And I be left a gray, old priest alone!
Well, I must bear my age and loneliness
As of the time of life.
If you would comfort me,
Daughter, in desolation—for already
The Vatican is chilling, growing hollow
Behind your cavalcade—then write to me
At every sleeping-place or tarrying-place
Along your way: and do not anger me
With negligence. Be diligent and careful,
As of your duty, to inform my thoughts
With each event that touches you. To-night
You rest at Castelnovo. Rest and eat!
Then out with pen and let the little hand,
Tired with the reins, yet for my foolish sake
Write me good-night, thy health, the courtesy
Shown to thee on thy way.
LUCREZIA.
Even beside my prayers
I set this duty.
ALEXANDER.
Sweet, and most sweetly promised!
Oh, my Lucrezia, you will never know,
For Nature will not in her rule betray
Her elder secrets to young ears, how fondly
I love you in your fairness,
That was your mother’s lure about my soul....
Lucrece, your mother is both loyal and good:
Alfonso d’Este may acclaim your virtue,
If you are hers in worth as loveliness.
Enter Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna with little Don Rodrigo d’Aragon.
Cesare and your little son!
LUCREZIA.
[Clasping her child.] Rodrigo,
I leave you with your grandsire.... Ah, my feather!
You laugh to see it dancing. I will send you
Long feathers from the city where I dwell....
O father, let me kiss you, let me see
Your hand upon his head. I cannot stay!
I am no more a bride—rather a corse
To leave all this behind.