University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV

A room in the Castle of Sant' Angelo.
The Lord Cardinals Segovia and Michele, Don Michelotto.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Where is the Duke?

MICHELOTTO.
With Messer Leonardo,
Learning the secret of an engine needing
A fortune for its efficacy. Where,
My lord Martino, is his Holiness?

CARDINAL MICHELE.
Gone with his cousin, it may be to join
Duke Valentino.

MICHELOTTO.
Coming hither
We had encountered.

CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Search the armoury.
[Exit Michelotto.
We live and breathe for armaments, for choice
Of this Condottiere or another
To lead them. In two days the Duke will march.
Then news and letters, or discourse of these,
Will fill our ears and fill the Vatican.
His Holiness is chafing, and on fire
With all the wishes of Duke Cesare.
He laughs; but sometimes clouds:
—Comes to the Treasury, then leaves the door
Unopened, and the wrinkles of his face
Take seed of thoughts and teem.

Enter the Lord Cardinal Orsini.
CARDINAL ORSINI.
He is gone below . . .
Gone to the buried rooms where young Astorre,
Faënza's lord, for now a twelvemonth past,
Lies captive.
Have you seen the catapult?
It terrorises by its fashion. Come!

[The Cardinals pass out. After a few moments the Lord Alexander VI. and the Lord Francesco Borgia enter together.
ALEXANDER.
Would he were in the Tiber!
A child so fresh and vigorous, a lad
As fair as Alexander, and a fame
As crescent. If we shut him up in marble,
A statue, we were justified: his body
Is of the ageless sculptures.

CARDINAL BORGIA.
Cousin,
You should not seek the prison-cells below.

ALEXANDER.
Our Lord looked on the Spirits shut in darkness:
Scarce He remitted sentence, but His face
Melted the iron; there was Paradise
And fragrance with His breathing.
This Astorre ....
Curse his fell jailor—triple murderer!

CARDINAL BORGIA.
Nay, in defence ....

ALEXANDER.
Of his ambition, of his majesty ....
O Tiber, but you do not heave; your current
Flows smooth!
And I, should not I pardon sin?
Here am I bleeding for his great offences,
With love not strong enough to snatch their load,
And fling them from my sight.

CARDINAL BORGIA.
You have absolved him, Father,
By your great power.

ALEXANDER.
Francesco,
Shall I absolve him with chained hands that tremble
Playing their gest of benison in Hell?
I will look up and curse him where he stands
Among the gods ....
Cousin, there is a succour
I drink of, as St. Bernard drank the breast
Stooped to him in his ecstasy. Our Lady
Keeps me in adoration .... But this Power
That bows us to his ends, as resolute
And cold as growing winter, is a god.

Re-enter Michelotto.
Ah, Lucifer—his creature Michelotto!
I hate these dun, blue eyes:
This executioner, with trains of ghosts
And drops of gore behind him for a trail.

MICHELOTTO.
Your Holiness,
Will you be private with his Excellence?

ALEXANDER.
Cousin, retire!
[Exit Cardinal Borgia.
We are in privacy.
[Michelotto bows and retires. The Pope seats himself.
'Tis Camerino first to be besieged ....
Ah, and the secret spring upon Urbino—
My leopard!—that must come to me as news!
Enter Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna.
Cesare, you have plighted oath of freedom
To that fair boy below.

[Cesare smiles and lifts his shoulders.
CESARE.
The hour is portioned mine.
Of my demand you listen, Holiness.
[He throws his black velvet cloak at the Pope's feet and lying down props his head against his father's knees.
Aut Cesar,
Aut Nihil! There is danger
From Fortune in this new campaign. My Captains,
The cursed Condottieri,
Are plotting to betray me. Holy Father,
Between us, you and me, there must be action
Of policy as ductile and as cool
As ever was concerted.

ALEXANDER.
True! With France
Incessantly adroit I must secure
Continuance of her aid ....
Danger and treason?
To you, my mystic Angel, treachery?
You take my heart out ....
Mary, Queen of Angels,
Protect our arms, protect my son!
And you—?

