[Laughing.] Oh, I will dance to giddiness, and yet
So slow it is the dance within a jewel,
And infinite movement in a prisoned spark—
The poets say. I heed them not.
CESARE.
How wisely!
LUCREZIA.
To you I dance.
CESARE.
Oh, when you speak
From the bosom of your silence.... Little, fair One,
But you are dull; I want you
To feel how great are the fresh lusts that haunt me,
And with complaisance take their part and smile.
[Lifting her hand to his breast and keeping it there.
Once and for ever—and you falter now!