 | Borgia |  |
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ACT II
SCENE I
Rome: the Piazza Novona.In the centre an antique statue stands, half-excavated, dressed up and painted to represent Proteus as an old man, one of his arms being turned into a dragon, one into a bull. This is the statue called Pasquino, and it flutters with epigrams and satires. To the left the door and steps of the Church of San Giacomo. To the right some houses: behind Pasquino, the Orsini Palace.
It is early—the market-people are beginning to arrive.
The Lord Cardinal Cesare Borgia, in the caftan and turban of a Turk, comes out of one of the houses with the Turkish Prince Djem. He stands and looks round from the centre of the Piazza, near Pasquino, and close to the adjacent stone-seat belonging to the old Stadium of Domitian.
CESARE.
Djem, Djem! let us stay here awhile. We must rest, for our
night has been a busy one. How pale the morning looks,
the girls unsunned, and the church chilly!
DJEM.
You do not look pale. You look very handsome, dressed
as a Turk.
CESARE.
I shall never look so handsome in this dress again; it
will never be so indecent. It is as if a wench were clad as
generalissimo—a Cardinal in these fair war-colours. The
very broideries have a courage in them. How bold they are!
How they glitter!
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You should fight with us in our army.
CESARE.
[Putting his arm round Djem's neck.]
You shall fight with
me in my army. We have borne such witness against ourselves,
and in places where the Cardinals might recount our misdoings,
that to-morrow in Consistory, when I make appeal,
they will release me from my vow.
DJEM.
Then you will be no longer Christian?
CESARE.
Look there, look at those yellow-garbed Marani. To save
life and limb they pay me monies—money for a journey to
France. Oh, look at them! They groan, and I am the
cause.
[With a gay laugh.]
I am a Christian.
[He sits on the
stone bench.]
By the Holy Keys, I could bury myself in these
trousers! They almost bury you, and your five daily meals
with the sugared water as preamble! What an elephant you
are, Djem, in your thirty thousand yards of linen! If I could
walk like you! It is the measured step of the elephant and
the beat of a Venetian chorus .... Then you have killed four
people—Ecco!
DJEM.
Ha, ha, ha!
CESARE.
Your eyes are half-closed, but I can see a bluish, glistening
sword .... Four victims!
[His hand touches his hill.
DJEM.
Will you take me into your church? They are staring at
you, these little girls. You go far.
CESARE.
[To a girl.]
My little love, your name?
GIRL.
Virgilia.
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You find me beautiful? While the Piazza is still empty ....
[He whirls her swiftly round Pasquino.
DJEM.
This may not be in the Piazza.
CESARE.
[Sitting down again.]
You shall see what may be in the
Church. Virgilia, you should kiss the Captain.
GIRL.
Not that one.
CESARE.
[Resting his elbows on his knees and extending his hands to
her.]
But who is the Captain?
GIRL.
You, you are the beautiful Captain.
CESARE.
And he has kissed you, remember!
GIRL.
I will bring you melons.
CESARE.
[To Virgilia's companion.]
What have you for your
soldier?
DJEM.
I will give you gems from this chain, little lady, if you will
so honour me. Ha, a kiss!
CESARE.
Bought, bought! You are shedding your great clusters.
Matutinal, fair lady?
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As you.
CESARE.
As I. Matutinal, fresh from the couch, and conducted by
divinity to your prayers!
SANCIA.
We do not come from Mass.
CESARE.
Lord Cardinal, I must deliver you from the burthen of
your sins.
[Drawing Sancia to his side.]
A Paynim to a
Paynim.
CARDINAL IPPOLITO.
I was conducting the fair Princess home from a masquerade.
CESARE.
Let her join the masqueraders.
Djem, is not the devil in her eyes? Your captives gleam
so when they are taken.
SANCIA.
You conduct me to Mass—is that your pleasure?
CESARE.
It is my pleasure to conduct you.
SANCIA.
An infidel, a bastard Paynim! The true breed does not
flaunt it so licentiously. Sultan Djem, are you curious in our
worship?
DJEM.
I am curious, Madonna, to watch you.
SANCIA.
I am veiled.
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Ah, you are not carnal enough to be veiled. Some of our
treasure is in caskets, some exposed. To some men it is the
knowledge of what is hidden that animates; to others—
SANCIA.
See, I unveil.
DJEM.
It is useless, Madonna; you are a spot ....
CESARE.
