SCENE II

_A Room in the_ LORD CESARE BORGIA’S _Palace of Borgo Sant’Angelo_.

MESSER BERNARDINO BETTI (PINTORICCHIO) _and_ MESSER ERCOLE _are waiting to deliver a ceremonial sword_.

_Enter_ LORD BONAFEDE, _Bishop of Chiusi_.

BONAFEDE.

The worshipful Lord Cardinal is coming; I have announced you. The ambassadors Had taken leave.

[_Examining the sword in the hands of_ MESSER ERCOLE.

By Hercules--your pardon, Yet by your name, as if it were divine-- This queen of swords is warlike, not of peace In its adornment as a legate’s sword ... A legate, _tamquam pacis angelus_, In Holy Father’s phrase. O sirs, the shame That such a soldier--what condottiere In Italy would match our Cardinal-- Is wasted on the Church.

PINTORICCHIO.

Lord Bonafede!

BONAFEDE.

I speak out of my flesh. I have gone ever cursing The tonsure where the helmet should have been. I am a man-at-arms, the jangling glories Of panoply are dearer than the bell That dins the raising of God’s sacrifice. Come, Messer Bernardino, you can mingle Your saints with Pagan bulls and goddesses Who love their gods by Nile. Cesar!

_Enter the_ LORD CARDINAL CESARE BORGIA.

CESARE.

The sword! So I receive my fate. _Cum numine Cesaris omen._ [_He holds the sword erect and kisses the motto._ The Lord Cardinal’s Sword, The Legate’s Sword! I laugh ... it is at others, The names they call me, when I have one name Hot at the core of fixedness, my heart. O antique Cesar, conqueror and fount Of empire, thou wert made my saint at birth; Thou art my spirit and my augury, Thy laurels guard me and thy eagles’ wings. My eyes are on thee and thou lead’st my dreams To homage and thy triumph. _Dive Cesar_, Here is thy name Cut as I bade upon thy chariot-wheel, Since triumphers can use the spokes of Fortune For carriage of their prevalence. My thanks To you, dear Bernardino, I have always Loved for your gifts, esteemed as one of ours, Who wove our life round with the signs and legends Denoting us by power of phantasy; I thank you for this emblem of my soul, Prefigured in these lovely images. My equal thanks To you, good Messer Ercole, for strength And nobleness of handiwork, the craft That has subverted matter, as the god Turned chaos to a fabric. Ah, and the work, Your work, is done, signed of your fame and done. You are most happy. Mine is all an absence As yet, a future! But the pledge is mine-- This sword, your creature, and my prophecy.

PINTORICCHIO.

Beloved and Cesar, you have been our poet; From you our valid agency, from you The teeming of the parable.

ERCOLE.

You notice The azure guard? It pleases you?

CESARE.

As spring’s Sky-blue. Lord Bonafede, you that savour The taste of steel, run with your finger down These grooves: now see the contour and the curves, The equilibrium, so beautiful I worship it with reverence. Now bend Above the glass, like adamant, and trace My hero in his deeds. Here is a mighty deed, And one that was of doom. This floating ensign, These naked horsemen at the riverside, The child, with wreath of laurel, by the flood Playing his flute to outset of a life.... For this is Cesar crossing Rubicon. Here are his very words: “The die is cast.” ...

_Enter_ MONSIGNORE GASPARE POTO.

POTO.

Your Worship, His Holiness requires you instantly; For he is gnawed by deep inquietude. The Duke your brother has been missed two nights, Has disappeared without a trace....

CESARE.

What, lost?

POTO.

The Holy Father shakes with agitation; His emissaries seek the city through, And he is grievously impatient, asking The aid of heaven and earth. You saw the Duke At the Madonna de’ Catanei’s house. His Holiness would question you.

CESARE.

I come.

[_They wait while_ CESARE _stands absorbed_.

POTO.

Pardon! The Holy Father is in wrath As well as fear.

CESARE.

I come. Oh, my Lord Bonafede, The sword is in your charge.... And see this picture-- The Borgian Bull, A victim at its feet. The flames are blown; There will be sacrifice! It was a dream I told to Messer Bernardino.... [_To_ POTO.] Swift, Come swiftly to the Vatican! Giovanni-- Well, is he dead, or will he yet return?