Will she be wed again, again revive
As the seasons alternate from cold to hot,
With a great patience till the years be spent?
As the seasons alternate from cold to hot,
With a great patience till the years be spent?
CRISTOFERO.
Don Federico, she will never wed
Save as her father’s policy decrees;
She is a sainted daughter.
Save as her father’s policy decrees;
She is a sainted daughter.
DON FEDERICO.
And a sister—
How would you rate her there?
How would you rate her there?
CRISTOFERO.
It is the Duke himself
That banished her: he could not tolerate
The tears he caused to flow. If you would serve her,
Let those in Rome about His Holiness
Be taught she languishes for Rome; effect
Her swift recall. I will provide you taste
Sweetness of her sweet gratitude. I have served her
Through many bitter days and found her sweetness
As the perfume of her patience.
That banished her: he could not tolerate
The tears he caused to flow. If you would serve her,
Let those in Rome about His Holiness
Be taught she languishes for Rome; effect
Her swift recall. I will provide you taste
Sweetness of her sweet gratitude. I have served her
Through many bitter days and found her sweetness
As the perfume of her patience.
Enter Donna Lucrezia.
DON FEDERICO.
[After a profound obeisance.] But in the name of your whole escort, sovereign,
If we can aid——
If we can aid——
[Lucrezia looks down on him and remains dumb.
CRISTOFERO.
[To Don Federico.] Receive our sovereign’s thanks.
[Exit Don Federico.
LUCREZIA.
There are so many letters.
So many letters that I cannot write.
My poor Cristofero,
We meet this way together every morning;
I cannot write; I cannot sign my name.
It startles me to see my name....
Put by your papers.
So many letters that I cannot write.
My poor Cristofero,
We meet this way together every morning;
I cannot write; I cannot sign my name.
It startles me to see my name....
Put by your papers.
[Cristofero lays manuscripts into drawers.
But there is an action:
Write to the Cardinal San Severini
That he may have new prayers, new prayers—all day
Said in the monasteries on account
Of the great sorrow I have had to bear.
Write to the Cardinal San Severini
That he may have new prayers, new prayers—all day
Said in the monasteries on account
Of the great sorrow I have had to bear.
[Laying her hand on Cristofero.
Provide that Vincent take
The gold I gave him to the Cardinal,
That a great requiem be solemnised
For the Prince Duke my husband—for his soul.
The glory of the saints play over him
And mingle him among them in their bliss!
I cannot bear my shadowy court of folk
That make no feast, that speak in low-toned voices,
And yet are raising up no prayers to Heaven
To draw down peace on him. There must be peace;
And I must lay my sorrow down to rest
Soft and for ever as I laid my dead.
The gold I gave him to the Cardinal,
That a great requiem be solemnised
For the Prince Duke my husband—for his soul.
The glory of the saints play over him
And mingle him among them in their bliss!
I cannot bear my shadowy court of folk
That make no feast, that speak in low-toned voices,
And yet are raising up no prayers to Heaven
To draw down peace on him. There must be peace;
And I must lay my sorrow down to rest
Soft and for ever as I laid my dead.
[Cristofero begins to write; Lucrezia looks from the window.
CRISTOFERO.
None, Excellency—yet I would convey
News of your health, of the young Prince’s health,
If it should please you, to his Holiness.
News of your health, of the young Prince’s health,
If it should please you, to his Holiness.
LUCREZIA.
Nay, we must not be forward. Posts will come
To Nepi, if at Nepi I abide....
To Nepi, if at Nepi I abide....
Enter Donna Hieronyma Borgia with little Don Rodrigo. Donna Lucrezia runs to her.
Give me the child.
HIERONYMA.
Fie, he will set you weeping!
LUCREZIA.
[Throwing back her widow’s veil. While he smiles? Bambino,
How thou wilt charm thy grand-dad.
Up and down,
Then up again—ha, ha!
How thou wilt charm thy grand-dad.
Up and down,
Then up again—ha, ha!
HIERONYMA.
The child is growing.
LUCREZIA.
Is it possible to grow—away from Rome?
[She sets Rodrigo on a table before her.
Hieronyma, see the small, beating feet!
This babe will dance before he learn to walk.
This babe will dance before he learn to walk.
