, like an old man.
Farewell!
They need me at the Mola.
[With a smile.] Then to night
The dance! To-morrow the al fresco feast! [Exit.
ALEXANDER.
I’m envious of Lucrezia, and weary,
More weary than with August—all my passion
Hard on my heart at last! My Cesare,
—Beautiful and cold as steel, his mind
Shining and shallow as the moon—for certain,
If he had been Medea, he had simmered
My ageing body in the cauldron’s flood,
Like Æson’s, for his purpose.... Solitary!
Age, age! And when the young are still,
The young who should be noisy, it is vacant.
I shall see Lucrezia in the spring: and yet
I know I shall not see her.
There, I am glad
The children have been captured by their nurse.
Buona notte, little ones! [The Children are taken away.
Ah, but I would
I were as other fathers, and could make him
My heritor, and aid him by my death.
It is so good the old should die;
It is very good to die, but I must live;
I must subserve, must give my hand
In signature to any of his dreams,
Taking, in caritate,
A lovely eye-glance from him.... And Lucrece
Gone too, her husband’s prisoner! Where my Pearl
And my great royal Diamond have been set
Here in my bosom—hollows!
And this twilight
Is filling them....
[With a sudden, terrified cry.] Lucrezia, Cesare!
Lucrece!
More weary than with August—all my passion
Hard on my heart at last! My Cesare,
—Beautiful and cold as steel, his mind
Shining and shallow as the moon—for certain,
If he had been Medea, he had simmered
My ageing body in the cauldron’s flood,
Like Æson’s, for his purpose.... Solitary!
Age, age! And when the young are still,
The young who should be noisy, it is vacant.
I shall see Lucrezia in the spring: and yet
I know I shall not see her.
There, I am glad
The children have been captured by their nurse.
Buona notte, little ones! [The Children are taken away.
Ah, but I would
I were as other fathers, and could make him
My heritor, and aid him by my death.
It is so good the old should die;
It is very good to die, but I must live;
I must subserve, must give my hand
In signature to any of his dreams,
Taking, in caritate,
A lovely eye-glance from him.... And Lucrece
Gone too, her husband’s prisoner! Where my Pearl
And my great royal Diamond have been set
Here in my bosom—hollows!
And this twilight
Is filling them....
[With a sudden, terrified cry.] Lucrezia, Cesare!
Lucrece!
SCENE III
The Pope’s bedchamber in the Borgia Apartments.
Monsignore Burchard at the bed’s head watching: two card-players at a little table by the bedside. The Lord Alexander VI. is sitting up in bed, his glazed eyes fixed on the game. A crowd of Physicians, Surgeons, Apothecaries. The Cardinals consulting anxiously with the Pope’s Chief Physician, the Lord Bishop of Venosa.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Does he see?
Does he attend?
Does he attend?
BISHOP OF VENOSA.
He sees; but if the dying
Attend, or how to construe their attention,
Whether their eyes are purged, or focus fresh
We scarce may reckon. These illumined eyes
Are abstract, steady in their fever-light:
My lords, ere morning we shall see them fade,
Or soften into life. A child-like nature,
That may just slip away, or, fronting death,
As at a play, leave the grim stage behind,
And join us unsuspicious in the street.
Attend, or how to construe their attention,
Whether their eyes are purged, or focus fresh
We scarce may reckon. These illumined eyes
Are abstract, steady in their fever-light:
My lords, ere morning we shall see them fade,
Or soften into life. A child-like nature,
That may just slip away, or, fronting death,
As at a play, leave the grim stage behind,
And join us unsuspicious in the street.
Enter Bonafede, Lord Bishop of Chiusi, hurriedly.
BONAFEDE.
Physician!
VENOSA.
Ay, lord Bonafede—you
Come from a bed of even graver sickness,
More tragic, youth contending.
Come from a bed of even graver sickness,
More tragic, youth contending.
BONAFEDE.
Hush! Duke Cesare
Has but one thought—His Holiness.
Has but one thought—His Holiness.
VENOSA.
[Taking the Bishop by the shoulders to the bed.] That message,
Repeat it.... Then the trance
May lighten or remove.
Repeat it.... Then the trance
May lighten or remove.
BONAFEDE.
[To the Pope.] Most well-beloved,
Duke Cesare asks from his bed of sickness
For tidings of you. Every hour he sends,
And every hour
I droop him with despair. Speak of him, bless him;
Assure him of your energy to live.
Duke Cesare asks from his bed of sickness
For tidings of you. Every hour he sends,
And every hour
I droop him with despair. Speak of him, bless him;
Assure him of your energy to live.
ALEXANDER.
[Smiling from his dark eyes.] Lord Bonafede, you are temporal.
Look there.... I watch the game.
I do not care
Now who is playing or who wins: I watch.
Look there.... I watch the game.
I do not care
Now who is playing or who wins: I watch.
BONAFEDE.
ALEXANDER.
Look there! The Chance,
And how it tosses to and fro!
And how it tosses to and fro!
BURCHARD.
My lord
Takes interest in the fortunes of the game?
Takes interest in the fortunes of the game?
[The Pope nods.
ALEXANDER.
I rally—
Ay, honest Burchard, set it down—I rally.
Ay, honest Burchard, set it down—I rally.
CARDINALS.
Then speak your last requests.
—How can we serve you?
—What of Duke Cesare? Your benediction!
—What of your soul?
—How can we serve you?
—What of Duke Cesare? Your benediction!
—What of your soul?
ALEXANDER.
I am too busy dying. Bonafede—
This dying is itself a little house,
And one within
That cherishes soft as a nurse, indulgent,
And lets one wake or sleep.
[To one of the Card-Players.] How foolish of you!
You have lost your chances, listening to my talk.
You have no meaning
Unless you are intent upon the game.
Kiss me, good Bonafede, and your prayers.
This dying is itself a little house,
And one within
That cherishes soft as a nurse, indulgent,
And lets one wake or sleep.
[To one of the Card-Players.] How foolish of you!
You have lost your chances, listening to my talk.
You have no meaning
Unless you are intent upon the game.
Kiss me, good Bonafede, and your prayers.