And I will dance with you.
SARACINI.
Day dance as well,
And bring me to that hour, sweet promiser! [Exit.
And bring me to that hour, sweet promiser! [Exit.
ANGELA.
Ha, ha!—the limed, old bird! Ha, ha!
Enter two Cardinals with despatches.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
A post, from Spain.
His Catholic Majesty writes threateningly
Of the French rape of Naples, Holy Father
Assisted through the Duke.
His Catholic Majesty writes threateningly
Of the French rape of Naples, Holy Father
Assisted through the Duke.
LUCREZIA.
My lord,
His Holiness returns this afternoon;
Await his wisdom.
[Holding out her hair.] See, is this a Pope?
His Holiness returns this afternoon;
Await his wisdom.
[Holding out her hair.] See, is this a Pope?
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Apollo!
LUCREZIA.
[Smiling.] Leave him to his spokes.
I will report you diligent, my lords.
I will report you diligent, my lords.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
CARDINAL MICHELE.
Your blessing!
Christ heal me!
Christ heal me!
[He lays his hand on his heart and goes out with Cardinal Segovia.
LUCREZIA.
Clarice, I am almost dozing!
This gold sun heaps me with such weight of gold.
Leave me and lay out the white satin robe—
No, for a warmth may rest upon my whiteness
A little space: I dance to-night in black,
With rubies of their violence grasping pearls,
With these ancestral drops of my old duchy.
Give me the verses on our Borgian Bull
That Porcius wrote—that little book. My eyes
Will rest on it half-closed and full of ease,
As sunny cats that stretch themselves to dream.
This gold sun heaps me with such weight of gold.
Leave me and lay out the white satin robe—
No, for a warmth may rest upon my whiteness
A little space: I dance to-night in black,
With rubies of their violence grasping pearls,
With these ancestral drops of my old duchy.
Give me the verses on our Borgian Bull
That Porcius wrote—that little book. My eyes
Will rest on it half-closed and full of ease,
As sunny cats that stretch themselves to dream.
[They go out.
How strange!
I feel as I should never grow a woman
Save at Ferrara, miles away from Rome.
Alfonso does not love me—every day
Humiliates my humbler race, is fearful
I shall be found in nature sinister
And fatal.... But I am not so, and therefore
He cannot find that I am anything
But just his young Lucrece, he soon will love,
As creatures sent for gifts, if they are gentle,
Are cherished in reception.... Oh!
I feel as I should never grow a woman
Save at Ferrara, miles away from Rome.
Alfonso does not love me—every day
Humiliates my humbler race, is fearful
I shall be found in nature sinister
And fatal.... But I am not so, and therefore
He cannot find that I am anything
But just his young Lucrece, he soon will love,
As creatures sent for gifts, if they are gentle,
Are cherished in reception.... Oh!
A masked figure glides in behind and she suddenly hears a voice.
VOICE.
Amanda!
LUCREZIA.
[To herself.] Castelian!... One, one voice....
CESARE.
Amanda?
LUCREZIA.
CESARE.
I cannot see:
Is there a smile behind these rays or no?
Is it dark weather, masks—or lip to lip?
Is there a smile behind these rays or no?
Is it dark weather, masks—or lip to lip?
LUCREZIA.
Your voice ... I lost my breath
To welcome you.
To welcome you.
CESARE.
Then to black hell my mask!
[He throws it away and kneels.
O Excellency of Ferrara, have I
Come here too late? Do all the Cupids
Hold over this white, little face the saffron
Of Hymen’s veil already? But I dare
A kiss beneath this gold, although Alfonso
Lose one sweet, nuptial joy....
Ah, the beretta
Must off in blaze of noon, if I would reach
Beneath your brim. [Holding her chin.] Return my happiness!
Come here too late? Do all the Cupids
Hold over this white, little face the saffron
Of Hymen’s veil already? But I dare
A kiss beneath this gold, although Alfonso
Lose one sweet, nuptial joy....