A spot, a temptress, a devil! How we gather our escort,
proceeding!
[He advances up the church steps with Sancia, followed by Djem.
A ROMAN PEASANT WOMAN.
Who is it, Virgilia?
VOICES.
It is one who rode a white horse.
—You would say a sumpter-mule, for the beast had packs.
—Who is it?
—It is an Infidel.
—Let us stone him!
—It is one with claws—it is the Devil.
—He walks with Princess Sancia.
—The Duke Giovanni did that.
SANCIA.
Do you hear? There is another brother. I am between
two, and attended.
CESARE.
Does the crowd still keep the legend?
Off, gentles, you do not know me.
VOICES.
What are you?
[He turns and fronts them.]
The Lord Cardinal!
—The Pope's son!
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You are the brother of a ghost.
[Two Spanish Gentlemen of Cesare's train pass and doff to him.
—Ugh, the Spaniards!
—Hidalgo!
—Moor!
—Infidel!
—Where is your cut-throat?
A BOY.
You are the Lord Cesar.
[Cesare goes up to the Boy and flings a chain round his neck.
OTHER VOICES.
More allegiance!
Cesar, Cesar!
[He scatters largesse.
CESARE.
Lord of the feast, lord of all revels, lord of Rome! Now
read Pasquino's libels—then follow to church.
[Exit into San Giacomo with Sancia and Djem.
VOICES.
But he has the face of a king.
—I picked a stone and threw—it grew like a millstone when he smiled at me.
—He has a face full of pardon.
—You shamed him with the ghost.
—La, la, la! He is shameless as a child. You may be ribald before him; he cannot for very innocence reprove.
—He bade us read Pasquino.
—Come!
—Messer Millini, you are a notary.
—Read!
—Catch these doves round Pasquino, and let us hear them coo.
—What part does he play?
NOTARY.
'Tis Proteus.
AN ONION-SELLER.
And what is Proteus?
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An old prophet who changes shape a hundred times and as
swiftly as our Pope. Now for the ways of the world, now
for the ways of God, and back to old ways once more!
A WOMAN.
Why are Pasquino's arms made creatures? See, a bull ....
NOTARY.
The arms of the Borgia. Our Pasquin loves to bait that
beast.
ANOTHER WOMAN.
And the snake?
NOTARY.
Hush! Am I Pasquino? The old prophet shall speak.
[He reads.
Whelm the Bull-calves, O vengeful Tiber, deign
To take them to thy raging breast;
And let the monster-bearing Bull be slain,
A victim to Infernal Jove addressed.
VOICES.
Oh, oh, oh!
A FRIAR.
Rome were favoured, indeed, if Tiber had his glut.
A GERMAN PILGRIM.
To think the Pope could promise such good things, and
not be able to hold for the space of half a year.
MERCHANT.
Alexander Sixtus! A quivering reed after the breeze,
valiant in power of recovery. Vivat diu bos, vivat Alexander!
WOMAN.
His sorrow was too great.
A BANKER.
There is festa about him. All Lent—that is not our Pope.
And there is festa about the Bull-calves ... Vituli . . .
the same race!
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Melons, ripe melons!
[The Notary turns and reads to the people behind Pasquino. Laughter and murmurs. The market begins. Cesare and Sancia come out together from the church. Djem lingers in the porch, which gradually fills with people from inside the church.
SANCIA.
But you will lose her, Sultan Cesare, you will lose her. I
am irresistible; and Lucrezia's husband is my brother.
CESARE.
You knew your destiny. You saved me the tedium of a
siege.
Djem, they are too forward. Can you not beat them off?
DJEM.
A nut, a nut! But, my gentle ones, a nut! A pistacchio
for these teeth. I bite the nut; then I bite you.
[He draws them, laughing, after him among the booths.
SANCIA.
You are bold—a Turk at mass! But I adore the purple.
Young Cardinal d'Este grows in my favour. He has eyes.
...
[In a sudden fawning voice.]
But his eyes are not silver,
they are brown, brown as Giovanni's.
CESARE.
Then to be extinguished.
SANCIA.
You will not hurt my little Cardinal—you will not? Ah,
Paynim, had you been chosen for me instead of Joffré!
CESARE.
You have chosen me instead of Joffré.
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My little Joffré is no more to me than the pet foal of the
stables. If His Holiness would grant divorce ....
CESARE.
What may not His Holiness grant at my suggestion!
