There, there, there! Do not cry!
The child is sobbing, and my eyes ... White Fairy,
Enchantress, you are loved and you are wept
By generations: by your sire, his son,
And by your son.
LUCREZIA.
Cesare does not weep.
ALEXANDER.
His eyes burn threateningly, his face is cold;
That is a warrior’s weeping.
Cesare,
We shall be dull as monks when she is gone.
To-night ... I am the Pontiff, you almost
A Cardinal again. To think one woman,
A little bride, with streaming hair, can set me
Alone upon St. Peter’s rock to weep!
Now guard thy health, pray ever to Madonna,
The glorious Virgin. Benedicite!
Into my arms once more! O Cesare,
What I have lost to found you as a Prince,
To wed her safe to sovereignty! My Este,
My own Lucrezia—
And the letter, child;
Do not forget.
CESARE.
Come, come!
ALEXANDER.
Do not be ill;
Do not forget.
[They part: Cesare leads her to the door.