So God in silence
Contracts with San Michele. Die for me——
You were not such a fool! I choose who dies.
Fetch me your instruments—the steel, the rope.
Quick, and return! [Exit Michelotto.
I wait a thousand years!
Aha, Carlotta, little Sancia too!
Ay, and Lucrezia ... she can watch so much,
I doubt not she was watching when he shot:
She would not warn me—she has seen so much,
And never stirred in tongue or eye.... But listen!
Contracts with San Michele. Die for me——
You were not such a fool! I choose who dies.
Fetch me your instruments—the steel, the rope.
Quick, and return! [Exit Michelotto.
I wait a thousand years!
Aha, Carlotta, little Sancia too!
Ay, and Lucrezia ... she can watch so much,
I doubt not she was watching when he shot:
She would not warn me—she has seen so much,
And never stirred in tongue or eye.... But listen!
[He bends his ear toward the door.
I hear the cooing voice; she sings to him.
[Lucrezia’s voice is heard from the Borgia Tower.
Sweetest Mother,
Thy suit is won:
Flowers for thee,
Flowers for thy Son,
Flowers at thy knee
For the Trinity!
She is soothing him with little, airy notes,
Like the rustle of the leaves.
Thy suit is won:
Flowers for thee,
Flowers for thy Son,
Flowers at thy knee
For the Trinity!
She is soothing him with little, airy notes,
Like the rustle of the leaves.
[Re-enter Michelotto. Cesare opens his hands for the dagger and cord.
O Michelotto,
These jewels
Have never shone so bright—steel, steel, and necklets
Twisted and coiled so deftly round the throat
The breath heaves up—then plumb back to its void.
Conceal yourself.... I drag the women out....
These jewels
Have never shone so bright—steel, steel, and necklets
Twisted and coiled so deftly round the throat
The breath heaves up—then plumb back to its void.
Conceal yourself.... I drag the women out....
MICHELOTTO.
CESARE.
Myself I will be present if you palter,
Will watch his features crying for the air.
Swift, swift—— [He goes into the Borgia Tower.
Will watch his features crying for the air.
Swift, swift—— [He goes into the Borgia Tower.
MICHELOTTO.
His fangs drip blood!
But she shall not suspect.
To the dark with me.
But she shall not suspect.
To the dark with me.
[He thrusts the door wide open into the passage and hides behind it.
Duke Cesare re-enters, his right arm round Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Aragon, while his left hand grips Donna Sancia Borgia, Princess of Squillace. The door is fastened behind them by Michelotto.
SANCIA.
Loose, loose! It bites my wrist.
Why do you bring us here?
Why do you bring us here?
LUCREZIA.
You said that we must come.
SANCIA.
Let loose; loose, Cesare!
CESARE.
[To Lucrezia.] Sit there....
[To Sancia.] You writhing viper.
I fling you off!
[To Sancia.] You writhing viper.
I fling you off!
[He pushes her away. She is at the door, trying the handle.
LUCREZIA.
What is it?
CESARE.
What?—White eyes, who shot the arrow?
LUCREZIA.
Alfonso—
CESARE.
LUCREZIA.
[Stroking him.] Your brow, your cheeks, your hands.
No blood.... Alfonso—
No blood.... Alfonso—
CESARE.
Do you plead for him?
LUCREZIA.
You are safe....
CESARE.
You sang to him. Is that your triumph?
LUCREZIA.
That you were safe....
The little song.... I sang it to myself.
I sang.... [A cry is heard.
The little song.... I sang it to myself.
I sang.... [A cry is heard.
CESARE.
Fool Michelotto!
SANCIA.
[Breaking from the door, and crying to Lucrezia.
Can you not hear? Do you not understand?
Are you of flesh or stone? They are killing him,
As they killed Giovanni....
[To Cesare.] Murderer! For I know,
Ah, now I know you are his murderer.
You did the deed—you, you!
She can forgive a brother’s death: I cannot!
I am blood of Naples, and will be avenged.
Are you of flesh or stone? They are killing him,
As they killed Giovanni....
[To Cesare.] Murderer! For I know,
Ah, now I know you are his murderer.
You did the deed—you, you!
She can forgive a brother’s death: I cannot!