Commend me by letter to your cousin Carlotta. I shall
meet her in France; persuade her to desire me, and your
Ippolito shall be safe. I would marry Naples, the rightful
line.
SANCIA.
For this you have flaunted me through the stone-staring
church! You Borgia! Always the trap in your mighty simpleness.
A gull!—I hate you.
[Djem sidles up.
DJEM.
Sweets, comfits of coriander. They are welcome?
Madonna, you pick!
[Sancia turns from Cesare.
[Donna Lucrezia Borgia d'Aragon, with Donna Vanozza de' Catanei, comes up the church-steps from the back. They are in mourning. The Spanish Gentlemen of Cesare's train approach. Instinctively Lucrezia lets her veil fall aside. Groups stand round her, admiringly.
LUCREZIA.
Behold!
[Advancing and patting the jewelled clasp on his shoulder.
O Cesare, this lovely guise!
You make me feel
A Princess and an Eastern Princess. Jewels
And dusk of jewels .... Oh, the snowy turban—
But I have never seen your eyes so blue.
You will despise me in this mourning garb,
Great Sultan.
[She half-closes her veil and looks round on the group.
Mother, but your son is bowing,
Is bowing low—salute him. By his side
The Princess Sancia.
VANOZZA.
I salute the Princess.
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[Advancing to Lucrezia.]
And I—
[They bow. As Lucrezia turns from her mother the Spaniards engage her in talk. Cesare stands a little aloof, his eyes on his mother.
DJEM.
[Returning to him.]
Don Cesar, but you comprehend
This pearl is for the merchant-men and not
For any private owner in the world:
She must not walk with mothers.
CESARE.
[Absently.]
Then convert her!
You can convert a woman in a trice
To any worship, if you worship her.
DJEM.
[Returning to Lucrezia.]
You are the moon,
The crescent moon. I have seen that in the church.
LUCREZIA.
You have seen the moon beneath our Lady's feet.
DJEM.
You are the Lady.
[Lucrezia laughs irrepressibly.
VANOZZA.
Come, Lucrece, away!
CESARE.
But have you, little mother, eyes too pious
To own your son?
VANOZZA.
I cannot understand.
You are drest as a Turk.
CESARE.
[Catching Djem's arm.]
This is my brother.
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Hush, hush! An infidel!
And your own brother ....
SANCIA.
Ah, so lately murdered!
Madonna de' Catanei, I condole.
LUCREZIA.
Peace, Sancia!
[To Vanozza.]
This noble Turkish Captain
Is brother to the Sultan: Cesare
Instructs him in our Church's mysteries.
DJEM.
I am instructed; it is excellent.
A good Church!
CESARE.
Mother, this is ill-behaved;
You are not quite yourself.
Give me your blessing ....
Here is the sacred spot.
[He bends and points to his tonsure in the midst of his turban.
—Then pass away
To the dark shrines and weep!
Mother!
VANOZZA.
[Shaking her head.]
I have no blessing. I refuse.
CESARE.
Then pass away to the dark shrines and weep!
[Vanozza goes slowly up the steps to the church.
Hither, Lucrezia, hither! Through the market
For the last time while I am Cardinal!
Hither, sweet boon-fellow!
LUCREZIA.
[Pulling at the fringe of his turban.]
But call her back.
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How fares His Holiness? You cannot dance
While there are ghostly footsteps on the stair;
But you can entertain him, make him laugh,
Till the sunny tears
Break out from all the creases of his eyes,
With the report of Djem before the shrines,
Cesare so profoundly heretic
He may no more be Cardinal.
LUCREZIA.
[Showing her small teeth as she smiles.]
Come on!
I will report with great fidelity.
I will report
Djem is a Christian and must be baptized.
But you! Now as I am your boon-fellow,
And for the laughter of His Holiness,
Let us make sport together .... Comfits, Djem!
[They plunge down into the market-place; the people gather and follow them like a train.
CONFUSED VOICES.
Vitula! She is for Tiber!
—Her new husband is there in the Vatican.
—Her last husband has told us ... it is not to be spoken.
—That Turk might be her bridegroom.
—We know he is her brother.
—Where is Don Alfonso?
—Berenice!
—Pasiphaë!
—And she laughs like the sky of the first year!
—Her throat—its pearls are but shadows.
—She is beautiful as the good Madonna.
