This sorry Milanese!
He raves with spite and proves himself a man
By foul detraction of her family.
We chuckle at the weakling. He may hoot!
Your Don Alfonso is a noble lad,
A girl’s new phœnix....
But your master pauses
To give his only daughter to my son?
ENVOY.
A cardinal!
ALEXANDER.
A cardinal, we cannot yet release him
From vows—your ear!—he holds detestable.
My second son, where were his livelihood
Without the Church’s revenue? All prudence
Must hold him to the priesthood for a while.
Betroth him to the daughter of your king—
Your king and I, at leisure, will provide
Some principality for Cesare
To match his sees and yielded cardinalate.
ENVOY.
Make it God’s law your Cardinal may wed,
And then, his scarlet hat within his hand,
My lord the king would take him as a son.
Now, the proposals of your Holiness
Are but—poetic.
ALEXANDER.
No, no! The royal princess
Carlotta—is her bent our way?