[In a whisper to the Pope.] The orator will disesteem me thus,
In spreading hair and schiavonetto.
ALEXANDER.
Never
Will any man but worship loveliness
Wrapt loosely and dishevelled.
Charm, my fair ones, charm
Is simple in ascendency.
Re-enter Monsignore Gaspare Poto.
POTO.
Madonna
Vanozza de’ Catanei bids me say
His Excellence the Duke of Gandia left her
At nightfall, riding with Don Cesare,
After a merry supper. Shall we search, Holiness,
His lordship’s haunts?
ALEXANDER.
O Poto, Poto, search
His haunts! The malice of these chamberlains!
Madonna Giulia, Monsignore Poto
Would search the place where Don Giovanni hides.
Have mercy on my son!
GIULIA.
Monsignore finds
Your Holiness so jovial he is conquered