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SCENE II
The Vatican; Sala dei Pontifici.A secret Consistory. The Lord Alexander VI. surrounded by his Cardinals in their purple. Don Garcilaso de la Vega, Spanish Ambassador, and other Ambassadors.
The Lord Cardinal Cesare Borgia is in the midst of an appeal to the Cardinals. The Pope is watching him, breathless.
CESARE.
...From my most early years
I have been secular. Not the least vocation
Is found in me, not in my secret thoughts,
Not in my will, not anywhere within me.
Therefore I sit apostate in your midst,
And therefore do you wrong; therefore I taint you,
Beside you, and no more your peer. Most humbly
I pray you to release me from my vow.
[There is a guttural murmur.
CARDINAL BORGIA.
As you have urged
Both eloquently and without offence
Ere this dispute grew hot, His Blessèdness
Constrained you in this matter: trust his wisdom.
So Heaven puts shackles on us in our youth,
That in our years we may walk free, Heaven's choice
Become our privilege.
CESARE.
I have received
Rich benefices; I resign them all.
DON GARCILASO.
For league with France, for favours from a foe,
For contract with your country's enemies.
Most hotly I protest.
[To the Cardinals.]
This renegade,
If you will yield him to such infamy,
Will still go on from false to false, forswearing
His worldly obligations, as through you
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The old alliances that prop this Chair—
Naples and Spain—are mute, and all the parley
With France. Take heed, take heed, my good lord Cardinals,
How you raise up a Princedom.
CESARE.
[Turning his back on Garcilaso.]
But more humbly
I make petition. How the world esteems me,
How slander rates me, when I am once unfrocked
I will answer to the world. You were my peers,
You are my judges, and from you I ask
Simply for mercy. Of too great indulgence.
I was admitted to your fair assemblage.
Open the door!
DON GARCILASO.
He blazes as a god.
Look, he is trembling! This humility
Is nothing. He who says he cannot play
The hypocrite is hypocrite in full,
And plotting for his patron.
CESARE.
That is very truth:
There, my Lord Cardinals, the word is just.
I am plotting for my patron, for my sole,
My unique benefactor.
[Raising and kissing the hem of the Pope's robe.
In this habit
I cannot serve His Holiness, whose creature
I am, and all my faculties acute,
Conjoined to serve him. I was born a soldier,
Beckoned to war, and pointed to redemption—
By steel, not holy water—of those lands
Bedevilled, once the Church's heritage.
'Tis as a Captain
I speak and of my nature. Give me freedom,
A little time ... the rest His Holiness
Shall publish to you of my wars and fortune.
CARDINAL LOPEZ
(Spanish).
Stay!
The Scriptures tell us there are many gods
And lords as many ....
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True! Lord Lucifer
Is one of them, and he is kept in bonds
By God's divine discretion.
CARDINAL BORGIA.
Gently!
DON GARCILASO.
Why set him up aloft—why, why? Such eagles
Have dropped down tortoises on shining pates.
Look to your safety!
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Yet we need not shear
Our Samson of his martial strength: Delilah,
And not the Lord, put tonsure on that head.
[The Pope laughs in his robe.
CARDINAL OF LISBON.
But all this jesting
Is little to the point, and the point is grave.
Release him—but we cannot. He is bound,
As we, by vows that irk and must be borne.
ALEXANDER.
[Softly.]
We do not speak it by the Holy Ghost,
But to your private ear and as a Spaniard;
Such benefices as are vacant now,
And such as shall be vacant by your leave,
We shall dispose ....
Ambassador, your monarch
Will own us friendly as we fill those Sees.
But, look, we tax too much this youthful patience!
Give your decision, as the Heavenly Dove
Whispers you, fluttering on from head to head.
[There is murmured discussion for awhile.
[Very softly.]
Thirty-five thousand florins are renounced,
Are in our hands for gift.
O mercy, mercy, mercy!
[Pointing to Cesare.]
Do you not know
Such guilt is clung about him he must perish
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I am pleading for his soul. Think, there are frocks in Hell;
Think of the scandal
His licence breeds if we deny him marriage:
While he is in the Church no reformation
Can spread against his check.
It is as if you all—each one of you—
Sealed with your sapphires his eternal ruin.
I forced him to this habit, and behold him!
He has never crooked the knee. Look there, my Lords,
Look there—Achilles peering from disguise ....
[Chuckling.]
Pardon, my Lords, as from his maiden dress.