I am blood of Naples, and will be avenged.
LUCREZIA.
Alfonso! [She sits motionless.
SANCIA.
Ay, Alfonso! He is murdered.
I will be heard! [She beats on the door.
Lucrece, Lucrece! She could divorce one husband:
Oh, she can sever!... Cold as death her eyes
Beat on me. O Lucrezia, do you hear? [She mutters.
They are murdering my brother—he is murdered.
Now all is gone to silence.... [She sinks down in her sobs.
I will be heard! [She beats on the door.
Lucrece, Lucrece! She could divorce one husband:
Oh, she can sever!... Cold as death her eyes
Beat on me. O Lucrezia, do you hear? [She mutters.
They are murdering my brother—he is murdered.
Now all is gone to silence.... [She sinks down in her sobs.
CESARE.
[To Lucrezia.] Star, you fade!
[Lucrezia, who has been looking up into Cesare’s face, falls into a swoon.
Donna Angela Borgia and Donna Catilena de Valence rush in, pressing the bolt aside: there is blood on the skirt of one of them. Awed by Cesare’s aspect, they remain without speaking. Sancia springs through the open door with a cry.
[Cesare sways Lucrezia toward the Maids of Honour.
There, take her, Angela—she clings....
LUCREZIA.
[Coming to herself and looking round.] Alfonso?
CESARE.
Cesar ... but weep your tears, your destined tears.
[He goes toward the door.
LUCREZIA.
[Moving from Angela and following Cesare, with a cry.
Alfonso!
ANGELA.
Has she lost her wits?
CESARE.
[Arrested.] How wondrous
She is! And she is wailing for a ghost!
She is! And she is wailing for a ghost!
LUCREZIA.
[With the same cry.] Alfonso!
[He turns away as she almost touches him and quickly leaves her.
ANGELA.
[With a gesture after Cesare.] Gone!...
Look at her, look! She rises like a nymph
In a cloud of water—look!
Look at her, look! She rises like a nymph
In a cloud of water—look!
CATILENA.
LUCREZIA.
[Suddenly falling from her height full length on the ground.
Jesu miserere!
SCENE IV
The Stanze, Duke Cesare de Valentinois della Romagna’s new apartments in the Vatican.
The Lord Alexander VI. has penetrated into them and looks round.
ALEXANDER.
At last I have lodged him in the Vatican! But this is pleasure!... There is perfume in the rooms—the first scent of jasmine? No, but his balls of perfume ranged already in their order....
[Laughing as a two-year-old child crawls up to him from a tapestry.
Ah, ah, and the babe too!—Giovanni!... So
I named him, so, to speak once more the name.
I named him, so, to speak once more the name.
[The child reaches up to him.
Blue eyes! Come, come, no tears!
Angel, I cannot be your nurse, I cannot.
Angel, I cannot be your nurse, I cannot.
[He passes on, slipping a rosary into the child’s lap.
How he inhabits
The air he breathes ... no need of clothing here,
Embellishments and laces—all is Cesare,
His lusts, his pride, his loneliness....
The air he breathes ... no need of clothing here,
Embellishments and laces—all is Cesare,
His lusts, his pride, his loneliness....
[The Pope sits down and sighs twice or thrice heavily, drumming with his fingers on the table: then he catches sight of a design for Cesare’s new scutcheon. He speaks in gasps.
Aut Cesar—fie! Aut nihil! He is Cesar;
Duke of Romagna first,
My bastard!—presently
King of all Italy. Am I, indeed, his father?
But if I am not, Roman Jupiter
Stole to my couch and got him such a son
As the whole earth acclaims. More beautiful
He is growing day by day. We interact;
We are together, or, if separate—
He breeding armies and I breeding gold—
What colloquy at nightfall.... And submissive,
He is submissive toward me as Lucrece.
What children these have been to me!
Duke of Romagna first,
My bastard!—presently
King of all Italy. Am I, indeed, his father?
But if I am not, Roman Jupiter
Stole to my couch and got him such a son
As the whole earth acclaims. More beautiful
He is growing day by day. We interact;
We are together, or, if separate—
He breeding armies and I breeding gold—
What colloquy at nightfall.... And submissive,
He is submissive toward me as Lucrece.
