You have read it,
They told me. ’Tis the libel from Taranto
Sent to Savelli.
Christ, we are a kindred!
Carnage and rapine, perfidy....
CESARE.
Why mince it?
Assassination, incest!
[Rising from the ground with clenched hands.
ALEXANDER.
But the Latin!
The dulcitude of apophthegm, the style!
What sap in all this rankness. Cesare,
I laughed an hour, applauded with wet eyes—
Literae humaniores—so the salt
Of the strong farce compelled me.
Do you stoop
To anger? Consul Julius Cesar laughed
When choice Catullus spat an epigram,
And dined him that same evening.
CESARE.
Ho, but this poisoned insult
Is danger such as that I have to charm
Out of my army into sepulchre.
The scribblers—fah! the mercenary pens—
Shall have their lesson in good manners: silence
Laid on slit tongue and mutilated hand.
ALEXANDER.
You are too young!