Mine is the fault, the error. Shall he sulk
Useless among his tents?
CESARE.
[Kneeling.]
Before you
I plead for liberty—and, being released,
Whom should I serve save him who honours me,
Fixing on me his love, on me who have no merit,
Nor any place nor office in the world
Except to love him back?
[There is low discussion for a space. Don Garcilaso's voice is heard—“Bought; I protest, I will protest till death.” Cardinal Segovia advances.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Be comforted, O Blessèdness!
[To Cesare.]
Farewell, farewell,
Lord Cardinal; excel, as in our ranks you cannot.
Though often bitter to us in your mood,
Our skies will miss the lightning and the light
Without you, and our skies are colourless.
FRENCH AMBASSADOR.
The Duke of Valentinois—so my king
Greets you with patents disembarked to-day.
[The Cardinals and Ambassadors press round Cesare to congratulate; he smiles and bows. Then they break into groups and disperse.
45
[Between his teeth.]
Our obstacles
No more in our condition! Solitary!
No longer of a flock!
[He turns towards the Pope, who, unnoticed, has remained sitting on his throne, his hands stretched on his knees. Cesare steals quietly to his father.
I shall not leave you,
Not ever, not like Joffré, for a wife.
You shall not sit there looking lone—beside you,
Father, a power we have not measured yet,
That we shall measure. After all my wars,
And all my wars will be to draw you peace,
I shall return.
Kiss me.
ALEXANDER.
My heart,
No blessing—oh, a kiss!
SCENE III
A room in the Palace of Santa Maria in Porticu belonging to Donna Lucrezia Borgia d'Aragon. Donna Lucrezia sits at the head of a couch; Duke Cesare de Valentinois lies along it. They are both dressed in white satin, embroidered with gold and pearls.LUCREZIA.
You have seen the little mother?
CESARE.
To what end?
My mother?—No, Lucrezia.
LUCREZIA.
Then some farewell message
That I may comfort her. You start for France,
Cesare, and you leave us for a bride.
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What of our mother
In my alliance? Dead forgetfulness!
O Beauty, we are passing on our ways
Of policy; we must pass eagle-eyed,
For we have thrones to conquer.
Curse your Naples!
I would be wedded there.
LUCREZIA.
[Stroking his eye-brows.]
There I am wedded;
Therefore no curse.
CESARE.
[Suddenly turning and resting his elbow on her knee.
Lucrece, do you like this boy
We call your husband? Will he move your love;
Will you forget your godhead?
LUCREZIA.
Do not forget that you yourself have chosen
My husband for me.
CESARE.
'Tis but for a season.
We keep the paces of the gods, and all
Our actions are as theirs irrelevant
Beside ourselves, as we conceive ourselves.
Lucrezia, do but feel how thick my hair
Is brushing up beside the little tonsure!
There springs the Cesar. You have seen me amble
Beside Giovanni's stallion on my mule ....
And I am tempered through and through for war.
While others all day long were waging battle,
I have gone out to chase—oh, think of it!—
That I might follow some mean animal,
And catch the sound of Mars across the lake.
...Your fingers press me . . .
Why is their touch less soft?
LUCREZIA.
You so desired
What now you have.
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Giovanni ....
LUCREZIA.
Yes? [She waits but he says nothing.
Poor Giovanni! We have enemies.
CESARE.
We have. I silence yours. Are you all tears?
LUCREZIA.
You start for France—
Give me some charge. We part so suddenly . . .
His Holiness . . .
CESARE.
Be gamesome to our father
While I am absent, for he has a trick
Of dwindling down as Tiber on his bed,
Parched Tiber on his bed, when I withdraw.
We are his twin divinities, his Pollux,—
Since Castor is by chance thrust out—his Pollux,
And his most gracious Helen .... The rare smile,
The cypher smile! Your spells are on again.
Our father loves the dance—dance to fatigue.
LUCREZIA.
Pas seul; I cannot!
CESARE.
Then ....
[Springing up, he lightly takes her hand, and, looking into each other's eyes, they dance a slow measure.
[As they break off.]
This is the perfect spectacle, I own;
This swells the veins upon the father's brow.
But thou canst dance,
Lucrezia, to thyself as airily
As any creature of the air: dance thus.
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[Laughing.]
Oh, I will dance to giddiness, and yet
So slow it is the dance within a jewel,
And infinite movement in a prisoned spark—
The poets say. I heed them not.