Ah, the beretta
Must off in blaze of noon, if I would reach
Beneath your brim. [Holding her chin.] Return my happiness!
[They kiss.
What strands of amber! O magnificence!
My blond is grey-ashamed to touch such yellow
Of crocus triumph. So it seems my sister
Will be a sovereign Duchess.
My blond is grey-ashamed to touch such yellow
Of crocus triumph. So it seems my sister
Will be a sovereign Duchess.
LUCREZIA.
Cesare,
This Este marriage—you would prosper it?
This Este marriage—you would prosper it?
CESARE.
My fortress!
Behind your towers Venice can rage and curse....
But there is joy beyond—we shall be neighbour-princes,
Romagna in your sight as you look out,
And you in reach if I should mount a horse.
Rome will be left, but not the Duke, your brother,
We cannot be divided.... Holiness!
Behind your towers Venice can rage and curse....
But there is joy beyond—we shall be neighbour-princes,
Romagna in your sight as you look out,
And you in reach if I should mount a horse.
Rome will be left, but not the Duke, your brother,
We cannot be divided.... Holiness!
LUCREZIA.
You must not, Cesare.... Had you been home
The Holy Father had not set me up....
It burns me! [She lifts her hands to her face.
The Holy Father had not set me up....
It burns me! [She lifts her hands to her face.
CESARE.
Curse the folly!
To make a jest of you—our secret! You
To be a Pope, a Governor—my secret
Of the veiled hours, of the sealed lips!
Our father can be garrulous in action
As well as tongue. Forget, forget, love-goddess,
All but the whelming sea-deep and your pearls!
To make a jest of you—our secret! You
To be a Pope, a Governor—my secret
Of the veiled hours, of the sealed lips!
Our father can be garrulous in action
As well as tongue. Forget, forget, love-goddess,
All but the whelming sea-deep and your pearls!
[He lifts the great Este necklace from her knee.
Cloud, cloud, be dumb, my moon—shine under cloud!
... Were letters sent from Spain?
... Were letters sent from Spain?
LUCREZIA.
I would not read them.
CESARE.
We will receive them presently and answer.
LUCREZIA.
I marvel
To see you up and in the morning sun.
To see you up and in the morning sun.
CESARE.
I waked—then heard you sat against the sun,
Fixed to one spot in glory.
Fixed to one spot in glory.
LUCREZIA.
And the wars?
CESARE.
—Gained me Faënza, Castel-Bolognese,
Corneto, Piombino: for the French
I entered Capua....
Corneto, Piombino: for the French
I entered Capua....
LUCREZIA.
CESARE.
Transcendently. Naples is crushed to earth,
Is gone, stamped French in bloodshed.
That vendetta
I look on, round and perfect—Naples,
That once eclipsed my moon and shot its arrow
Athwart my omen, Naples
Hurled down as throne and kingdom!
Is gone, stamped French in bloodshed.
That vendetta
I look on, round and perfect—Naples,
That once eclipsed my moon and shot its arrow
Athwart my omen, Naples
Hurled down as throne and kingdom!
LUCREZIA.
Cesare! My hand—
You grasp as if to break.... Your long, white hand!
You grasp as if to break.... Your long, white hand!
CESARE.
It hurts? Lucrece, I rule at Pesaro.
LUCREZIA.
Well, dear, you need not look so venomous.
You rule—where is it that you do not rule?
You rule—where is it that you do not rule?
[The cannon of Sant’ Angelo boom and the bells ring. Lucrezia and Cesare lean over the parapet together; he gently pushes back the straw brim round her forehead and kisses her many times; then he quickly descends.
SCENE II
The Vatican: Sala dei Pontifici.
A brilliant assembly. The Pope is enthroned: in front of him is a table on which is set a great jewel-case. To the left are the Cardinals; to the right Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna, in cloth of gold and pearls. Before the table Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Aragon, in cloth of gold and pearls, a black ribbon confining her hair, receives the nuptial ring of Don Alfonso d’Este from the hands of his brother the Lord Cardinal Ippolito d’Este.