HIERONYMA.
His mother’s babe!
LUCREZIA.
HIERONYMA.
Gently, kinswoman,
The child is here in safety.
The child is here in safety.
LUCREZIA.
From what foe? In safety?
The child is mine.... He will protect the child.
[Dancing Rodrigo.] Pat, pat—bare toes!
Cristofero, your Prince
Is clad as quaintly as a traveller
In haste, and seeking refuge. Write to Vincent
That he send quickly stuffs and broideries;
Write for the little coat,
Punctured with gold, I wrought him.
The child is mine.... He will protect the child.
[Dancing Rodrigo.] Pat, pat—bare toes!
Cristofero, your Prince
Is clad as quaintly as a traveller
In haste, and seeking refuge. Write to Vincent
That he send quickly stuffs and broideries;
Write for the little coat,
Punctured with gold, I wrought him.
HIERONYMA.
Not the gold one;
Our Prince wears mourning.
Our Prince wears mourning.
A Servant enters: he confers apart with Cristofero and goes out.
LUCREZIA.
Babe, what we must wear!
But I shall make your garments, one by one,
Even till you grow a man.
He snatches pearls!
I love their slide about my throat—nay, Roble,
Their touch is silkier than a baby’s thumb.
Fie, little cricket!
But I shall make your garments, one by one,
Even till you grow a man.
He snatches pearls!
I love their slide about my throat—nay, Roble,
Their touch is silkier than a baby’s thumb.
Fie, little cricket!
CRISTOFERO.
Donna!—
LUCREZIA.
[Turning.] Posts from Rome?
You have tidings?
You have tidings?
CRISTOFERO.
No, Madonna....
LUCREZIA.
CRISTOFERO.
Duke Valentino
Is here, is at the doors.
Is here, is at the doors.
LUCREZIA.
I have not seen....
CRISTOFERO.
None ever sees, Madonna: from the ground
His army springs.
His army springs.
LUCREZIA.
[Standing quietly and wringing her hands.
And his commands?
CRISTOFERO.
To bid farewell.
Madonna, he is busy,
His one thought of his conquests. But an instant,
Give him an instant’s audience and God speed.
Madonna, he is busy,
His one thought of his conquests. But an instant,
Give him an instant’s audience and God speed.
LUCREZIA.
Where is he?
CRISTOFERO.
In soft converse with Capello.
LUCREZIA.
And whither—?
CRISTOFERO.
Sweet mistress, ask him whither; that will make
Matter of speech between you. Ask him whither.
Matter of speech between you. Ask him whither.
LUCREZIA.
I cannot see him! If he come, he comes
As the thunder that one cannot bear, or as
The earthquake that one suffers.
As the thunder that one cannot bear, or as
The earthquake that one suffers.
CRISTOFERO.
He was most tender
You should not be disturbed.
You should not be disturbed.
[Hieronyma is taking the sleepy child away; Lucrezia motions it is to remain.
LUCREZIA.
[To Hieronyma.] But I will mind the child.
[Cristofero goes out; Hieronyma draws back; Lucrezia lays Rodrigo to sleep on a cushion and remains by him.
Enter Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna. He is dressed in black, rain-streaked velvet, and a coat of fine mail; his belt and sword are gold; from the black beretta in his hand a white, rain-drenched feather sweeps to the ground. He is followed by Don Michelotto Corella, Monsignore Gaspare Torella, Messer Agapito de Amalia and the Cavaliere Vincenzo Calmeta.
CESARE.
Your benediction
Upon our arms and our diplomacy!
Upon our arms and our diplomacy!
[Lucrezia lifts her eyes and salutes his Captains and trains.
We start for Pesaro. None in the army
Has learnt that secret. We are here in conclave.
I go to conquer Pesaro. Giovanni
De Sforza has made havoc of your fame—
In tongue and hand
He shall be rendered impotent.
[Drawing closer]. For you
I fight, Lucrezia: you burned so hot
For vengeance of that enemy. I marked
The rage enkindled in your very substance,
As it must be when women are traduced.
Lucrece, I am no more a Cardinal;
I am a soldier with an army, such
As princes covet, and my first assault
Will be on Pesaro.
