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!

[_His hand touches his hilt._

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.

Virgilia.

CESARE.

You find me beautiful? While the Piazza is still empty....

[_He whirls her swiftly round Pasquino._

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.

Matutinal, fair lady?

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.

[_Exit_ CARDINAL IPPOLITO, _dismissed by a gesture from_ 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.

I am veiled.

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!

[_He advances up the church steps with SANCIA, followed by_ DJEM.

A ROMAN PEASANT WOMAN.

Who is it, Virgilia?

VOICES.

It is one who rode a white horse. --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.

Does the crowd still keep the legend? Off, gentles, you do not know me.

VOICES.

What are you? [_He turns and fronts them._] The Lord Cardinal! --The Pope’s son!

A FAR-OFF VOICE.

You are the brother of a ghost.

[_Two Spanish Gentlemen of_ CESARE’S _train pass and doff to him_.

--Ugh, the Spaniards! --Hidalgo! --Moor! --Infidel! --Where is your cut-throat?

A BOY.

You are the Lord Cesar.

[CESARE _goes up to the_ BOY _and flings a chain round his neck_.

OTHER VOICES.

More allegiance! 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.

[_Exit into San Giacomo with_ SANCIA _and_ DJEM.

VOICES.

But he has the face of a king. --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.

’Tis Proteus.

AN ONION-SELLER.

And what is Proteus?

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.

[_He reads._

Whelm the Bull-calves, O vengeful Tiber, deign 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.

[_He draws them, laughing, after him among the booths._

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.

Behold!

[_Advancing and patting the jewelled clasp on his shoulder._

O Cesare, this lovely guise! 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.

[_She half-closes her veil and looks round on the group._

Mother, but your son is bowing, Is bowing low--salute him. By his side The Princess Sancia.

VANOZZA.

I salute the Princess.

DJEM.

[_Advancing to_ LUCREZIA.] And I--

[_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.

[_Returning to him._] Don Cesar, but you comprehend This pearl is for the merchant-men and not For any private owner in the world: She must not walk with mothers.

CESARE.

[_Absently._] Then convert her! You can convert a woman in a trice To any worship, if you worship her.

DJEM.

[_Returning to_ LUCREZIA.] You are the moon, The crescent moon. I have seen that in the church.

LUCREZIA.

You have seen the moon beneath our Lady’s feet.

DJEM.

You are the Lady. [LUCREZIA _laughs irrepressibly_.

VANOZZA.

Come, Lucrece, away!

CESARE.

But have you, little mother, eyes too pious To own your son?

VANOZZA.

I cannot understand. You are drest as a Turk.

CESARE.

[_Catching_ DJEM’S _arm_.] This is my brother.

VANOZZA.

Hush, hush! An infidel! And your own brother....

SANCIA.

Ah, so lately murdered! Madonna de’ Catanei, I condole.

LUCREZIA.

Peace, Sancia! [_To_ VANOZZA.] This noble Turkish Captain Is brother to the Sultan: Cesare Instructs him in our Church’s mysteries.

DJEM.

I am instructed; it is excellent. A good Church!

CESARE.

Mother, this is ill-behaved; You are not quite yourself. Give me your blessing.... Here is the sacred spot.

[_He bends and points to his tonsure in the midst of his turban._

--Then pass away To the dark shrines and weep! Mother!

VANOZZA

[_Shaking her head._] I have no blessing. I refuse.

CESARE.

Then pass away to the dark shrines and weep!

[VANOZZA _goes slowly up the steps to the church_.

Hither, Lucrezia, hither! Through the market For the last time while I am Cardinal! Hither, sweet boon-fellow!

LUCREZIA.

[_Pulling at the fringe of his turban._] But call her back.

CESARE.

How fares His Holiness? You cannot dance 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.

[_Showing her small teeth as she smiles._] Come on! 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.

_Vitula!_ She is for Tiber! --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.