What children these have been to me!
Enter Donna Fiammetta: she is a tall, perfectly fair young creature, of great dignity. She kneels.
Ah, Fiammetta, welcome!
Nay, ’tis your right, child.... Here I am intruder,
In the Lord Cesar’s absence. Take my blessing.
Nay, ’tis your right, child.... Here I am intruder,
In the Lord Cesar’s absence. Take my blessing.
FIAMMETTA.
[As she rises.] Lord Cesare bade me this hour ...
[The Child cries. Fiammetta, looking for consent to the Pope, lifts the little Prince in her arms.
ALEXANDER.
It is
The hour for worship. With discretion, child,
You soon will be the mistress of a king.
[Fiammetta winces.] Madonna!
How like, how like! You are good. Why should you blush?
You are good and honest ... and a strength of heart
Is in you to bear princes. You will suckle
One day a playmate for this royal child,
Infans Romanus!
The hour for worship. With discretion, child,
You soon will be the mistress of a king.
[Fiammetta winces.] Madonna!
How like, how like! You are good. Why should you blush?
You are good and honest ... and a strength of heart
Is in you to bear princes. You will suckle
One day a playmate for this royal child,
Infans Romanus!
FIAMMETTA.
[Looking round in terror.] The Lord Cesare
Bade me attend ...
Bade me attend ...
ALEXANDER.
Scared at the Vatican,
Seat of the gods, sweet child, and seat of Him
Whose first command is Multiply! These chambers
Are given to my son. But all these motley walls
We will have re-created—fading frescoes,
Of hands that moulder.... We will have your Cesar—
Nay, we will have yourself set on a throne,
Or rising ’mid the lilies ... not historic:
In history there is no art; and life
Is life and death, and never resurrection.
My fair Fiammetta, we will have you painted.
There is a prayer in your bright eyes—
Seat of the gods, sweet child, and seat of Him
Whose first command is Multiply! These chambers
Are given to my son. But all these motley walls
We will have re-created—fading frescoes,
Of hands that moulder.... We will have your Cesar—
Nay, we will have yourself set on a throne,
Or rising ’mid the lilies ... not historic:
In history there is no art; and life
Is life and death, and never resurrection.
My fair Fiammetta, we will have you painted.
There is a prayer in your bright eyes—
FIAMMETTA.
Lord Cesare ...
And represented as King Solomon.
And represented as King Solomon.
ALEXANDER.
[Patting her on the back.] Assuredly ... while David rests with God.
[The Pope continues rubbing the frescoes with his hands.
All new—
I will make all things new.
I will make all things new.
Cesare enters hurriedly and is already some distance in the room, when he sees the Pope, Fiammetta and the Child. He stops dead, and remains immovable. Under his eyes Fiammetta puts the Child down and goes out. The Child watches the Pope and Cesare round-eyed, then creeps to the curtains and plays with the heavy tassels. The Pope stands, with wrinkled forehead, uneasy.
CESARE.
[With a wide smile.] You know that Prince Alfonso has been killed?
ALEXANDER.
[Trembling.] Killed?
The boy was up and dressed, and felt his feet
For the first time to-day.... Why do you stand there
So overwhelming in your aspect, lofty
As you had won a fortress? On my soul,
And by the Holy Fisherman I swear,
You frighten me.... And I regret the lad—
A pretty, flaunting flower of pomegranate
Jerked from the bough....
The boy was up and dressed, and felt his feet
For the first time to-day.... Why do you stand there
So overwhelming in your aspect, lofty
As you had won a fortress? On my soul,
And by the Holy Fisherman I swear,
You frighten me.... And I regret the lad—
A pretty, flaunting flower of pomegranate
Jerked from the bough....
[Cesare remains immovable, muttering oaths between his teeth.
But we must cloak this death.
[Laying his hand on Cesare.] I will not listen; it is policy
In most things to be ignorant.... You, Cesare,
Must have the ordering of the funeral.
Poor lad! A restless creature, like a dog
That strays about your hearth, and may be here
To-morrow or be gone—Satan that wanders
The earth alone knows where.... But murdered!
