[The Pope laughs in his robe.
CARDINAL OF LISBON.
But all this jesting
Is little to the point, and the point is grave.
Release him—but we cannot. He is bound,
As we, by vows that irk and must be borne.
ALEXANDER.
[Softly.] We do not speak it by the Holy Ghost,
But to your private ear and as a Spaniard;
Such benefices as are vacant now,
And such as shall be vacant by your leave,
We shall dispose....
Ambassador, your monarch
Will own us friendly as we fill those Sees.
But, look, we tax too much this youthful patience!
Give your decision, as the Heavenly Dove
Whispers you, fluttering on from head to head.
[There is murmured discussion for awhile.
[Very softly.] Thirty-five thousand florins are renounced,
Are in our hands for gift.
O mercy, mercy, mercy!
[Pointing to Cesare.] Do you not know
Such guilt is clung about him he must perish
If still he live in blasphemy. I plead,
I am pleading for his soul. Think, there are frocks in Hell;
Think of the scandal
His licence breeds if we deny him marriage:
While he is in the Church no reformation
Can spread against his check.
It is as if you all—each one of you—
Sealed with your sapphires his eternal ruin.
I forced him to this habit, and behold him!
He has never crooked the knee. Look there, my Lords,
Look there—Achilles peering from disguise....
[Chuckling.] Pardon, my Lords, as from his maiden dress.
Mine is the fault, the error. Shall he sulk
Useless among his tents?
CESARE.
[Kneeling.] Before you
I plead for liberty—and, being released,
Whom should I serve save him who honours me,
Fixing on me his love, on me who have no merit,
Nor any place nor office in the world
Except to love him back?
[There is low discussion for a space. Don Garcilaso’s voice is heard—“Bought; I protest, I will protest till death.” Cardinal Segovia advances.