Borgia: A Period Play

_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....

Cesare’s picture Of how they parted on the Banchi Vecchi; The strange masked figure that Giovanni swung Up to his saddle as he rode away, Away-- I see him in the midsummer, calm...

Already looking out; The balcony already crammed with watchers, That strain beyond the roofs! But this impatience Is almost genius in its quality. Poor children, you were hurrie...

_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...

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 pri...

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 thei...

Spawn of a harlot, if you brave the Church, Reserving her possessions, you descend Into the Mola’s deepest cells to perish Of darkness and the phantoms through the dark Your ser...

How cold! [_Stirring the fuel._ And cold too in the turret. Ice and fire! And the ice stronger than the fire--the fire Mere dying ash! O God, this Cesar! Ancient of Days, what a...

She rows the air, she towers ... now makes her point, Now waits--she waits up the free air. Magnificent!... A kite that she would vanquish.... Quarry--and she upon her tower ......

_Sol in Leone!_ There is nothing pleasant When the year fills that tract ... rage, rage, and sandy, Consuming light! I live a damp, old horse, O’er-ridden by the ardour of the a...

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...

MONSIGNORE BURCHARD _at the bed’s head watching: two card-players at a little table by the bedside. The_ LORD ALEXANDER VI. _is sitting up in bed, his glazed eyes fixed on the g...

NEPI: _a sullen evening over the volcanic country_. DUKE CESARE DE VALENTINOIS DELLA ROMAGNA _lies stretched on a black litter along the terrace of the castle, under a clump of...

I thank God for this sleep. Those fearful days I knelt against his door! The raving wildness I heard at times--inhospitable sorrow, Aloof from our Creator! Then, dashed down, Th...

Our Captain Has ever saved his troops fatigue and tempest: These men are rude in habit, and the lashing Of mountain-storms familiar. O my lad, We are not now in Italy.

... From my most early years 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 apost...

This sorry Milanese! He raves with spite and proves himself a man By foul detraction of her family. We chuckle at the weakling. He may hoot! Your Don Alfonso is a noble lad, A g...

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...

Draw in, draw in, draw in, My light of service, Gaspare--the wind Would, if it could, extinguish you. Go yonder! Set further in upon the table there That vase ... enamel with th...

_A room in the Palace of Santa Maria in Porticu belonging to_ DONNA LUCREZIA BORGIA D’ARAGON. DONNA LUCREZIA _sits at the head of a couch_; DUKE CESARE DE VALENTINOIS _lies alon...

See, Messer Niccolo! We are even with our enemies. This rope-- New rope ... the enemy Of Florence, Vitellozzo, and with him Oliveretto soon will tassel it. Ha, ha! The false Con...

_An apartment next to the Borgia Tower, which is reached by a passage on which the door gives._ DON MICHELOTTO CORELLA _stands in the centre, the door being open. Suddenly_ DUKE...

_The Vatican--a Loggia._ DON ALFONSO _and_ DONNA LUCREZIA BORGIA D’ARAGON _are seated together. There are peaches on a golden dish by them, a golden wine-jug and goblet. Two qua...

For days She has been pacing, fasting, full of terrors Worse far than any term! The air has quickened To prophet’s divination--noise and silence Was in it of great woe. She come...

César de France! This gold-haired bastard, with his dubious eyes And sullen majesty, each day more splendid In silks and gold, more sullen every hour Behind his patient smile......

By Hercules--your pardon, Yet by your name, as if it were divine-- This queen of swords is warlike, not of peace In its adornment as a legate’s sword ... A legate, _tamquam paci...

_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 VALE...

_A very squalid, little street, giving on to the Tiber. It is low tide; some few stars are coming out. A masked figure seats itself on the remains of an old barge, tilted up._

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.

Your Holiness will recollect he lies Under suspicion of Giovanni’s death. You send a blood-stained envoy on this business, And thrust me from my place. You have yourself To than...

My sables Hang heavy on the spring; and I myself Have known a bliss struck cold, a pleasure So terrible ... he, who attracts such joy And overcomes such hate, Is puissant as an...

I shall visit thee again: for that revive! Open thy eyes, Lucrece. ... Not dare to bleed her! Give me the little foot.... No sobs, Alfonso, For I must have the surety of a smile...

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...

No, Don Garcilaso, I am resolved. Here you will be received no more. Look round, And bid farewell; For in these tainted rooms I will not live: The reek of blood, the breath of h...

_It is dead midnight: lights are burning._ LORD CARDINAL CESARE, _in the black satin dress of a Spanish gentleman, with jewelled poignard, reclines on a couch. He appears to be...

My doves, My little, gladsome ones.... Rodrigo!... My little Roman dove, my young, a softness Still to my bosom.... And this father-- His love to me, and all the streams of pear...