Borgia (pushing him from him.)—Back, then, and draw your sword.
Concini (draws.)—Begin.
Borgia.—Remove those children—they would be in our way.
Concini.—They are gone.
Borgia.—Take these letters, assassin! I had promised to restore them to you. (He hands to Concini a black portfolio.)
Concini.—I would have taken them from your body.
Borgia.—I have performed my promise—and now, ravisher! look to yourself.
Concini.—Base seducer, defend thyself.
Borgia.—The night is dark, but I shall feel you by my hate: Plant your foot against the wall, that you may not retreat.
Concini.—Would I could chain yours to the pavement, that I might be sure of my mark!