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By the Tiber

They turned the horse and swung the body down

In heavy mire and litter. I could see

A bulrush sucked at by the risen billow,

And how a winding object swam along,

Lapped by the current—’twas the dead man’s cloak.

They pelted it with stones: then....

[To Cardinal Borgia, who supports him.] Cousin—O Francesco, And I have wit to ask where this was seen.

On the Rispetti, by the Ospedale.

[To Giorgio.] Then go and tell the fishermen; direct Those foolish, flitting lights that drive me mad.

[Giorgio moves away.

Why have you held your peace?

A hundred times,

From my beached boat

What I have seen I saw—none cared to hear.

[Exit with Inquisitor.

Thrown out as dust and refuse to the river,

My worship!—leaving me

As one who is no more. My life’s high hope

Snatched under darkness, sodden,

A dead boy, who was proud and beautiful.

Francesco, in a single night! O Cousin,

I thought that he was comforting his youth

In a kind Thaïs’ arms and he was down