I think I will not know; my ears refuse
All knowledge from you.... We must cloak this death
Among ourselves.
[Laying his hand on Cesare.] I will not listen; it is policy
In most things to be ignorant.... You, Cesare,
Must have the ordering of the funeral.
Poor lad! A restless creature, like a dog
That strays about your hearth, and may be here
To-morrow or be gone—Satan that wanders
The earth alone knows where.... But murdered!
I think I will not know; my ears refuse
All knowledge from you.... We must cloak this death
Among ourselves.
[The Pope turns away tottering.
CESARE.
We cannot:
For his physicians said he would not die,
But live, as pertinacious as a weed.
It cannot and it shall not be a secret
Why he was killed.
For his physicians said he would not die,
But live, as pertinacious as a weed.
It cannot and it shall not be a secret
Why he was killed.
ALEXANDER.
[Turning sharply back on Cesare.] By whom?
CESARE.
By me.
[Alexander covers his face. A strange sound, half-moan, half-sob, breaks from him. There is long silence; then the Pope looks at Cesare with a pale, aged face.
ALEXANDER.
The boy
Was young and fair; but scarcely crossed your path.
Was young and fair; but scarcely crossed your path.
CESARE.
His stealthy arrow did; he let it whizz
Across the garden as I trod the grass.
Such little splits of wood may in a moment
End years of ripening fame. A month ago
The hurried marble thundered down on you,
To-day an arrow swept my hair. Say, Holiness,
Would you prefer to have that lad of Naples
Teasing your moments with his fears and murmurs
Or me shot dead, our dead dreams under me?
Across the garden as I trod the grass.
Such little splits of wood may in a moment
End years of ripening fame. A month ago
The hurried marble thundered down on you,
To-day an arrow swept my hair. Say, Holiness,
Would you prefer to have that lad of Naples
Teasing your moments with his fears and murmurs
Or me shot dead, our dead dreams under me?
ALEXANDER.
My tawny Splendour, wherefore ask?
CESARE.
[Spreading his palms.] Then wherefore?
ALEXANDER.
CESARE.
I killed in self-defence?
ALEXANDER.
Son, that you killed....
Well, it is done!
Well, it is done!
Well, it is done!
Well, it is done!
CESARE.
And if your Holiness
Will deign to listen—do not let the tongue
Be running and returning like a wheel:
All gossip of my action,
If you refrain, will end within his grave.
Unless you speak there cannot be an echo.
Will deign to listen—do not let the tongue
Be running and returning like a wheel:
All gossip of my action,
If you refrain, will end within his grave.
Unless you speak there cannot be an echo.
ALEXANDER.
Ay, ay—die out—the gossip will die out;
Ay, ay, if you would have it so....
The vaults? For we must bury him in private.
Ay, ay, if you would have it so....
The vaults? For we must bury him in private.
CESARE.
[As he nods.] Without bell-ringing and a storm of dirges.
ALEXANDER.
Lucrece!
Ah, she will weep her eyes out: rain, rain, rain,
Above this broken flower, this bridegroom.
Ah, she will weep her eyes out: rain, rain, rain,
Above this broken flower, this bridegroom.
CESARE.
Banish her.
ALEXANDER.
I could not bear to see a lifelessness
Of sorrow in the dear one.
Of sorrow in the dear one.
CESARE.
ALEXANDER.
She shall spend her tears at Nepi,
At Nepi—my own gift to her—no exile!
She shall retire where she is Governor,
Attended and in honour. La, sweet child!
The iris-sprinkled side-locks, amber sheaves,
A widow’s! She, a dove of desert-waters,
A widow!
At Nepi—my own gift to her—no exile!
She shall retire where she is Governor,
Attended and in honour. La, sweet child!
The iris-sprinkled side-locks, amber sheaves,
A widow’s! She, a dove of desert-waters,
A widow!
CESARE.
Let her keep
Her dule ’mid dead volcanoes!
Her dule ’mid dead volcanoes!
[He catches up the child, tosses it, and tumbles it on a couch against a large piombo cat.
ALEXANDER.
[As if watching.] ... Figliuolo,
Luck is your Guardian Angel! Have you thought
Romagna needs protection against Venice,
Romagna that so soon will be your own?
