(fully armored) You make a manly figure on your horse, Cardinal- but the French cannon will soon break down your walls, and you will be impotent in the face of them. (Giovanni Sforza smirks)
(calmly) My walls may yet prove stronger than you think, my Lady.
Part for the King! The King! Make way! (Charles, fully armored but still sick, rides out to join them)
(coldly) We have Italian friends, Cardinal Borgia, but our business... is all French.
And, that business is?
To gain entry to the city of Rome. The easy way... or, the hard. You have decorate the walls of Rome with flags and pennants- to welcome us, I presume?
(smirks) Your Highness is indeed welcome... to march on, past Rome.
(furious) I warn you, Cardinal: I shall RAZE your city! Take terrible revenge on YOU, YOUR FAMILY AND THE PAPACY ITSELF!
You must enter, first.
My cannon will gain me entry! Twelve hours, I have been assured, to batter down those walls!
... Perhaps my cannon will make their statement, first.
CANNONS, FORWARD! (the "cannons" are rolled into the attack position)
(to herself) How did they manage to?...
(ashen-faced)...General?
(looking equally worried) Our battle line is still forming, my Liege.
I must compliment Your Highness on his ingenuity. Chained cannonballs can take apart a regiment, like... a knife through butter. (Charles looks away) Are you not well, Your Highness?
We have the Neapolitan fever.
(nods) Perhaps battle should wait, then- until his full health returns. Or, perhaps he should trace his gracious path home- to fair France. (turns and rides back inside the gates)
Do I give the signal, my Liege?
Do I look like a fool, General?!
No, my Liege. (pause)
We ride on, past.
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