IPPOLITO.
LUCREZIA.
With all my heart
I take this ring.
I take this ring.
[Cardinal Ippolito puts it on her finger.
ALEXANDER.
So now we are made an Este!
Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Este, come,
The Church enfolds thee dearly.
Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Este, come,
The Church enfolds thee dearly.
[He embraces her; then she stands by him at her brother’s side.
Lord Ippolito,
Open the nuptial gift, Duke Ercole’s.
Open the nuptial gift, Duke Ercole’s.
IPPOLITO.
Fair sister, white as moonlight for the stars,
Would in this prison all the constellations,
That dew the paths of heaven when Luna shines,
Were clustered for your taking! Fair,
How you would set with twisted gold Orion,
And all the planets from the rubious Mars
To emerald-dartling Mercury. O Fair,
We are not gods to homage our Elect,
To wrench the sky and rob its flowering lights;
But all that mines and rocks can make eternal
Of those pure rays that span mortality
Are at your feet.
Would in this prison all the constellations,
That dew the paths of heaven when Luna shines,
Were clustered for your taking! Fair,
How you would set with twisted gold Orion,
And all the planets from the rubious Mars
To emerald-dartling Mercury. O Fair,
We are not gods to homage our Elect,
To wrench the sky and rob its flowering lights;
But all that mines and rocks can make eternal
Of those pure rays that span mortality
Are at your feet.
ALEXANDER.
My lord Ippolito,
Your words with admirable beauty heighten
The preciousness of this most precious gift.
Your words with admirable beauty heighten
The preciousness of this most precious gift.
[Cardinal Ippolito and the Ferrarese Treasurer open the coffer.
Ha! The lips suck, and even upon the palate
These sparkles dance and twang. Oh, marvellous!
Inert we call this body, yet it seeks
The corners of the chamber as with song;
A voice strikes on our fibres. Cesare,
These rubies.... You are poor!
Collars! Who would not
Be captive to these links?
[Putting one on.] See, on the breast
This great rock-sapphire sullen!
Pearls—the pearls! the pearls!
Soft—ah, but soft. I smile, as old Tithonus
At the rainbow-paps of Dawn. This ring, a woman’s,
Can sit on my first joint to pipe its tale
Of shepherds in the showery grass. What joyance,
Heartiness as from cordial-glasses, drunk
By eyes and touch and spirit, in this treasure!
My lord, my lord!
You set resplendent eyes upon the Bride.
Ah, lord Ippolito! Serenely
She gives their posts of beauty to these jewels;
For her they strike and bleed, herself they honour,
For her they strike and bleed, herself they honour,
Their chief ally your gaze.
These sparkles dance and twang. Oh, marvellous!
Inert we call this body, yet it seeks
The corners of the chamber as with song;
A voice strikes on our fibres. Cesare,
These rubies.... You are poor!
Collars! Who would not
Be captive to these links?
[Putting one on.] See, on the breast
This great rock-sapphire sullen!
Pearls—the pearls! the pearls!
Soft—ah, but soft. I smile, as old Tithonus
At the rainbow-paps of Dawn. This ring, a woman’s,
Can sit on my first joint to pipe its tale
Of shepherds in the showery grass. What joyance,
Heartiness as from cordial-glasses, drunk
By eyes and touch and spirit, in this treasure!
My lord, my lord!
You set resplendent eyes upon the Bride.
Ah, lord Ippolito! Serenely
She gives their posts of beauty to these jewels;
For her they strike and bleed, herself they honour,
For her they strike and bleed, herself they honour,
Their chief ally your gaze.
[The Princes of Ferrara and the Cardinals make their presentations.
Gifts, gifts—more gifts!
The Church, the World munificent.
The Church, the World munificent.
[Lucrezia smiles and thanks the Princes and Cardinals
with deep inclinations.
with deep inclinations.
Burcardus,
Remove the magic table; in its room
We too must weave our magic.
Bring the sweetmeats!
