CESARE.
But it is rumoured
It is your will
The Lord Ascanio Sforza be your legate
In this affair of Naples.
ALEXANDER.
Ay, my will.
CESARE.
Your Holiness will recollect he lies
Under suspicion of Giovanni’s death.
You send a blood-stained envoy on this business,
And thrust me from my place. You have yourself
To thank for your Giovanni’s death; the honours
You heaped on him have brought him to his doom.
Will you bring more
And greater desolation on your years?
ALEXANDER.
You shall not go
To Naples. You forget your brother’s death.
CESARE.
I am your legate, if before, so after.
As for my brother’s death, that is but Fortune—
The spokes of her wheel turned bright on me. I was
Your second son, enslaved to your vocation;
Profane, I touched your sacred things and trembled
You dared to put me to such use: in secret
I wrought my sword, my legend. I am Cesar,
And he is all my omen. By a fate
So marvellous it rocks my very dreams
I wake, I rouse myself
To majesty you put on me, or let it
Drop downward to the void.