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It is dead midnight: lights are burning. Lord Cardinal Cesare, in the black satin dress of a Spanish gentleman, with jewelled poignard, reclines on a couch. He appears to be sleeping, except that now and again he slowly rolls from hand to hand a gold ball of perfumes. His Spanish page Juanito Grasica is asleep. Behind the couch, across a table, the great ceremonial sword lies naked, and near it is a new purchase, the sleeping Cupid with broken foot of Messer Buonarotti.

Donna Lucrezia Borgia enters with Donna Adriana Orsini, whose hand she clasps: she looses it, and, after a moment’s pause, comes to her brother.

Madonna Adriana brought me here;

She stays without: I go back to the convent.

Cesare—tell me all that I should pray.

[Turning his head back towards her from the couch.

Amanda, that your scruples be removed;

That I be Cesar.

Take a little rest.

Shall you, from prayer?

To-night you look a sibyl.

Who did this deed?

Let Juan play the lute;