You start for France—
Give me some charge. We part so suddenly....
His Holiness....
CESARE.
Be gamesome to our father
While I am absent, for he has a trick
Of dwindling down as Tiber on his bed,
Parched Tiber on his bed, when I withdraw.
We are his twin divinities, his Pollux,—
Since Castor is by chance thrust out—his Pollux,
And his most gracious Helen.... The rare smile,
The cypher smile! Your spells are on again.
Our father loves the dance—dance to fatigue.
LUCREZIA.
Pas seul; I cannot!
CESARE.
Then....
[Springing up, he lightly takes her hand, and, looking into each other’s eyes, they dance a slow measure.
[As they break off.] This is the perfect spectacle, I own;
This swells the veins upon the father’s brow.
But thou canst dance,
Lucrezia, to thyself as airily
As any creature of the air: dance thus.