SANCIA.
You will not hurt my little Cardinal—you will not? Ah, Paynim, had you been chosen for me instead of Joffré!
CESARE.
You have chosen me instead of Joffré.
SANCIA.
My little Joffré is no more to me than the pet foal of the stables. If His Holiness would grant divorce....
CESARE.
What may not His Holiness grant at my suggestion! Commend me by letter to your cousin Carlotta. I shall meet her in France; persuade her to desire me, and your Ippolito shall be safe. I would marry Naples, the rightful line.
SANCIA.
For this you have flaunted me through the stone-staring church! You Borgia! Always the trap in your mighty simpleness. A gull!—I hate you. [Djem sidles up.