[Closing her eyes.] You are no more a priest....
CESARE.
O little, fair One,
That deadly languor
Of being a priest, cut off! You draw a cry,
An anguish from me. When I am a king
You are my counterpart, for evermore
A place beside me vacant, or your throne.
When I am Emperor, still I have chosen you
My counterpart. We played, a little flock,
Luis, Giovanni, Joffré—you and I
Were sole to one another.
LUCREZIA.
[Standing apart.] We are sole.
[Cesare scrutinises her a long time, then says suddenly.
CESARE.
Come, little Venus,
Come with me, see the cramoisie, the jewels
For Cesar’s wedding triumph, for the Duke
Of Valentinois’ progress. All my trappings
Are gold—d’or frizé: thirty thousand ducats
Lie in the damasks of my equipage.
I will put on my doublets—and you too
Shall try them on.
LUCREZIA.
Fie, fie! [She hastily takes a veil and mask.