The Estes of Ferrara ... could we mate
Lucrezia with the princely house! Ah, then, to northward
You were impregnable. The heir is named
Alfonso.... To a woman there is matter
Of comfort in a name. For poor Alfonso—
God rest his soul!—who now is lying dead,
Alfonso d’Este shall be sought for her.
Luck is your Guardian Angel! Have you thought
Romagna needs protection against Venice,
Romagna that so soon will be your own?
The Estes of Ferrara ... could we mate
Lucrezia with the princely house! Ah, then, to northward
You were impregnable. The heir is named
Alfonso.... To a woman there is matter
Of comfort in a name. For poor Alfonso—
God rest his soul!—who now is lying dead,
Alfonso d’Este shall be sought for her.
CESARE.
[Abruptly leaving his game with the child and animal.
Has Lord Gianstefano Ferreri yet
Paid down the sum due for his Cardinalate?
I want the money.
Paid down the sum due for his Cardinalate?
I want the money.
ALEXANDER.
[In a murmur.] Such a tiger-clutch
Upon our treasuries! Fio di putta,
Bastardo! ... More, more, more,
As I made gold for Mommus!
Upon our treasuries! Fio di putta,
Bastardo! ... More, more, more,
As I made gold for Mommus!
CESARE.
ALEXANDER.
[Passing his hand across his brow.] I am coining day and night and in my dreams:
I cannot.... I am bare
Of treasure, save these vestments that the Church
Casts on my poverty. I have no jewels,
No raiment, no reserve....
But Cardinal Lopez
Is fading every day.
I cannot.... I am bare
Of treasure, save these vestments that the Church
Casts on my poverty. I have no jewels,
No raiment, no reserve....
But Cardinal Lopez
Is fading every day.
CESARE.
I cannot wait.
ALEXANDER.
Pish! You shall have the wages. But last evening
You plained you needed more artillery,
And Messer Leonardo would be idle
Among the forts unless I furnished you—
Fate will: for Lopez dies.
These busy Cardinals
Build each a piece of honeycomb in mass
Sufficient.... Why, Michele, Giambattista
Orsini, and Ferrari
Have sweet within their cells for all Romagna.
Ah, we shall need
More than the harvest of the Jubilee,
A tithe, a fresh Crusade.... What else?
You plained you needed more artillery,
And Messer Leonardo would be idle
Among the forts unless I furnished you—
Fate will: for Lopez dies.
These busy Cardinals
Build each a piece of honeycomb in mass
Sufficient.... Why, Michele, Giambattista
Orsini, and Ferrari
Have sweet within their cells for all Romagna.
Ah, we shall need
More than the harvest of the Jubilee,
A tithe, a fresh Crusade.... What else?
CESARE.
[In a vibrating voice.] The King of France
Sanctions my new campaign. I kissed his envoy,
Lifting my mask off—father.
Sanctions my new campaign. I kissed his envoy,
Lifting my mask off—father.
ALEXANDER.
CESARE.
And seldom
Has France been so outwitted. Now you are laughing?
I curse them, to the very lees of laughter,
These dung-hill French, that I must fight beside.
—Ah, now your eye is caught by the escutcheon,
Our challenge!
Has France been so outwitted. Now you are laughing?
I curse them, to the very lees of laughter,
These dung-hill French, that I must fight beside.
—Ah, now your eye is caught by the escutcheon,
Our challenge!
ALEXANDER.
[Shaking his head.] Flagrant blazoning! Christ Jesus!
Yet if you are not Cesar—nihil, nihil!
Come with me to the treasury.
Yet if you are not Cesar—nihil, nihil!
Come with me to the treasury.
CESARE.
And silence,
Silence and secrecy about this death.
Silence and secrecy about this death.
ALEXANDER.
[Making a step back, as if from a gulf.] Cesare, but you sway me like your mother,
When she inhabited my will. Ah, God!
My Captain and my Gonfalonier
Suppling my nature like a mistress, fah!
Come with me.... Take the gold!
When she inhabited my will. Ah, God!
My Captain and my Gonfalonier
Suppling my nature like a mistress, fah!
Come with me.... Take the gold!
SCENE V.