A shower of pleasant hail in these warm bosoms;
Not golden rain of Jove, but feastful sugar....
Remove the magic table; in its room
We too must weave our magic.
Bring the sweetmeats!
A shower of pleasant hail in these warm bosoms;
Not golden rain of Jove, but feastful sugar....
[He throws confetti into the bodices of the ladies. Donna Giulia Farnese and some of the fairer among them pelt him back.
LUCREZIA.
[Softly sucking a sweetmeat.] My lord Ippolito, this crucifix,
And this, and this—your gifts ... they will know my hand
Close as the nuptial ring.
And this, and this—your gifts ... they will know my hand
Close as the nuptial ring.
IPPOLITO.
Fairest, and most devout!
ALEXANDER.
[Cesare bends close to Lucrezia and whispers in her ear. She turns white, then rose-red, with her eyes on the ground.
My prayer!
[Lucrezia lays her hand in Cesare’s.
CESARE.
[Laughing and bowing to the Pope.] The tambourines!
[They dance a slow Spanish dance: as they begin Lucrezia lifts her eyes to Cesare’s face, and, looking into each other’s eyes, they tread the measure.
ALEXANDER.
[Clapping and humming with delight.
More, more!
Could I but make these orbits everlasting,
God on the Earth had then His praise forever,
His music of the heavens.... My gold stars,
Each with its angel in a glory.
More!
Could I but make these orbits everlasting,
God on the Earth had then His praise forever,
His music of the heavens.... My gold stars,
Each with its angel in a glory.
More!
[The dance goes on to music and hand-clapping.
SCENE III
The Vatican: Sala dei Pontifici.
The Lord Alexander and Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Este. She is in a crimson travelling-dress, with hat and feather.
ALEXANDER.
And now we part!
LUCREZIA.
Dear Holiness, my Father....
ALEXANDER.
Ah, Child—Lucrezia! The pale eyes are rounding
To pearls, great precious pearls, that feed their orbs
Upon a sea of tears.... But you are young,
Scarce twenty-two, and, yonder in the north,
One half of you
Is now already at your sovereign home.
Listen, my little girl: be circumspect
Among the Este, blameless to their watching:
But with a gentle steadfastness of pride
Meet and overthrow their arrogance ... God keep you
From cold disdain or cruelty!
To pearls, great precious pearls, that feed their orbs
Upon a sea of tears.... But you are young,
Scarce twenty-two, and, yonder in the north,
One half of you
Is now already at your sovereign home.
Listen, my little girl: be circumspect
Among the Este, blameless to their watching:
But with a gentle steadfastness of pride
Meet and overthrow their arrogance ... God keep you
From cold disdain or cruelty!
LUCREZIA.
Father, my courage
Is sure for I have won my husband’s father:
His brothers too, though nobly formal still,
As fashion rules their manners, have kind faces,
An air that makes me brave.
You must not pine, dear father,
Nor look for me too often, nor remember
I am so far away.
Is sure for I have won my husband’s father:
His brothers too, though nobly formal still,
As fashion rules their manners, have kind faces,
An air that makes me brave.
You must not pine, dear father,
Nor look for me too often, nor remember
I am so far away.
ALEXANDER.
Nay, no caught breath!
Sobs will not help my Duchess home.
Ah, sweeting,
They do not do up at Ferrara there
As we in Rome: they live less joyously.
But you, a woman, will be sensitive
To all I stumble at the hinting of.
The peg you sing to must be set less high,
Less near Olympus. My bold horsewoman,
You must not tarry as with me to watch
The stallions worship Venus: those rich flames
Are out of mode for Don Alfonso’s wife....
Your feet will often weary for the dance—
You shake your head.... Well, then, a fruitful couch,
A sturdy race of princes be engendered
To comfort you! Lucrezia, O Lucrece,
The Vatican without you—the procession
Of gaudy midnights and no feather-footed,
Sweet daughter making grace, embroidering
The torchlight with her silver attitudes,
And floating flash of diamonds, till the dawn
Came to me from her swaying pearls, and eyes
Half-open in the languid Spanish dance!
