Читать книгу Borgia - Michael Field E. - Страница 151

He never made complaint. I have been thoughtless,

Thoughtless to Cesare.... He has been absent

Too often from our ceremonials,

From our investitures. I drove him jealous

By welcome of his brother out of Spain.

I did him wrong.

Good kinsman, you have taught me

To dry my tears ... and I have still a son.

Fetch me again the little dish of food,

The wine.... I am grown faint.

See that this bruit

Come never to his mother. He is all

To her as if he were her eldest born.

God knows my love to him is infinite!

But—bid him keep his palace. I forbid

His presence here.... My sins have plunged my children

In death and hell, and I must live alone.