CESARE.
The hour is portioned mine.
Of my demand you listen, Holiness.
[He throws his black velvet cloak at the Pope’s feet and lying down props his head against his fathers knees.
Aut Cesar,
Aut Nihil! There is danger
From Fortune in this new campaign. My Captains,
The cursed Condottieri,
Are plotting to betray me. Holy Father,
Between us, you and me, there must be action
Of policy as ductile and as cool
As ever was concerted.
ALEXANDER.
True! With France
Incessantly adroit I must secure
Continuance of her aid....
Danger and treason?
To you, my mystic Angel, treachery?
You take my heart out....
Mary, Queen of Angels,
Protect our arms, protect my son!
And you—?
CESARE.
[Suddenly on his knees, close to his father’s ear.
These mercenaries—Baglioni,
Vitelli, the Orsini, in one grave
Shall sink entrammelled.... Do they know me yet?...
And their injurious arms be drawn of sting,
Their troops unweaponed.