Day after day my coffers will boil up
With pearl on pearl for you.... To-morrow morning
I shall drop in the largest of the East.
And, Duchess of Ferrara, anything
We can perform for you is done the moment
It is but a desire within your hope.
Sobs will not help my Duchess home.
Ah, sweeting,
They do not do up at Ferrara there
As we in Rome: they live less joyously.
But you, a woman, will be sensitive
To all I stumble at the hinting of.
The peg you sing to must be set less high,
Less near Olympus. My bold horsewoman,
You must not tarry as with me to watch
The stallions worship Venus: those rich flames
Are out of mode for Don Alfonso’s wife....
Your feet will often weary for the dance—
You shake your head.... Well, then, a fruitful couch,
A sturdy race of princes be engendered
To comfort you! Lucrezia, O Lucrece,
The Vatican without you—the procession
Of gaudy midnights and no feather-footed,
Sweet daughter making grace, embroidering
The torchlight with her silver attitudes,
And floating flash of diamonds, till the dawn
Came to me from her swaying pearls, and eyes
Half-open in the languid Spanish dance!
Day after day my coffers will boil up
With pearl on pearl for you.... To-morrow morning
I shall drop in the largest of the East.
And, Duchess of Ferrara, anything
We can perform for you is done the moment
It is but a desire within your hope.
LUCREZIA.
Dear Holiness, you whelm me with your love!
Take care for me, my father, of your health.
Cesare will be dutiful and anxious
To make your evenings merry—but so soon
Cesare will be from you at his wars.
Take care for me, my father, of your health.
Cesare will be dutiful and anxious
To make your evenings merry—but so soon
Cesare will be from you at his wars.
ALEXANDER.
And I be left a gray, old priest alone!
Well, I must bear my age and loneliness
As of the time of life.
If you would comfort me,
Daughter, in desolation—for already
The Vatican is chilling, growing hollow
Behind your cavalcade—then write to me
At every sleeping-place or tarrying-place
Along your way: and do not anger me
With negligence. Be diligent and careful,
As of your duty, to inform my thoughts
With each event that touches you. To-night
You rest at Castelnovo. Rest and eat!
Then out with pen and let the little hand,
Tired with the reins, yet for my foolish sake
Write me good-night, thy health, the courtesy
Shown to thee on thy way.
Well, I must bear my age and loneliness
As of the time of life.
If you would comfort me,
Daughter, in desolation—for already
The Vatican is chilling, growing hollow
Behind your cavalcade—then write to me
At every sleeping-place or tarrying-place
Along your way: and do not anger me
With negligence. Be diligent and careful,
As of your duty, to inform my thoughts
With each event that touches you. To-night
You rest at Castelnovo. Rest and eat!
Then out with pen and let the little hand,
Tired with the reins, yet for my foolish sake
Write me good-night, thy health, the courtesy
Shown to thee on thy way.
LUCREZIA.
Even beside my prayers
I set this duty.
I set this duty.
ALEXANDER.
Sweet, and most sweetly promised!
Oh, my Lucrezia, you will never know,
For Nature will not in her rule betray
Her elder secrets to young ears, how fondly
I love you in your fairness,
That was your mother’s lure about my soul....
Lucrece, your mother is both loyal and good:
Alfonso d’Este may acclaim your virtue,
If you are hers in worth as loveliness.
Oh, my Lucrezia, you will never know,
For Nature will not in her rule betray
Her elder secrets to young ears, how fondly
I love you in your fairness,
That was your mother’s lure about my soul....
Lucrece, your mother is both loyal and good:
Alfonso d’Este may acclaim your virtue,
If you are hers in worth as loveliness.
Enter Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna with little Don Rodrigo d’Aragon.
Cesare and your little son!
LUCREZIA.
[Clasping her child.] Rodrigo,
I leave you with your grandsire.... Ah, my feather!
You laugh to see it dancing. I will send you
Long feathers from the city where I dwell....
