 | Borgia |  |
SCENE IV
The French Court at Chinon.King Louis XII. and the Lord Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere (afterwards Pope Julius II.)
LOUIS.
César de France!
This gold-haired bastard, with his dubious eyes
And sullen majesty, each day more splendid
In silks and gold, more sullen every hour
Behind his patient smile .... Mon Dieu, mon Dieu
How I have toiled to wed him, and content
The Pope, who has contented
My happiness, divorcing my sad wife,
And joining to my crown my Breton Queen—
How I have toiled! If César wants a crown,
Then in Carlotta he espoused the claim:
But Naples and his daughter would not listen.
GIULIANO.
He wants a crown!
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Monseigneur Jules as you a triple crown—
Son of Ligurian peasants!
GIULIANO.
Ay,
Of Italy's own soil. But as the vines
Breed flavour by the sod, Liguria
Creates in me survivance to ascend
The Throne my uncle Sixtus made august,
Holding each force ingenerate in man
Executive, building as Titans build.
Only Rodrigo Borgia's Spanish gold
Has kept me unachieved, to bear the sorrow
Of Destiny's elect that wait their star:
There is prepotency in such. This bastard
Tears through his day—a comet—to his fall.
LOUIS.
O Seigneur Dieu!
What bombast and vain glory in his coming.
The Kings of Fez or Ethiopia
Climb out of fewer jewels: our street-gazers
Have scarcely drawn their breath since he passed by,
The little Duke we titled Valentinois!
Yet, by all saints, he loads the air with sway
Of such duplicity and blandishment,
He puts such grace about magnificence,
Such a cold and heat about his speech—I, Louis
Of France, have promised
Soldiers to win him land, my niece to marry.
The papers all are signed. Acquaint the Pontiff,
With largest swell of triumph, Charlotte D'Albret
Of the blood royal is his César's bride.
Cor meum—so he names this slip of his!
And he has been in fury like the Bull
Of his escutcheon at the scarlet waving
Of royal-hearted, contumacious Naples.
Felicitate our weary guest. The lady
Shall meet him in your presence. Saint Denys,
This unfrocked bastard of a priest, what order,
Or what precedence notes him, even his birth
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One day to set my face against his prayer!
[Exit King Louis.
GIULIANO.
God grant that to Pope Julius! Domine,
Exaudi me, Pater omnipotens!
I hate these Borgia! At their corner-stone,
Where lie their votive gifts of blood and gold
To Fortune, I will shake them—though, in exile,
I serve them for a while, to please this monarch
Whose voice can triple-crown.
Enter Duke Cesare de Valentinois.
Illustrious,
I give you joy—a bridegroom, formerly
A Cardinal—much joy!
CESARE.
Thanks! Are campaigns of war
As tedious as these contracts? Naples first . . .
Naples will rue her part.
GIULIANO.
And then old D'Albret.
CESARE.
His clutch on ducats and on documents!
My lord, you have reported . . .
GIULIANO.
That the King hangs his wrist upon your shoulder,
That you have won all hearts, all company,
And now a bride is won—the Fleur-de-Luce.
CESARE.
More! I have royal pledge
Of aid to raise an army that will conquer
The Castles of Romagna for the Church.
GIULIANO.
I give you joy, seeing you never yet
Have formed a line of battle, grouped your pieces . . .
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Did Mercury have lessons for the lyre,
Or Hercules in wrestling? Were they not born
Each to his art's perfection?
GIULIANO.
Rarely spoken!
Re-enter King Louis with Mademoiselle Charlotte d'Albert.
LOUIS.
Mon Duc de Valentinois,
I bring our Dian's youngest nymph, our Queen's
Sixteen-year maiden. Grow acquainted! Lotta,
You will be well contented with this bridegroom,
As young as he is handsome.
[Cesare kisses her hand and leads her to a couch, sitting by her.
CESARE.
Madame, we are wedded,
A maytime couple, in two days.
Lord Giuliano, tell his Holiness:
Do not delay your letters.
LOUIS.
Come with me and write them,
Monseigneur Jules.
[They withdraw, leaving Cesare and Charlotte d'Albret together. Cesare remains passive: he holds a golden ball of perfume, snuffs, and plays with it.
CESARE.
So is the world my bauble ....
CHARLOTTE.
How sweet the fragrance!
CESARE.
Do not touch it, child!
Now, to be plain, I hear you pleaded hard
That I should be your bridegroom. Have you courage
To mate this dreaded Cesar?
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Since Carlotta
Refuses you ....
[Cesare starts up.
If you will have the truth,
As among royal princes, I am chosen
To wed you by the King and by my father.
CESARE.
[Letting his hand fall softly on her.
Princess, this is a colloquy of love.
CHARLOTTE.
[Lifting the hand and kissing it.
Oh, then, lord César, then I take this hand;
Then—you are mine.
CESARE.
[In a murmur, looking away.]
I shall have lawful heirs.
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