ST. FRAN. Hush, Sir! ‘Tis my little sister The poisoner, right well-belov’d by all Whom she as yet hath spared. Hither she came Mounted upon another little sister of mine-- A mare, caparison’d in goodly wise. She--I refer now to Lucrezia-- Desireth to have word of thee anent Some matter that befrets her. SAV. [To LUC.] Hence! Begone! Savonarola will not tempted be By face of woman e’en tho’ ‘t be, tho’ ‘tis, Surpassing fair. All hope abandon therefore. I charge thee: Vade retro, Satanas. LEONARDO Sirrah, thou speakst in haste, as is the way Of monkish men. The beauty of Lucrezia Commends, not discommends, her to the eyes Of keener thinkers than I take thee for. I am an artist and an engineer, Giv’n o’er to subtile dreams of what shall be On this our planet. I foresee a day When men shall skim the earth i’ certain chairs Not drawn by horses but sped on by oil Or other matter, and shall thread the sky Birdlike. LUC. It may be as thou sayest, friend, Or may be not. [To SAV.] As touching this our errand, I crave of thee, Sir Monk, an audience Instanter. FRI. Lo! Here Alighieri comes. I had methought me he was still at Parma. [Enter DANTE.] ST. FRAN. [To DAN.] How fares my little sister Beatrice? DAN. She died, alack, last sennight. ST. FRAN. Did she so? If the condolences of men avail Thee aught, take mine. DAN. They are of no avail. SAV. [To LUC.] I do refuse thee audience. LUC. Then why Didst thou not say so promptly when I ask’d it? SAV. Full well thou knowst that I was interrupted By Alighieri’s entry. [Noise without. Enter Guelfs and Ghibellines fighting.] What is this? LUC. I did not think that in this cloister’d spot There would be so much doing. I had look’d To find Savonarola all alone And tempt him in his uneventful cell. Instead o’ which--Spurn’d am I? I am I. There was a time, Sir, look to ‘t! O damnation! What is ‘t? Anon then! These my toys, my gauds, That in the cradle--aye, ‘t my mother’s breast-- I puled and lisped at,--‘Tis impossible, Tho’, faith, ‘tis not so, forasmuch as ‘tis. And I a daughter of the Borgias!-- Or so they told me. Liars! Flatterers! Currying lick-spoons! Where’s the Hell of ‘t then? ‘Tis time that I were going. Farewell, Monk, But I’ll avenge me ere the sun has sunk. [Exeunt LUC., ST. FRAN., and LEONARDO, followed by DAN. SAV., having watched LUC. out of sight, sinks to his knees, sobbing. FRI. and SACR. watch him in amazement. Guelfs and Ghibellines continue fighting as the Curtain falls.] ACT II