Are you a corpse,
A sentinel beside the child? You stand
So solid and so simple, like a block
Of marble that is dragged into a room
Long as its beauty pleases, and dragged forth,
If it can take no lustre from our moods.
Has learnt that secret. We are here in conclave.
I go to conquer Pesaro. Giovanni
De Sforza has made havoc of your fame—
In tongue and hand
He shall be rendered impotent.
[Drawing closer]. For you
I fight, Lucrezia: you burned so hot
For vengeance of that enemy. I marked
The rage enkindled in your very substance,
As it must be when women are traduced.
Lucrece, I am no more a Cardinal;
I am a soldier with an army, such
As princes covet, and my first assault
Will be on Pesaro.
Are you a corpse,
A sentinel beside the child? You stand
So solid and so simple, like a block
Of marble that is dragged into a room
Long as its beauty pleases, and dragged forth,
If it can take no lustre from our moods.
LUCREZIA.
[Moving a little forward.] There is my lord Torella, always faithful;
Agapito, who loves you—I commend
The Duke to you, to you....
[Turning back.] The child awakens!
Agapito, who loves you—I commend
The Duke to you, to you....
[Turning back.] The child awakens!
[Cesare lifts Rodrigo, who resists.
He will not ... but he must.
[She shudders as Cesare kisses the child and gives it to her.
... At Pesaro
You will find my lute; I remember where I left it—
In the fourth chamber: you will find my books;
Take care of them. Farewell....
You will find my lute; I remember where I left it—
In the fourth chamber: you will find my books;
Take care of them. Farewell....
CESARE.
A rivederla!
The lady here would haunt us. Will you fear,
Michelotto, you, a pacing ghost?
You have laid many such!
[To his cortege.] I led you here
That you might look on her, and Pesaro
Fall without aid of cannon. Ha, a fool!
The lady here would haunt us. Will you fear,
Michelotto, you, a pacing ghost?
You have laid many such!
[To his cortege.] I led you here
That you might look on her, and Pesaro
Fall without aid of cannon. Ha, a fool!
[He laughs and turns on his heel.
LUCREZIA.
[Looking after him wistfully and addressing Calmeta.
Your lord may be a king—I have dreamed it thus—
I would your lord should be a king....
Dear captains,
And soldiers, and the poet ... give him glory.
I would your lord should be a king....
Dear captains,
And soldiers, and the poet ... give him glory.
CALMETA.
But we would fight for you.
LUCREZIA.
Then give him glory.
CESARE.
[Half turning.] I am ashamed a poet should behold you!
Cavaliere, she was in our thoughts
A statue of fair Victory, a winged
And silent creature that creates the air
She flees along....
Turn from her, she will damp
The stoutest hearts—a weather to discourage
An army from the field!
[Taking up a fold of Lucrezia’s veil.] In widow’s weeds—
For my assassin! These are widow’s weeds,
Are they not? They displease me; they deform.
Cavaliere, she was in our thoughts
A statue of fair Victory, a winged
And silent creature that creates the air
She flees along....
Turn from her, she will damp
The stoutest hearts—a weather to discourage
An army from the field!
[Taking up a fold of Lucrezia’s veil.] In widow’s weeds—
For my assassin! These are widow’s weeds,
Are they not? They displease me; they deform.
LUCREZIA.
[In a low, firm voice, while she trembles.
They will remain upon me the full time;
Their darkness on me my whole life till death.
Their darkness on me my whole life till death.
CESARE.
Your future is irrelevant. Till death?
But nothing matters then. [Addressing his cortege.
To Pesaro!
But nothing matters then. [Addressing his cortege.
To Pesaro!
[Turning again to Lucrezia.
You look a lady fit to nurse the wounds
Of men who fight for other women’s love.
Of men who fight for other women’s love.
[He coldly touches her hand—his followers bowing low to her, move aside as he passes to the door: there he steps back and surveys Lucrezia, who is shaken with agitation, then, smiling maliciously, he goes out.
LUCREZIA.
Demon!
[She weeps bitterly.] ... I am a toy
In hands that play their game of rivalry
Over the stream of death.
O child!
[She weeps bitterly.] ... I am a toy
In hands that play their game of rivalry
Over the stream of death.
O child!
