ALEXANDER.
[As if watching.] ... Figliuolo,
Luck is your Guardian Angel! Have you thought
Romagna needs protection against Venice,
Romagna that so soon will be your own?
The Estes of Ferrara ... could we mate
Lucrezia with the princely house! Ah, then, to northward
You were impregnable. The heir is named
Alfonso.... To a woman there is matter
Of comfort in a name. For poor Alfonso—
God rest his soul!—who now is lying dead,
Alfonso d’Este shall be sought for her.
CESARE.
[Abruptly leaving his game with the child and animal.
Has Lord Gianstefano Ferreri yet
Paid down the sum due for his Cardinalate?
I want the money.
ALEXANDER.
[In a murmur.] Such a tiger-clutch
Upon our treasuries! Fio di putta,
Bastardo! ... More, more, more,
As I made gold for Mommus!
CESARE.
Can I
Found you a power in your estates and cities
Without the wages of my soldiers? Sooner
I would pawn my Indian rubies
And ceremonial pearls than let my army
Starve for its hire. Ten thousand ducats—