LUCREZIA.

And the wars?

CESARE.

—Gained me Faënza, Castel-Bolognese,
Corneto, Piombino: for the French
I entered Capua....

LUCREZIA.

And you were cruel there.

CESARE.

Transcendently. Naples is crushed to earth,
Is gone, stamped French in bloodshed.
That vendetta
I look on, round and perfect—Naples,
That once eclipsed my moon and shot its arrow
Athwart my omen, Naples
Hurled down as throne and kingdom!

LUCREZIA.

Cesare! My hand—
You grasp as if to break.... Your long, white hand!