[She crushes Rodrigo to her breast.
SCENE VII
The Hills of Romagna. Sheepfolds and Shepherds; Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna lying down in the midst of them.
SHEPHERD.
AN OLD SHEPHERD.
Signore, I am happy, being blind
To sit in the sun: I feel you are the sun.
To sit in the sun: I feel you are the sun.
A YOUNG SHEPHERD.
Lord Duke, you are our shepherd—
The reason this, that we forget our flocks,
And yet our flocks graze placidly and seek
The shadow and the stream as they were led.
The reason this, that we forget our flocks,
And yet our flocks graze placidly and seek
The shadow and the stream as they were led.
A FATHER.
You are our king; you have danced with us—our maidens
Consent to any yoke, for by-and-by
They will bear children you will train in arms.
Consent to any yoke, for by-and-by
They will bear children you will train in arms.
TWO SHEPHERDS.
[Speaking together.] We are your kingdom, and we worship you.
You have made us as a flock.
You have made us as a flock.
A YOUNG GOAT-HERD.
[With a flute.] You are secret
As the god Pan was secret to the folds.
Lord Cesare, we love you.
As the god Pan was secret to the folds.
Lord Cesare, we love you.
CESARE.
[Touching the lad’s flute.] And the flute.
[The Lad bursts into tears; one by him, his companion, says:
SHEPHERD.
He cannot sing the kings: it is in battle
When we hiss down in rage to die for them
Our blood runs music.
When we hiss down in rage to die for them
Our blood runs music.
CESARE.
You shall die in battle.
ALL THE SHEPHERDS.
CESARE.
You are my chosen warriors.
A CROWD OF SHEPHERDS.
We are your shepherds, we must stay at home;
We cannot leave our flocks.
We cannot leave our flocks.
CESARE.
You are Romagna,
You are my people.
You are my people.
OLD SHEPHERD.
We are his people: we are Italy.
He consecrates us too; he loves the valleys
Where we rear up our lambs and sing our loves.
He consecrates us too; he loves the valleys
Where we rear up our lambs and sing our loves.
[They all gather round as if longing for some outbreak of their enthusiasm.
What shall we do? Beat on our castanets,
Fall on our knees, bring tribute?... But our prince
Has infinite treasure.
Fall on our knees, bring tribute?... But our prince
Has infinite treasure.
CESARE.
You shall keep my castles.
You are my garrisons; while you defend them
I shall rest quiet, all Romagna mine. [Rising.
You are my garrisons; while you defend them
I shall rest quiet, all Romagna mine. [Rising.
THE FLUTE-BOY.
You will not go from us?
CESARE.
First, I command a song.
[He sits down again, expectant. The Boy sobs; then, fixing his eyes on the Duke, pauses, and after a few moments sings out shrilly.
THE FLUTE-BOY.
The great lord Cesar Julius
Crossed the Rubicon—
The army was great,
It passed in state:
And the host was gone.
Crossed the Rubicon—
The army was great,
It passed in state:
And the host was gone.
There was none to see
That mighty lord;
The light on his face,
The light on his sword,
—And the history.
That mighty lord;
The light on his face,
The light on his sword,
—And the history.
But a child on the bank
Of the Rubicon,
On his knees he sank,
He stooped and drank,
For his heart was faint that his lord was gone.
Of the Rubicon,
On his knees he sank,
He stooped and drank,
For his heart was faint that his lord was gone.
[The Shepherds all weep.
CESARE.
[Embracing the boy.] A master!—he shall sing you all I am.
And now I pass to Rome, without farewell,
For I am dwelling here and in your midst,
And with you through all ages, in your music,
Your sorrows, with the shadows on the hills,
So close to you, a presence in your hearts.
O my Romagna, there is no farewell! [Exit.
And now I pass to Rome, without farewell,
For I am dwelling here and in your midst,
And with you through all ages, in your music,
Your sorrows, with the shadows on the hills,
So close to you, a presence in your hearts.
O my Romagna, there is no farewell! [Exit.
A SHEPHERD.
He has slipped away: I knew he was a god.
Boy, are you stricken? You should look up proudly.
Boy, are you stricken? You should look up proudly.
THE BOY.
[Taking up his flute and looking after Cesare.
