SCENE IV

_The French Court at Chinon._

KING LOUIS XII. _and the_ LORD CARDINAL GIULIANO DELLA ROVERE (_afterwards_ POPE JULIUS II.)

LOUIS.

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.... Mon Dieu, mon Dieu How I have toiled to wed him, and content The Pope, who has contented My happiness, divorcing my sad wife, And joining to my crown my Breton Queen-- How I have toiled! If César wants a crown, Then in Carlotta he espoused the claim: But Naples and his daughter would not listen.

GIULIANO.

He wants a crown!

LOUIS.

Monseigneur Jules as you a triple crown-- Son of Ligurian peasants!

GIULIANO.

Ay, Of Italy’s own soil. But as the vines Breed flavour by the sod, Liguria Creates in me survivance to ascend The Throne my uncle Sixtus made august, Holding each force ingenerate in man Executive, building as Titans build. Only Rodrigo Borgia’s Spanish gold Has kept me unachieved, to bear the sorrow Of Destiny’s elect that wait their star: There is prepotency in such. This bastard Tears through his day--a comet--to his fall.

LOUIS.

O Seigneur Dieu! What bombast and vain glory in his coming. The Kings of Fez or Ethiopia Climb out of fewer jewels: our street-gazers Have scarcely drawn their breath since he passed by, The little Duke we titled Valentinois! Yet, by all saints, he loads the air with sway Of such duplicity and blandishment, He puts such grace about magnificence, Such a cold and heat about his speech--I, Louis Of France, have promised Soldiers to win him land, my niece to marry. The papers all are signed. Acquaint the Pontiff, With largest swell of triumph, Charlotte D’Albret Of the blood royal is his César’s bride. _Cor meum_--so he names this slip of his! And he has been in fury like the Bull Of his escutcheon at the scarlet waving Of royal-hearted, contumacious Naples. Felicitate our weary guest. The lady Shall meet him in your presence. Saint Denys, This unfrocked bastard of a priest, what order, Or what precedence notes him, even his birth Is sacrilege--he bows too low! God grant me One day to set my face against his prayer!

[_Exit_ KING LOUIS.

GIULIANO.

God grant that to Pope Julius! _Domine, Exaudi me, Pater omnnipotens!_ I hate these Borgia! At their corner-stone, Where lie their votive gifts of blood and gold To Fortune, I will shake them--though, in exile, I serve them for a while, to please this monarch Whose voice can triple-crown.

_Enter_ DUKE CESARE DE VALENTINOIS.

Illustrious, I give you joy--a bridegroom, formerly A Cardinal--much joy!

CESARE.

Thanks! Are campaigns of war As tedious as these contracts? Naples first.... Naples will rue her part.

GIULIANO.

And then old D’Albret.

CESARE.

His clutch on ducats and on documents! My lord, you have reported....

GIULIANO.

That the King hangs his wrist upon your shoulder, That you have won all hearts, all company, And now a bride is won--the Fleur-de-Luce.

CESARE.

More! I have royal pledge Of aid to raise an army that will conquer The Castles of Romagna for the Church.

GIULIANO.

I give you joy, seeing you never yet Have formed a line of battle, grouped your pieces....

CESARE.

Did Mercury have lessons for the lyre, Or Hercules in wrestling? Were they not born Each to his art’s perfection?

GIULIANO.

Rarely spoken!

_Re-enter_ KING LOUIS _with_ MADEMOISELLE CHARLOTTE D’ALBRET.

LOUIS.

Mon Duc de Valentinois, I bring our Dian’s youngest nymph, our Queen’s Sixteen-year maiden. Grow acquainted! Lotta, You will be well contented with this bridegroom, As young as he is handsome.

[CESARE _kisses her hand and leads her to a couch, sitting by her_.

CESARE.

Madame, we are wedded, A maytime couple, in two days. Lord Giuliano, tell his Holiness: Do not delay your letters.

LOUIS.

Come with me and write them, Monseigneur Jules.

[_They withdraw, leaving_ CESARE _and_ CHARLOTTE D’ALBRET _together_. CESARE _remains passive: he holds a golden ball of perfume, snuffs, and plays with it_.

CESARE.

So is the world my bauble....

CHARLOTTE.

How sweet the fragrance!

CESARE.

Do not touch it, child! Now, to be plain, I hear you pleaded hard That I should be your bridegroom. Have you courage To mate this dreaded Cesar?

CHARLOTTE.

Since Carlotta Refuses you.... [CESARE _starts up_. If you will have the truth, As among royal princes, I am chosen To wed you by the King and by my father.

CESARE.

[_Letting his hand fall softly on her._

Princess, this is a colloquy of love.

CHARLOTTE.

[_Lifting the hand and kissing it._

Oh, then, lord César, then I take this hand; Then--you are mine.

CESARE.

[_In a murmur, looking away._] I shall have lawful heirs.