[His fingers twisting his sword-chain.] Not mine.
ALEXANDER.
Unless you do this thing and bury
The brood that hates us, I withdraw from you
My treasure and I excommunicate
A disobedient son. It is my will.
[Cesare’s fingers twist the chain so violently it snaps, and the sword drops to the ground.
CESARE.
I am your fool....
The fool of all these Kings, this Pope. No throne!
There is no throne....
[With a low bow.] Your abject servitor!
ALEXANDER.
Hush! But in this my will. Paternity
Sees with hot passion where the foe is hidden.
You yield obedience, son?
CESARE.
Your fool, your fool!