ACT IV
SCENE I
The Vatican: a Loggia.
Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Aragon is seated between her Maids of Honour, Donna Angela Borgia and Donna Catilena de Valence, while her Maid Clarice pours wine on her long hair.
LUCREZIA.
My head aches.
CLARICE.
Soon her Excellence
Will feel relief.
Will feel relief.
ANGELA.
You look a wave-drenched siren
In those long folds of hair cloyed with the honey
By which the lees of the white wine cling close.
The sun is brilliant!
In those long folds of hair cloyed with the honey
By which the lees of the white wine cling close.
The sun is brilliant!
CATILENA.
And it was kindly done
To save us freckles by the grace of hats
Worn in the presence. Ah, sweet Pope,
Until his Holiness returns to-day
Venus is Sovereign of the Church, its princes
Her laughing hierophants, the Sacred College
Her Loves, her Doves, her Swallows, what you will,
All twittering of her till the air is crazy,
And every breeze a gossip.
To save us freckles by the grace of hats
Worn in the presence. Ah, sweet Pope,
Until his Holiness returns to-day
Venus is Sovereign of the Church, its princes
Her laughing hierophants, the Sacred College
Her Loves, her Doves, her Swallows, what you will,
All twittering of her till the air is crazy,
And every breeze a gossip.
LUCREZIA.
Hush!
A pretty jest—
But when it thundered yesterday I sobbed,
And headache like a terror hung on me
All the night long.... I am a daughter
Guarding her father’s house—the Universe:
I am no Pope, and, though the Cardinals
Laugh gallantly or slyly, though I laugh
At all the salt and spice of travesty,
Yet this obedience to my father’s will
Has turned my prayers to stone.
Dear girls,
Here at the toilet let me be a woman,
Whose handmaid forehead the triregno’s weight
Burthens to faintness.
Clarice, did you bruise
The celandine and greater cleaver’s madder
The full time Messer Giambattista Porta
Ordains?
A pretty jest—
But when it thundered yesterday I sobbed,
And headache like a terror hung on me
All the night long.... I am a daughter
Guarding her father’s house—the Universe:
I am no Pope, and, though the Cardinals
Laugh gallantly or slyly, though I laugh
At all the salt and spice of travesty,
Yet this obedience to my father’s will
Has turned my prayers to stone.
Dear girls,
Here at the toilet let me be a woman,
Whose handmaid forehead the triregno’s weight
Burthens to faintness.
Clarice, did you bruise
The celandine and greater cleaver’s madder
The full time Messer Giambattista Porta
Ordains?
CLARICE.
Before you climbed up to the sun,
The roots were bruised and mixed with cummin-oil,
The boxwood slivers and the saffron, Donna.
The roots were bruised and mixed with cummin-oil,
The boxwood slivers and the saffron, Donna.
LUCREZIA.
Then lay our compound on....
The Envoy from Ferrara cannot enter,
Nor my two Cardinal Secretaries, until
You draw my hair out through the crownless hat,
And spread it like a halo on the brim.
The Envoy from Ferrara cannot enter,
Nor my two Cardinal Secretaries, until
You draw my hair out through the crownless hat,
And spread it like a halo on the brim.
[Clarice dyes her golden hair deeper.
ANGELA.
There is a whisper that the Duke was seen,
Masked, at dead midnight....
Masked, at dead midnight....
LUCREZIA.
[Starting.] He will keep his chamber;
He sleeps by day. I were ashamed
To play to him the Pope of Christendom;
I could not play it—I should flow no laughter.
Haste, Clarice, haste, I am longing
For Messer Saracini and his news
Of when I shall be married.
Angela
How long, how long I wait!
A woman is a prisoner till a husband
Unlock her to her aim. When I am giddy
With dancing for my father, I recall
What Messer Saracini tells me often
Of the quiet, ordered court and the proud pomp
Of the old Este castle.... Don Alfonso,
So full of occupation with his cannon,
Artillery as brilliant as my brother’s;
But he himself in careless trim, as sons
Of an old princely house may dare to be.
Clarice, my tresses wide as sun-rays!
[Her hair is spread over a frame.] Bid
The Chamberlain bring Messer Saracini. [Exit Clarice.
