[In a low, firm voice, while she trembles.
They will remain upon me the full time;
Their darkness on me my whole life till death.
CESARE.
Your future is irrelevant. Till death?
But nothing matters then. [Addressing his cortege.
To Pesaro!
[Turning again to Lucrezia.
You look a lady fit to nurse the wounds
Of men who fight for other women’s love.
[He coldly touches her hand—his followers bowing low to her, move aside as he passes to the door: there he steps back and surveys Lucrezia, who is shaken with agitation, then, smiling maliciously, he goes out.
LUCREZIA.
Demon!
[She weeps bitterly.] ... I am a toy
In hands that play their game of rivalry
Over the stream of death.
O child!
[She crushes Rodrigo to her breast.