CESARE.
As once in Rome; and the Eternal City
Safe from her foes.
ALEXANDER.
You overwhelm me....
But you shall go to Naples,
And not Ascanio.
CESARE.
ALEXANDER.
Come to my heart.
CESARE.
blesses him. Cesare passes out.
ALEXANDER.
ACT II
SCENE I
Rome: the Piazza Navona.
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!
DJEM.
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!
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.
CESARE.
You find me beautiful? While the Piazza is still empty....
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.
Enter the Lord Cardinal Ippolito d’Este and Princess Sancia of Squillace. Cesare lightly greets the Princess, but bows profoundly to the Cardinal.
SANCIA.
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.
Sancia.
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.
DJEM.
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!
followed by Djem.
A ROMAN PEASANT WOMAN.
Who is it, Virgilia?
VOICES.
—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.
Off, gentles, you do not know me.
VOICES.
A FAR-OFF VOICE.
—Hidalgo!
—Moor!
—Infidel!
—Where is your cut-throat?
A BOY.
OTHER VOICES.
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.
VOICES.
—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.
AN ONION-SELLER.
NOTARY.
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.
To take them to thy raging breast;
And let the monster-bearing Bull be slain,
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!
A MELON-SELLER.
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.
[To Djem, pointing to the sellers of melons, peaches, grapes, and almonds, who clamour round.
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.
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.
SANCIA.
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.
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.
Is bowing low—salute him. By his side
The Princess Sancia.
VANOZZA.
DJEM.
[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.
This pearl is for the merchant-men and not
For any private owner in the world:
She must not walk with mothers.
CESARE.
You can convert a woman in a trice
To any worship, if you worship her.
DJEM.
The crescent moon. I have seen that in the church.
LUCREZIA.
DJEM.
VANOZZA.
CESARE.
To own your son?
VANOZZA.
You are drest as a Turk.
CESARE.
VANOZZA.
And your own brother....
SANCIA.
Madonna de’ Catanei, I condole.
LUCREZIA.
[To Vanozza.] This noble Turkish Captain
Is brother to the Sultan: Cesare
Instructs him in our Church’s mysteries.
DJEM.
A good Church!
CESARE.
You are not quite yourself.
Give me your blessing....
Here is the sacred spot.
To the dark shrines and weep!
Mother!
VANOZZA
CESARE.
For the last time while I am Cardinal!
Hither, sweet boon-fellow!
LUCREZIA.
CESARE.
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.
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.
—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.
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.
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.
CARDINAL BORGIA.
Both eloquently and without offence
Ere this dispute grew hot, His Blessedness
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.
Rich benefices; I resign them all.
DON GARCILASO.
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
He would forswear his pledges to his God.
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.
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.
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.
There, my Lord Cardinals, the word is just.
I am plotting for my patron, for my sole,
My unique benefactor.
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).
DON GARCILASO.
Is one of them, and he is kept in bonds
By God’s divine discretion.
CARDINAL BORGIA.
DON GARCILASO.
Have dropped down tortoises on shining pates.
Look to your safety!
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Our Samson of his martial strength: Delilah,
And not the Lord, put tonsure on that head.
CARDINAL OF LISBON.
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.
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.
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
If still he live in blasphemy. I plead,
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.
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.