He sleeps by day. I were ashamed
To play to him the Pope of Christendom;
I could not play it—I should flow no laughter.
Haste, Clarice, haste, I am longing
For Messer Saracini and his news
Of when I shall be married.
Angela
How long, how long I wait!
A woman is a prisoner till a husband
Unlock her to her aim. When I am giddy
With dancing for my father, I recall
What Messer Saracini tells me often
Of the quiet, ordered court and the proud pomp
Of the old Este castle.... Don Alfonso,
So full of occupation with his cannon,
Artillery as brilliant as my brother’s;
But he himself in careless trim, as sons
Of an old princely house may dare to be.
Clarice, my tresses wide as sun-rays!
[Her hair is spread over a frame.] Bid
The Chamberlain bring Messer Saracini. [Exit Clarice.
ANGELA.
A tent of yellow silk! I peep at you,
White, captive lady, Don Alfonso’s bride.
White, captive lady, Don Alfonso’s bride.
LUCREZIA.
Hush, hush!
Enter Messer Saracini with Clarice.
SARACINI.
Most humble greeting!
Duke Ercole informs your Excellence
This week the wedding-train forsakes Ferrara.
Duke Ercole informs your Excellence
This week the wedding-train forsakes Ferrara.
[The Maids of Honour clap their hands.
[Lucrezia springs up, snatching the hat-brim from her hair, which streams round her in dripping gold, as she childishly dances in a giddy circle.
[She pauses breathless and laughing before Messer Saracini.
LUCREZIA.
Ah, you bring joy!
And joy is in my feet as in the lyre-strings
The golden music.
Messer Saracini,
Is the great cortege for my capture started?
Oh, caught in dancing as a mermaiden,
And carried to Ferrara! Shortly
His Holiness will enter Rome, and shortly
The bells will clamour joy above our heads
Till the air dances, and the sunshine dances!
Girls, I will send my jester
Dressed in my newest clothes—the gold-scaled petticoat,
And crimson sleeves—to dance out to the people
My joy, and cry up Viva la Duchcessa,
Viva il Papa! Girls....
[To Saracini.] Oh, you are grave and full of wisdom’s smiling
Behind the gravity!
Clarice, my hat!
Tent me again for the Ambassador.
And joy is in my feet as in the lyre-strings
The golden music.
Messer Saracini,
Is the great cortege for my capture started?
Oh, caught in dancing as a mermaiden,
And carried to Ferrara! Shortly
His Holiness will enter Rome, and shortly
The bells will clamour joy above our heads
Till the air dances, and the sunshine dances!
Girls, I will send my jester
Dressed in my newest clothes—the gold-scaled petticoat,
And crimson sleeves—to dance out to the people
My joy, and cry up Viva la Duchcessa,
Viva il Papa! Girls....
[To Saracini.] Oh, you are grave and full of wisdom’s smiling
Behind the gravity!
Clarice, my hat!
Tent me again for the Ambassador.
[Clarice spreads her hair once more over the frame.
SARACINI.
Your future father, the Duke Ercole,
Sends me these pearls, his noble Duchess wore,
For Don Alfonso’s bride—ancestral pearls,
Not lately sea-washed, held by sovereign fingers
While years made generations.
Sends me these pearls, his noble Duchess wore,
For Don Alfonso’s bride—ancestral pearls,
Not lately sea-washed, held by sovereign fingers
While years made generations.
LUCREZIA.
[Lifting them.] Golden pearls!
SARACINI.
Duke Ercole informs your Excellence
His health revives.
His health revives.
LUCREZIA.
By letter
Commend me to his Excellence your Duke;
Say, she who is his daughter in her heart
Rejoices for his welfare.... I can nurse....
[To her Maids.] Tell Messer Saracini—night and day,
Alone, without repose, I tended
His Holiness when injured by the falling
Of a wind-toppled tower.
To-night
Be present at my ball.
Commend me to his Excellence your Duke;
Say, she who is his daughter in her heart
Rejoices for his welfare.... I can nurse....
[To her Maids.] Tell Messer Saracini—night and day,
Alone, without repose, I tended
His Holiness when injured by the falling
Of a wind-toppled tower.
To-night
Be present at my ball.
SARACINI.
Most flattered thanks.