CESARE.
I cannot see:
Is there a smile behind these rays or no?
Is it dark weather, masks—or lip to lip?
LUCREZIA.
Your voice ... I lost my breath
To welcome you.
CESARE.
Then to black hell my mask!
[He throws it away and kneels.
O Excellency of Ferrara, have I
Come here too late? Do all the Cupids
Hold over this white, little face the saffron
Of Hymen’s veil already? But I dare
A kiss beneath this gold, although Alfonso
Lose one sweet, nuptial joy....
Ah, the beretta
Must off in blaze of noon, if I would reach
Beneath your brim. [Holding her chin.] Return my happiness!
[They kiss.