The Lord Alexander VI. chafes his hands by a charcoal brazier.
ALEXANDER.
How cold! [Stirring the fuel.
And cold too in the turret. Ice and fire!
And the ice stronger than the fire—the fire
Mere dying ash!
O God, this Cesar!
Ancient of Days, what art Thou
Except Thou hast a Son executant,
And all Thy crafty thoughts are in His heart?
Ancient of Days!
My forces
Are failing, I have lost my grip. This Cesar....
Oh, he is tyrant over me! I feel him
As a great stone my heart gives way beneath:
If he encroaches
There will be nothing in my breast but stone.
[Messer Pincione is introduced by Monsignore Burchard, who retires.
Well, Messer Pincione? Is it cold?
Can you not answer when I question you?
PINCIONE.
Eh, Blessèdness.
I bring this from His Excellence the Duke. [Giving a letter.
ALEXANDER.
Warm yourself.... [Reading].... Mortal cold!
But warm yourself.
Say, Messer Pincione, to your master,
Lord Cardinal Orsini languishes
In the strict prison of the Borgia Tower;
And so has languished
Since his vile traitor-nephew was entangled
At Sinigaglia in the wondrous net.