The Borgias

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

Come hither! Oh, degenerate church!

I gave you my house, saith the Lord,

and you have defiled it with outrage!

This pope is a lecherous abomination!

Is there no crime for which he has not been accused?

He is lower than the beast that crawls

or the Red Whore of Babylon!

Florence, you will pay for your greed and usury

when he grinds you to perdition!

Oh, what was the illness our dear Djem died of, brother?

- Marsh fever. - That he caught from our own swamps?

I fear I may have caught it too.

No, my love.

I think perhaps you are sick with heartbreak.

I think I shall never have another friend like him.

You will always have me.

I have heard it whispered by the maid servants

that his estate paid for my dowry.

I think you know, my love, that our father has funds enough.

But... if it were true, Cesare,

I could never marry this Giovanni Sforza,

however handsome he may be.

Who told you he was handsome?

He is ugly, then?

What a fate.

He is far from ugly.

He has his Sforza profile, the nobility of bearing.

And the Sforza armies. And the castles.

And all those things we all might gain that will help our dear father's cause.

You are learning fast, Lucrezia.

Not fast enough.

Tell me again what my dear Djem died of.

Swamp fever.

A mosquito...

...killed my Moor.

You would not lie to me, brother?

I think you should sleep now, my love.

Perhaps it's a mosquito has bitten me.

Do not fret, Holy Father.

I know my daughter.

The illness is less in her body than in her heart.

- Well, she is-- - The changes of her state

overwhelm her. She is to be married soon.

She's lost her blackamoor.

Her father communes only with God

or with La Bella Farnese.

Your tone is hardly appropriate, madam.

Forgive me, then, my tone.

But rest assured, I will nurse her back to the most excellent health,

and we will both have the pleasure of seeing her walk

up the aisle of St. Peter's.

I'm afraid we will not.

Do not fret, my love.

I will nurse her back to health. I promise. No, you misunderstand me.

I do?

We will not both have that pleasure.

Why not?

The Sforza lineage is a noble o.

They have requested that there be no...

...hint of scandal.

- You mean-- - I mean...

...that you cannot attend.

- Because... - Because of your past!

Oh... God!

Well, if the whole of Rome knows!

- Do not do this. - Look, I--

- Do not do this, Rodrigo! - A marriage such as this,

with the attendance of the royalty of Christendom--

She is my only daughter!

For one who is rumoured to have been a courtesan

to attend... You're breaking my heart!

- It is impossible. - Would you break hers too?

Shh, shh!

I will make it up to you.

How?

What is he, Micheletto? Benedictine, or Franciscan?

He belongs to a mendicant order, Your Eminence.

- Well, where is his begging bowl, then? - He has yet to find one.

But he will.

So with his begging bowl, he can travel to Florence.

He can send you reports-- what he sees, what he hears.

Then no killing?

The scandal of your Naples misadventure travelled wide.

We must make do now with information--

about whom Della Rovere meets,

where he travels.

Besides, monks do not kill. No.

They beg and they pray, Your Eminence.

Has he a name, this mendicant?

Giancarlo, at Your Eminence's service.

Your scars betray you.

Keep yourself cowled.

You look pale, Bella Lucrezia.

Yes, I have been ill.

My dusky friend inhabits my dreams.

Do not think so much of Djem, my dear.

He has a secret that he cannot speak of.

His beautiful dark mouth opens, but no sounds come out.

In your dreams?

And I have to kiss those lips to comfort them.

- Oh, dear. - Is it...

...rmissible, Donna Giulia,

to kiss a dead Moor in your dreams?

All things are permissible in our dreams.

Look in the mirror, Lucrezia.

You yourself are dream enough for anyone.

I could be happy in this dress.

But I shall need lessons in kissing.

I shall soon have to kiss the Lord Sforza.

The dowry contract is agreed.

And Pesaro brings with it 5,000 horses

and twice as many spears.

A valuable addition indeed to the papal armies.

Enough to see off any...

...paltry alliance of upstart dukes

that Della Rovere cobbles together. Perhaps.

I wonder... Would he dare France?

Holy Father?

Hmm...

The Spanish king asks for our blessing

on their conquest of this new continent.

Perhaps it is time for us to strengthen our ties

with our ancestral homeland.

First,

there's a chaste kiss,

full of promise, like this one.

That's easy.

Then,

there's the kiss of pleasure,

which begins to promise.

You know them all?

All of them. There are many more.

Any woman must.

Show.

Did my mother kiss my father thus?

I would hazard she did.

And you,

do you kiss him thus now?

Let us adjust your dress.

And your dress, Donna Giulia.

What colour have you chosen? I thought a gown of apricot.

My mother's favourite gown is apricot.

You must take care not to outshine her.

I'm afraid there's no possibility of that.

What do you mean? You have advised her already?

You haven't heard?

Another secret.

I'm tired of secrets. It is no secret.

Tell me, then. What have I not heard?

Your mother...

...is not coming to your wedding.

Well, that is silly, Giulia Farnese.

Of course she's coming.

I'm afraid your father has deemed it otherwise.

My...

My father, he would never...

- I'm afraid-- - I must speak to him of this.

Father. Ah, we're in here, Lucrezia.

Oh! Ha-ha! Have you come to show us your dress?

Oh! It's more beautiful than we could have imagined!

You are the pope of Rome.

But surely not even the pope of Rome can bar my mother from my wedding day?

Oh, dear.

I will gladly marry whom you choose;

what your politics demand.

The Borgia family will be united with the Sforzas,

but however noble their lineage,

they cannot bar my mother from my wedding day.

No, but these are issues, my dear daughter,

that are beyond your care. But I am learning, Holy Father!

She was once what they call a courtesan, and you are the pope of Rome.

But you loved her once.

As I do now.

And I will have my mother at my wedding day.

Come, sis. Let us talk of these things elsewhere.

Please, Holy Father! I need you both there!

My mother and my father!

Alms, for the love of God.

Never was a woman more wretched than myself

in such a marriage with such a husband.

Ah, Penelope, darling.

I bid you good health. Uh,

how are the good people of the countryside?

They do less mischief than those in town, it would seem.

Would your choice be comedy or tragedy, my lord?

It is my sister's wedding.

I would see her smile.

Ah! One of the comedies, perhaps,

of Terence or Plautus? The difference between them?

Um, the comedies of Terence have refinement.

Refinement.

Refinement is good. Yes.

Those of Plautus are known for their vulgarity.

Vulgarity is better.

Ah! He wrote of bawds, pimps, courtesans.

- Better still. - Who is she?!

She is...

Do you want to know her name? - Do you even know her name?

No.