Suor Lucia in a cave beneath the heights of Nepi. She is dressed as a penitent: before her is a crucifix.
SUOR LUCIA.
I would that I had kept it in my heart,
Even as that other secret. Christ’s dear wounds
Printed on me! And now the multitude
Would see the trace and crowd up to my cavern,
I do not want the impress any more:
I do not want the crowd,
Nor anything to happen any more.
Even as that other secret. Christ’s dear wounds
Printed on me! And now the multitude
Would see the trace and crowd up to my cavern,
I do not want the impress any more:
I do not want the crowd,
Nor anything to happen any more.
[Donna Lucrezia Borgia d’Aragon enters and bows low before her. She rises and makes salutation.
Most noble princess,
I pray you, by your sorrows, let me be.
I have no signs to show you.
I pray you, by your sorrows, let me be.
I have no signs to show you.
LUCREZIA.
Let me lay
My hands against your hands.
My hands against your hands.
SUOR LUCIA.
[Astonished.] Then you believe?
LUCREZIA.
And you will pray for me?
SUOR LUCIA.
The stigmata—
Would you receive them?
Would you receive them?
LUCREZIA.
I am with the lost.
Give me these hands,
And let me stroke them up and down.
This land
Of the Dies Irae, O this bitter land!
The hills
Heavy with crusted blood, the streams that hiss
So low, as if from pits of hell—this land!
Give me these hands,
And let me stroke them up and down.
This land
Of the Dies Irae, O this bitter land!
The hills
Heavy with crusted blood, the streams that hiss
So low, as if from pits of hell—this land!
SUOR LUCIA.
[Slowly watching her.] You would win pardon? Do not be afraid....
The Lord was there;
In purple and in darkness.
The Lord was there;
In purple and in darkness.
LUCREZIA.
Oh, I would feel the wounds!
[As kneeling, Lucrezia rests her head against Suor Lucia, a profound peace settles on her, and she falls asleep.
SUOR LUCIA.
[Lucrezia opens her eyes and smiles.
You smile: you have had dreams?
LUCREZIA.
[Rising.] No: I have rested, I have been asleep.
I am governor
Of this drear Nepi. Where you have found peace,
None shall disturb you; none shall take away
This peace, or question. I am Governor.
I am governor
Of this drear Nepi. Where you have found peace,
None shall disturb you; none shall take away
This peace, or question. I am Governor.
[She embraces Suor Lucia, and, still smiling, passes out.
SCENE VI
A room in the Castle of Nepi.
In front is a fireplace, flanked by two chests bearing the monograms of Don Alfonso and Donna Lucrezia. To the right is a narrow window beaten with rain. To the left, in a dark corner of the apartment, Donna Lucrezia’s Secretary Messer Cristofero stands by his desk before a pile of papers and documents. Don Federico Altieri, a young Roman gentleman of the Princess’s escort, leans against the desk.
DON FEDERICO.
But speak of her,
But give me leave to speak—perplexity
Is on us of her escort: we were bid
Accompany her as she were led to prison;
And in this Nepi that is hers we know
She is a captive—we would rescue her;
She is a victim—we would slay the tyrant.
Oh, she is like a girl, a younger sister,
Still shut up with her tutors, whose fair face
Climbs from a narrow casement, and spreads torture,
Cursing and disbelief through idle time.
What dwells within those plaits of saffron hair?
Speak, secretary, for all our patience ends.
But give me leave to speak—perplexity
Is on us of her escort: we were bid
Accompany her as she were led to prison;
And in this Nepi that is hers we know
She is a captive—we would rescue her;
She is a victim—we would slay the tyrant.
Oh, she is like a girl, a younger sister,
Still shut up with her tutors, whose fair face
Climbs from a narrow casement, and spreads torture,
Cursing and disbelief through idle time.
What dwells within those plaits of saffron hair?
Speak, secretary, for all our patience ends.
CRISTOFERO.
It must not. Hers will never end. Her passions
Lie in a bed of patience.
Lie in a bed of patience.
DON FEDERICO.
In a sea
That overwhelms them!
That overwhelms them!
CRISTOFERO.
No, in a bed of patience;
And there she fosters them. She will not die.
And there she fosters them. She will not die.