VENOSA.

[Taking the Bishop by the shoulders to the bed.] That message,
Repeat it.... Then the trance
May lighten or remove.

BONAFEDE.

[To the Pope.] Most well-beloved,
Duke Cesare asks from his bed of sickness
For tidings of you. Every hour he sends,
And every hour
I droop him with despair. Speak of him, bless him;
Assure him of your energy to live.

ALEXANDER.

[Smiling from his dark eyes.] Lord Bonafede, you are temporal.
Look there.... I watch the game.
I do not care
Now who is playing or who wins: I watch.

BONAFEDE.

The Duke is very sick.

ALEXANDER.

Look there! The Chance,
And how it tosses to and fro!