CESARE.
Agapito!
You are as I....
[In a whisper.] Write it. [Agapito turns to the desk.
O my Cesena,
A word to soil you!—Overthrown,
Forli, Cesena, and my guardian Rocca,
Proof against every hazard, save your lord’s
Betrayal of your honour! Fallen—O fallen!
The walls—the walls before me!
[Julius has moved to the table to receive the writing. Cesare throws himself prone on his conch and does not move.
A Chamberlain enters.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Holiness,
Messer Buonarotti, waits command.
He brings a drawing of ten Victories
Niched in your monument.
JULIUS.
Ah, the winged Victories,
Each triumphing above a subject province,
Disarmed beneath her feet. How terribly
This chafing Florentine achieves my future!
Ten times a victor, yet no war declared:
The Church triumphant—ay, since militant!
AGAPITO.
[As the pen falls from his hand and he gives the writing to Julius.