Borgia.—Agree that the first who is wounded shall inform the other.
Concini.—Yes, for we should not see the blood. I swear it by the thirst I feel for yours.—But not that the affair should end there.
Borgia.—No, only to begin again with more spirit.
Concini—To continue till we can lift the sword no longer.
Borgia.—Till the death of one or other of us.
Concini—I see you not. Are you in front of me?
Borgia.—Yes, wretch! Parry that thrust. Has it sped?
Concini.—No; take that in return.
Borgia.—I am untouched.
Concini.—What, still? Oh! would I could but see thy hateful visage. (They continue to fight desperately, but without touching each other. Both rest for a little.)