CESARE.
How wisely!
LUCREZIA.
To you I dance.
CESARE.
Oh, when you speak
From the bosom of your silence .... Little, fair One,
But you are dull; I want you
To feel how great are the fresh lusts that haunt me,
And with complaisance take their part and smile.
[Lifting her hand to his breast and keeping it there.
Once and for ever—and you falter now!
LUCREZIA.
[Closing her eyes.]
You are no more a priest ....
CESARE.
O little, fair One,
That deadly languor
Of being a priest, cut off! You draw a cry,
An anguish from me. When I am a king
You are my counterpart, for evermore
A place beside me vacant, or your throne.
When I am Emperor, still I have chosen you
My counterpart. We played, a little flock,
Luis, Giovanni, Joffré—you and I
Were sole to one another.
LUCREZIA.
[Standing apart.]
We are sole.
[Cesare scrutinises her a long time, then says suddenly.
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Come, little Venus,
Come with me, see the cramoisie, the jewels
For Cesar's wedding triumph, for the Duke
Of Valentinois' progress. All my trappings
Are gold—d'or frizé: thirty thousand ducats
Lie in the damasks of my equipage.
I will put on my doublets—and you too
Shall try them on.
LUCREZIA.
Fie, fie!
[She hastily takes a veil and mask.
CESARE.
[Leading her to the door.]
What readiness!—
Answering, as a woman should, with answer
So even to my pleasure.
[A knock.
Ah, is that your husband?
Who is it knocks?
[He moves away and masks.
LUCREZIA.
But enter!
[The Lord Alexander VI. stands at the door.
CESARE.
[With a short laugh, unmasking.]
Oh, my father!
LUCREZIA.
But enter, enter, Holiness.
ALEXANDER.
[To Cesare, as he embraces Lucrezia.]
My heart,
Where do you draw the sweetheart? Cesare,
Stay—let her breathe the morning to me. Where
Would Cesare conduct you?
LUCREZIA.
Blessèd Father,
To show me all his jewelled taffetas
And cloth of gold, brocades and silver damasks.
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His! He will look a Phœbus
That rose and clomb in gold. But for my daughter—
Her eyes shall rest on veils enmeshed of light,
Darting their gems of parti-coloured flash
On stuffs dark-grained enough to set them free,
Or of a tissue white to blandish them.
You need not view his gauds, Lucrece.
It is immoment
For her to learn your worldly splendour, boy,
She, who is treasure.
Sweet, yet we will chuckle
At all the benefices in his stars
Of gems, his satins. Lead on, Cesare;
For we will go together, laugh together.
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
52
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 . . .
53
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.
SCENE V
A Hall of the Vatican with a Loggia at the back overlooking the Via just opened to Sant' Angelo, that is seen in the distance dressed with flags.In the Loggia several Cardinals, the Lords Francesco Borgia, Bartolomeo of Segovia, Giovanni Michele, Gianstefano Ferreri and Giambattista Orsini.
In the Hall are Donna Adriana Orsini, Donna Lucrezia Borgia d'Aragon, Donna Sancia Borgia, Donna Giulia Farnese and Don Alfonso, Prince Duke of Bisceglia.
DONNA ADRIANA.
Already looking out;
The balcony already crammed with watchers,
That strain beyond the roofs! But this impatience
Is almost genius in its quality.
Poor children, you were hurried from your beds.
55
As if there were a fire; and I am sleepy.
The early morning sleep, the beauty sleep
Dashed from our eyes! I am not half awake;
My eyes close, and I must to sleep again.
SANCIA.
You laggard, fie!
You will be out of favour.
GIULIA.
No!
I shall please him better if I am asleep.
He will not wake me,
His Holiness remembers I am young.
ALFONSO.
Young! If the young may take their fill of slumber—
LUCREZIA.
Come, I so softly stirred you—come, the dawn
Had not more softly coaxed you to awake.
ALFONSO.
I am sick and gaping.
LUCREZIA.
Hush!
SANCIA.
To wake in Naples, not this deadly Rome—
It is the air that kills!
ALFONSO.
A wish
I echo from my heart. We are roused as slaves,
As slaves put in subservient offices.
ADRIANA.
To ride with Prince Squillace by your side
After Duke Cesare is such distinction
You need not sulk from, prince.
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But we are dead afraid.
ADRIANA.
Ah, you have cause!
SANCIA.
