[Passing his hand across his brow.] I am coining day and night and in my dreams:
I cannot.... I am bare
Of treasure, save these vestments that the Church
Casts on my poverty. I have no jewels,
No raiment, no reserve....
But Cardinal Lopez
Is fading every day.
CESARE.
I cannot wait.
ALEXANDER.
Pish! You shall have the wages. But last evening
You plained you needed more artillery,
And Messer Leonardo would be idle
Among the forts unless I furnished you—
Fate will: for Lopez dies.
These busy Cardinals
Build each a piece of honeycomb in mass
Sufficient.... Why, Michele, Giambattista
Orsini, and Ferrari
Have sweet within their cells for all Romagna.
Ah, we shall need
More than the harvest of the Jubilee,
A tithe, a fresh Crusade.... What else?
CESARE.
[In a vibrating voice.] The King of France
Sanctions my new campaign. I kissed his envoy,
Lifting my mask off—father.
ALEXANDER.
He grants you freedom, will molest no more?
My policy of months confirmed!