MICHELOTTO.
Come with me, come eaves-dropping! Ho, my wits
Were never nimbler; to each blood-caprice
I will give satisfaction, as a mistress
Stirs to appease her lord’s carnality.
CESARE.
[In the same tone.] I watched you strangling Trocchio ... but my father
Wept with shut eyes his trusted secretary
Fled from his table to betray our dealings
With Spain to France. The Vatican is dull!
Scruples are there and injuries and age....
[On his feet.] Why, like a hawk in ringing flight, I harassed
The creature for an hour to find if secret
From France we had cut off his treachery:
And in the Papagallo
My father wept! Ho, Trocchio swings out now
Where all can see him from Sant’ Angelo—
His master and the Curia and the people.
My father wept.... At noon was he not merry
When Cardinal Michele’s death assured us
One hundred fifty thousand ducats? Ecco!
I did not sing my cantarella’s praise.
Dull at the Vatican!
And what to do?
Join Spain and join Gonsalvo, a commander
Even of my wing, the conqueror of Naples;
Or hold obsequious in my tethered hand
The Gallic fleur-de-luce?
Unpleasant gulfs,
Shoals!... And to poise before the Balances
Watching their poise!
MICHELOTTO.
But you regret no action?
CESARE.
[Stalking to the edge of the water.] I do not weep by graves!...
Looking across the cities that I love,
Across the sheepfolds and the little cities....
[His voice trembles and he laughs.]
Pastoral! And for cause Vicarius sum
Sanctae Ecclesiae!... Good Michelotto,
Hire me a boat, and row me down the stream.