What cause? Ippolito is fled.
LUCREZIA.
Ippolito—your beautiful Ippolito!
Poor little Sancia.
[Putting her arms round Alfonso.
But you must not fly—
Never again. Carissimo, I want you
For the bloom of every hour.
[The Lord Alexander VI. enters with Don Joffré Borgia. They rise and do him reverence. Lucrezia at once goes up to him.
ALEXANDER.
My daughter,
My child, you feel it ....
[Taking her hand and laying it on his heart.
As my heart is beating,
So beats your heart. There is within my substance
A change, a miracle. Too great a coming
And close descent of glory on my head!
So drooped
Our blessèd Lady at the infinite
Assault of the Almighty. In my bosom
How can I crush such agony of joy
As to receive a Prince,
A Governor, a Counsellor, all names
Of prophecy in one ....
ADRIANA.
Render to Cesar what is Cesar's—praise
For a most rare agility. The triumph
He wills is Pagan. He is young.
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Half the Romagna vanquished, Imola,
Forli with battered walls, and the Virago,
Fierce Catarina Sforza, like a Queen
Of Amazon, our Theseus' prisoner.
SANCIA.
For sixteen days she held his arms at bay.
ALEXANDER.
The seventeenth found her ringed around with fire.
LUCREZIA.
[Assuagingly.]
Dear father,
Think of our Cesar—he is coming home;
We shall embrace him!
No—you are crying? He will wear the collar
Of the king's gift. It makes me laugh for gladness.
Laugh too! I must not cry.
ALEXANDER.
[Crying and laughing as he clasps her.]
Alfonso, hopeless
The hope that ever you will sunder us!
She is eternal to me as my saints;
She saves me from all sorrow by her smile,
And she is ever smiling.
ALFONSO.
Then indeed her frowns
She must give me, and I shall take them if
She has not given them away before.
A husband should have something of his own
ALEXANDER.
Ho, child, we eat with varying appetite,
With varying zest: we savour as our palates
Extract the essences. I savour her.
La, la, I speak but as a fool, and gladly
You cannot suffer fools, not being wise.
58
[Kissing her neck.]
See, Father!
ALEXANDER.
Bacchus, she is blushing red!
My goblet full of pearls has left her marble.
Out on her, out! I must console myself!
[Pushing her to Alfonso and approaching Giulia.
Here is my idol, my carnality,
My rose of the flesh—how warm!
ADRIANA.
Lucrezia wrapped her thus.
[The Pope nods; then advances to the Loggia.
ALEXANDER.
Heigh, sentinels,
What recognition of this enemy
Who takes so easily our sacred streets,
For whom our women don their best attire?
[He shakes with laughter.
This is too scandalous! The balconies,
The heads in wreaths—the mothers and the daughters—
Fie! But the mothers do not move me.
[Turning to Giulia Farnese whom Sancia has awaked.
Giulia,
Look forth, my child. No, do not fix your gaze
On me, on what I look at.
GIULIA.
Holiness,
I fix my eyes on you that you may fix
Your eyes full on La Bella.
ALEXANDER.
Ha, ha! Morning dew
Salutes us with more dazzle than at eve.
Sleep has been kind.
GIULIA.
But I am drowsy still.
It is not well I should so early stir;
And I must sleep; I am so young.
59
A flower—
You please me well—a poppy-lidded flower!
Lord Cardinals,
With your lynx-eyes what do you track beyond
The open street?
CARDINAL MICHELE.
Standards, long lances
At Ponte Milvio.
ALEXANDER.
Ha! We shall be surprised:
This victor travels as he made retreat.
Come, Joffré, you have learnt your part: or is it
Alfonso plays the squire when he alights?
But start each one of you; in rivalry
Toil for the privilege.
ALFONSO.
To hold the stirrup!
I must decline: I cannot stoop so far.
ALEXANDER.
Prince of Squillace, you will hold the stirrup,
And in your company take Don Alfonso.
ALFONSO.
My wife forbids me leave her.
LUCREZIA.
Nay, Lucrezia
Has never said forbid. I yield my husband
For just this hour, knowing that all his hours,
And mine—even Cesare's—are but one glass
[Kissing the Pope's hand.
This hand may run the sands of at its pleasure.
Go, and be mannerly.
[Exeunt Don Joffré and Don Alfonso.
60
It seems
This bridegroom travels homeward with no bride.
