The tower can hold the bells.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
If strong enough.
VITTORIA.
If not, it can be strengthened.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
I see no bar nor drawback to this building, And on our homeward way, if it shall please you, We may together view the site.
VITTORIA.
I thank you.
I did not venture to request so much.
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Let us now go to the old walls you spake of, Vossignoria-- VITTORIA.
What, again, Maestro?
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Pardon me, Messer Claudio, if once more I use the ancient courtesies of speech.
I am too old to change.
III.
CARDINAL IPPOLITO.
A richly furnished apartment in the Palace of CARDINAL IPPOLITO.
Night.
JACOPO NARDI, an old man, alone.
NARDI.
I am bewildered.

These Numidian slaves, In strange attire; these endless ante-chambers; This lighted hall, with all its golden splendors, Pictures, and statues! Can this be the dwelling Of a disciple of that lowly Man Who had not where to lay his head?
These statues Are not of Saints; nor is this a Madonna, This lovely face, that with such tender eyes Looks down upon me from the painted canvas.
My heart begins to fail me.

What can he Who lives in boundless luxury at Rome Care for the imperilled liberties of Florence, Her people, her Republic?
Ah, the rich Feel not the pangs of banishment.

All doors Are open to them, and all hands extended, The poor alone are outcasts; they who risked All they possessed for liberty, and lost; And wander through the world without a friend, Sick, comfortless, distressed, unknown, uncared for.
Enter CARDINAL HIPPOLITO, in Spanish cloak and slouched hat.
IPPOLITO.
I pray you pardon me that I have kept you Waiting so long alone.
NARDI.
I wait to see The Cardinal.
IPPOLITO.
I am the Cardinal.
And you?
NARDI.
Jacopo Nardi.
IPPOLITO.
You are welcome I was expecting you.

Philippo Strozzi Had told me of your coming.
NARDI.
'T was his son That brought me to your door.
IPPOLITO.
Pray you, be seated.
You seem astonished at the garb I wear, But at my time of life, and with my habits, The petticoats of a Cardinal would be-- Troublesome; I could neither ride nor walk, Nor do a thousand things, if I were dressed Like an old dowager.