CESARE.
[Suddenly on his knees, close to his father's ear.
These mercenaries—Baglioni,
Vitelli, the Orsini, in one grave
Shall sink entrammelled .... Do they know me yet? . . .
And their injurious arms be drawn of sting,
Their troops unweaponed.

ALEXANDER.
Ah!

CESARE.
I shall be slow in this:
You must not press my schemes.
Then I shall muster
Another army, fresh and of my land,
My own Romagnole shepherds from their fells.
These people of the slopes of Apennine
Sing me and weave my rule into their thews—
My Dragon's teeth, my arms of Italy!

ALEXANDER.
And these Romagnole shepherds are my flock;
A spiritual army and a power
To keep you safe.
This combat pleases me;
A conflict in the air—wit against craft!

[Cesare has sunk down again by his father's knee, his eyes lost in dream. Alexander draws his face backward and gazes at him: Cesare smiles languidly.
CESARE.
I have learnt all the Romans and the Grecians
Have taught of armies, of a prince's justice.
Both France and Spain will seek my armaments
To join my powers with theirs.
[Raising himself.]
In this campaign
[Still kneeling, he fixes the Pope with his eyes.
You have your own campaign to wage in peace,
Campaign of death. When I shall give you warning,
Seize the Orsini left in Rome, imprison
Lord Giambattista in the Borgia Tower;
His coffers and proprietorships embrace
Armies and succours.
That great pearl is his,
The cardinal, benign, soft pearl.

ALEXANDER.
Aurora,
The whiteness of its orb!

CESARE.
And he will die.
Aut nihil!

ALEXANDER.
[With a slight shudder.]
Ah! ... Send letters every day.

CESARE.
[Stretching out his hand and taking up a paper lying on the ground.
What is this parchment?

ALEXANDER.
You have read it,
They told me. 'Tis the libel from Taranto
Sent to Savelli.
Christ, we are a kindred!
Carnage and rapine, perfidy ....

CESARE.
Why mince it?
Assassination, incest!

[Rising from the ground with clenched hands.
ALEXANDER.
But the Latin!
The dulcitude of apophthegm, the style!
What sap in all this rankness. Cesare,
I laughed an hour, applauded with wet eyes—
Literae humaniores—so the salt
Of the strong farce compelled me.
Do you stoop
To anger? Consul Julius Cesar laughed
When choice Catullus spat an epigram,
And dined him that same evening.

CESARE.
Ho, but this poisoned insult
Is danger such as that I have to charm
Out of my army into sepulchre.
The scribblers—fah! the mercenary pens—
Shall have their lesson in good manners: silence
Laid on slit tongue and mutilated hand.

ALEXANDER.
You are too young!

CESARE.
Lampoons
Debase our currency.

ALEXANDER.
Hoo, hoo! [Reading.]
“The New Mahomet,
Antichrist”—with his treasure lumped in jewels
A little Duchess wears. Ha, ha!

CESARE.
Plague me no more! You shall find all grown still.
Nascitur magnus ordo ....
But to achieve my work! Italian Vergil,
How much to do, how much! ... I must have time,
Have time before me, a wide path,
A silent; I must have my soldiery,
Sons of the sheepfold, of the vineyard: time
And patience and no noise, no sleep, no hastening,
No languor. This new order is my will;
It is beautiful.
Guard deep my plot, my secret.
We breathe combined?

ALEXANDER.
[Nodding.]
Letters?

CESARE.
[Kissing the Pope's hand.]
Each instant
I need your counsel or may do you good,
Sending good news.

ALEXANDER.
What of that lad below?

CESARE.
[With an amused laugh.]
I shall not take him back to his Faënza.
[Exit.
[His voice outside.]
Don Michelotto!

ALEXANDER.
[Calling.]
Cousin!
[As Cardinal Borgia re-enters.
Quick! quick, Francesco; I am ready.
Give me your escort to the Vatican.
Francesco,
I knew the lad was doomed. God rest his soul!