SCENE I
_A very squalid, little street, giving on to the Tiber. It is low tide; some few stars are coming out. A masked figure seats itself on the remains of an old barge, tilted up._
CHILDREN _peep from their play: then one of them whispers to his companions: they flee_.
_A few_ BARGEMEN _come up and observe the_ MASK; _one shakes his head_.
BARGEMAN.
Better be absent! No, no! Do not observe him, Bernardo. If you hear nothing, see nothing, contain nothing, you cannot be hanged.
ANOTHER.
Do not cringe; haul in those nets. ’Tis safer so.
[_They set to work; an oar drops with noise. One or two salute the_ MASK, _but, at the slow turning of his head, they go away_.
[_Two_ CARDINALS _land from the opposite bank; they pause, then shuffle into the night_.
[_The_ MASK _shifts his posture_.
THE MASK.
My lusts are heavy in me, Heavy and idle. I have poisoned Rome; It gasps and wriggles: not an ounce of flesh In all this Rome but quivers in my shadow. And what is next to do? And who will fall? They dream all fixed Within this brain--and I am but an eagle Moving subservient to the ranker air.
[_Another masked figure advances stealthily._
Eigh, Michelotto!
MICHELOTTO.
[_In a whisper._] Caught, gagged--those false Albanians!
CESARE.
Shall I sentence A troop of tetchy mercenaries? Ho, Boon fellow, have I brought you here to-night, By this dim waterside, to give me tidings Of a few minnows trapped, that should be landed Unconscious in the haul? I have seen burthen Of princes on this back; I have seen their jewels Dangling from belt and chains. What sights I have beheld....
MICHELOTTO.
And shall, if you will trust me with your hopes.
CESARE.
Uncertain! [_They are silent._ Hopes--a hollow! Slaughter the flocks of Ajax!
MICHELOTTO.
Stay! God’s health, you have your plans, or I am palsied!
CESARE.
[_Pulling_ MICHELOTTO’S _ear-ring_.
Fondling, I have my plans: but not as God Hovers His hand among the elements To pick His missile; rather as Olympus, Blustering and fickle, backs the game at Troy. [_After a pause._] I am tense and weary; I dream too much--the fever of my dreaming Strikes me at head of hosts, And some in Spanish armour, some in French, Innumerable hosts....
[MICHELOTTO _scans him anxiously; then rises, shaking himself_.
MICHELOTTO.
Come with me, come eaves-dropping! Ho, my wits Were never nimbler; to each blood-caprice I will give satisfaction, as a mistress Stirs to appease her lord’s carnality.
CESARE.
[_In the same tone._] I watched you strangling Trocchio ... but my father Wept with shut eyes his trusted secretary Fled from his table to betray our dealings With Spain to France. The Vatican is dull! Scruples are there and injuries and age.... [_On his feet._] Why, like a hawk in ringing flight, I harassed The creature for an hour to find if secret From France we had cut off his treachery: And in the Papagallo My father wept! Ho, Trocchio swings out now Where all can see him from Sant’ Angelo-- His master and the Curia and the people. My father wept.... At noon was he not merry When Cardinal Michele’s death assured us One hundred fifty thousand ducats? _Ecco!_ I did not sing my _cantarella’s_ praise. Dull at the Vatican! And what to do? Join Spain and join Gonsalvo, a commander Even of my wing, the conqueror of Naples; Or hold obsequious in my tethered hand The Gallic fleur-de-luce? Unpleasant gulfs, Shoals!... And to poise before the Balances Watching their poise!
MICHELOTTO.
But you regret no action?
CESARE.
[_Stalking to the edge of the water._] I do not weep by graves!... Looking across the cities that I love, Across the sheepfolds and the little cities....
[_His voice trembles and he laughs._]
Pastoral! And for cause _Vicarius sum Sanctae Ecclesiae_!... Good Michelotto, Hire me a boat, and row me down the stream.