Is he ashamed that, jewelled to the eyes,
He could not win my cousin's hand—Carlotta's?
[The Pope takes Sancia's fan from a table and tears it.
ALEXANDER.
His bride is Italy.
SANCIA.
I thought she was of France.
ALEXANDER.
He is of France. The fleur-de-luce is broidered
On his banners with our Bull. César de France,
Of Italy—the world. You may retire
From our presence: later we will give you rooms
Convenient in Sant' Angelo.
[Exit Sancia.
Fair ladies, Adriana,
I warn you that this Charlotte of Navarre
Is of no further interest than a city
Captured and left behind. The confidences ....
[Pinching Lucrezia's chin.
What have you heard, Discretion? Not the story ....
Enough!
We no more lose our Cesar for a wife,
Treasure, then we have lost you in a groom.
[Turning to the Cardinals.
Francesco, there is flutter in your robe,
You crane your neck. What of the cavalcade?
CARDINAL BORGIA.
We cannot see it yet.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
We can but see the flags
Beating the sky about Sant' Angelo.
CARDINAL MICHELE.
The cavalcade itself we shall not see,
Not till the cannon roar at its approach.
61
ALEXANDER.
Triumphs—St. Peter! . . .
In a bossy car,
Its base the wide spine of an elephant,
Rode Alexander into Babylon,
Invincible, my namesake and a god.
But not for me the riding, not the shouts,
Though mine the empire: it is Cesar, Cesar,
Who comes to Rome, and this is Cesar's triumph.
The chariots and the laurels and the helmets,
The antique cuirasses and helmets—laurels
Fresh from my gardens: we will act it all
Before the eye to-morrow, and translate
This modern triumph into classic glory,
As epitaphs go down in sounding Latin
To generations after. Cesar's Triumph!
Burcardus shall arrange the pomp, the order,
The circuit of the pageant. Alexander ... Cesar . . .
Cesar ....
[The cannon boom, all rush to the Loggia.
LUCREZIA.
[Running to her father as if for protection.
O Holiness, but he is coming now!
Oh!
ALEXANDER.
Out to the Loggia! Cease your clinging, child!
You check my haste, you flutter,
And check me.
[There is tumult of cannon, shouting and trumpet-blasts.
[In the Loggia.]
O my lords, where is he, where?
[Looking down.]
My God, what splendour! But . . .
LUCREZIA.
See, see, that simple rider
In black, the foil to all—you know him, father!
You see his collar of Saint Michel gleam;
His hair in golden circle—Cesare!
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A presence, oh, a presence! Recollect,
Daughter, we must receive him as the Pope
Receives his Captain-General. He is riding
As in a picture .... Help, Lord Cardinals, help me!
Is the Triregno set about my head
With nicety? This jewel flames aside,
That should be central. Shift my cope. There, there!
We will go in and take the throne.
LUCREZIA.
[Throwing a kiss down.]
He has alighted, father.
[The Pope, seated, waits, his Court round him.
ALEXANDER.
How this remoteness enervates! Come, come, come, come!
[The door is thrown open, Duke Cesare de Valentinois stands gravely on the threshold and makes a deep reverence. He is presented by Monsignore Burchard and followed by Prince Don Joffré and Prince Don Alfonso, the Generals of his staff, and the accompanying Cardinals and Ambassadors.
CESARE.
[With another deep reverence].
Your Holiness,
How can I thank you for the benefits
That even in absence weighed me with the blessing.
Of your great recollection.
ALEXANDER.
No, my son, the Church
Would give you thanks upon my lips for service
Of princely measure—service ....
[As Cesare bends to kiss the Pope's foot, Alexander, with a passionate gesture, catches him in his arms.
Cesare!
My son! Superb this beauty! Home at last,
Son of my bowels!
CESARE.
Holiness, your captain,
Your servant, and your creature.
63
[Close to his ear.]
No, no, no, my son
By nature, my dear flesh, my very substance
Gone out to victory! Rise! Rise! We must not
Beggar all welcomes other than our own.
Donna Lucrezia—see! ... Children!
[Prince Alfonso has come to her and holds her by the hand.
CESARE.
A loving couple!
Though one of them fled off awhile ago.
[To Alfonso.]
Lured back?
Lucrezia, do you welcome me?
Then welcome me with hands and lips.
[She drops Alfonso's hand and goes quickly up to Cesare.
[As he kisses her.]
Come home!
| Borgia | |