O father, let me kiss you, let me see
Your hand upon his head. I cannot stay!
I am no more a bride—rather a corse
To leave all this behind.
I leave you with your grandsire.... Ah, my feather!
You laugh to see it dancing. I will send you
Long feathers from the city where I dwell....
O father, let me kiss you, let me see
Your hand upon his head. I cannot stay!
I am no more a bride—rather a corse
To leave all this behind.
ALEXANDER.
There, there, there! Do not cry!
The child is sobbing, and my eyes ... White Fairy,
Enchantress, you are loved and you are wept
By generations: by your sire, his son,
And by your son.
The child is sobbing, and my eyes ... White Fairy,
Enchantress, you are loved and you are wept
By generations: by your sire, his son,
And by your son.
LUCREZIA.
Cesare does not weep.
ALEXANDER.
His eyes burn threateningly, his face is cold;
That is a warrior’s weeping.
Cesare,
We shall be dull as monks when she is gone.
To-night ... I am the Pontiff, you almost
A Cardinal again. To think one woman,
A little bride, with streaming hair, can set me
Alone upon St. Peter’s rock to weep!
Now guard thy health, pray ever to Madonna,
The glorious Virgin. Benedicite!
Into my arms once more! O Cesare,
What I have lost to found you as a Prince,
To wed her safe to sovereignty! My Este,
My own Lucrezia—
And the letter, child;
Do not forget.
That is a warrior’s weeping.
Cesare,
We shall be dull as monks when she is gone.
To-night ... I am the Pontiff, you almost
A Cardinal again. To think one woman,
A little bride, with streaming hair, can set me
Alone upon St. Peter’s rock to weep!
Now guard thy health, pray ever to Madonna,
The glorious Virgin. Benedicite!
Into my arms once more! O Cesare,
What I have lost to found you as a Prince,
To wed her safe to sovereignty! My Este,
My own Lucrezia—
And the letter, child;
Do not forget.
CESARE.
Come, come!
ALEXANDER.
Do not be ill;
Do not forget.
Do not forget.
[They part: Cesare leads her to the door.
CESARE.
[Suddenly still and turning.] One kiss, but not farewell—
One kiss here in the Vatican!
One kiss here in the Vatican!
ALEXANDER.
[Shaking his pastoral staff at Cesare.] O Traitor,
My temporal power would over-reach me thus?
The last kiss from the Vatican will float
Out from the window yonder where I watch
The last long arrow-streak of your array
Toward Castelnovo. It will be a kiss,
And fly like autumn cranes to Africa.
My temporal power would over-reach me thus?
The last kiss from the Vatican will float
Out from the window yonder where I watch
The last long arrow-streak of your array
Toward Castelnovo. It will be a kiss,
And fly like autumn cranes to Africa.
[Exeunt Cesare and Lucrezia.
Gone, gone!
Here gather all the Cardinals.
Here gather all the Cardinals.
The Sacred College enters.
Quick, to the window....
[Lifting Rodrigo.] Up, my little man,
And see your mother leave us.
Ha, how trim
She sits, beside her Cesare, how grand!
I shall take journey
In April to Ferrara.... What if never,
If never I should see her any more!...
My lord Antoniotto,
That is a sight Vergilian gods would praise!
[Lifting Rodrigo.] Up, my little man,
And see your mother leave us.
Ha, how trim
She sits, beside her Cesare, how grand!
I shall take journey
In April to Ferrara.... What if never,
If never I should see her any more!...
My lord Antoniotto,
That is a sight Vergilian gods would praise!
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?
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.
Duke Valentino.
MICHELOTTO.
Coming hither
We had encountered.
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.
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.
[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.
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.
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!
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.
CARDINAL BORGIA.
You have absolved him, Father,
By your great power.
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.
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.
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?
Will you be private with his Excellence?
ALEXANDER.
Cousin, retire! [Exit Cardinal Borgia.
We are in privacy.
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!
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.
To that fair boy below.