All language subtitles for The.Borgias.S01E05.SD.DVD-reward.en

Previously on The Borgias.

This pope is
a lecherous abomination!

The vultures are circling
our family.

We must protect ourselves.
I am about to invite an army

to march south.
An invasion.

- What do you want of Florence?
- Nothing.

- That will cost you something.
- You are a Borgia spy.

- Lucrezia must marry.
- She is just a child.

If our families were to unite,

Central Italy would be secure.

Giovanni Sforza, we welcome
you to the city of Rome.

The pope does not ask you
to love your future husband.

Merely to marry him.

What if my husband
proves ungallant?

- Do my eyes deceive me?
- Ursula Bonadeo.

- Your husband?
- Yes.

- You are tied to him?
- Unless someone can deliver me.

You bring a whore
to your sister's wedding?

There is a response
to such an insult,

but it would not be
appropriate here.

Elsewhere then?

I am afraid you can
count upon it.

- My lady.
- My thanks.

My husband's hands,
will they be soft?

I have words for that
Borgia wedding: farce,

public humiliation.

Oh, we're married now.

Watch over my daughter.

I pray that I made the
right decision for her.

♪

♪ The Borgias 1x05 ♪
The Borgias in Love
Original Air Date on April 24, 2011

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

Lucrezia.

What have I done?

Will God ever forgive me?

God may forgive you father,
but I never will.

Lucrezia!

Lucrezia!

Lucrezia!

You didn't snore.

But you wept...

all night.

That has to stop.

And you bled, thank God.

A virgin. You must be unique
in your family.

"A Borgia," they said.

"Is that how little I am
valued?" I said.

"The pope's daughter,"
they said.

"For shame," I said.

Your dowry was worthy
of a princessa.

Lucrezia Borgia Sforza.

Do you hunt?

No? Well, that's good.

Then we need hardly
see each other.

Except when
marital duties call.

And then I'll keep them brief

and business-like.

Oh, go away.

Do nightmares ever plague
the vice-chancellor?

Hm. The very office is
a nightmare, Your Holiness.

Of plots, petty intrigues
and petitions,

which I do my utmost to keep
from your presence.

I need your assurance...

of the welfare of my daughter...

...in the castle of your cousin,
Giovanni Sforza.

You suspect
she is ill used?

Our nightmares tell us so.

He will be putty in
her soft hands, Your Holiness.

Yes, he inherited
the Sforza name,

the Sforza wealth,
but none of its vigour.

And the Sforza appetite
for intrigue?

Hmm. Yes, well.
Yes, that he did inherit.

But intrigue is no match
for Borgia intelligence

as whole Rome has discovered.

So, I need your
further assurance that...

he and another cousin,

the Duke of Milan,
will be constant

in their support
for our papacy.

We have merged our fortunes

with the Sforza name.

The consequence

of that trust being betrayed

would be most severe.

Do you speak to me as
vice-chancellor, Your Holiness?

No. As a Sforza.

My eyes...

You can believe them,
Cardinal.

I asked to confess to you,
in person.

But I must confess,
I have nothing to confess.

Then why?

Because I had to see you.

And I had to see you

but couldn't you have chosen
a more personable venue?

There was an altercation
at your sister's wedding.

A promise of a reckoning.

I would beg you to desist from
pursuit of your mother's honour.

You may know little of me,
but those who know me know

that I remember such things.

You are concerned
for your husband's safety?

For yours.

He is a brute, a condotiorre,
the veteran of many battles.

Your calling is the Church,
not the sword.

If you were harmed,

I could not forgive myself.

I could not, perhaps, live.

You care so much
for one you hardly know?

Yes.

It is a puzzle.

Or a mystery.

Your visage is before
my eyes when I'm asleep,

when I wake,

when I close them.

I thought my eyes deceived me.
Now I think, mine ears.

Neither.

Bring your lips close
to mine, Cardinal.

I would feel your breath.

And I would kiss you,

but for this barrier
between us.

God is watching.

As the Bible tells us,

He is a jealous God.

There may always be
a barrier between us.

But if you promise me you will
not put yourself in harm's way,

then my heart's kiss
will be yours.

I promise then.

I will not put myself
in harm's way.

But you asked for deliverance,
Ursula Bonadeo.

The Lord will decide
my fate

and it will be
my fate to accept.

But now I must leave before
my soul flies from these lips.

You loved my father.

Fool that I am, my son,

perhaps I love him still.

Can it be cured?

No.

It can be endured,

embraced and suffered.

You are suffering, my son?

I have met a woman, Mother.

Who is married.

And she makes you suffer.

Perhaps she suffers too.

She does.

But if I can rid her
of her impediment...

She will be yours?

To endure a life
like you did, Mother.

You could leave the Church.

And displease your father.

If you dare.

I fear nothing, Mother.

I hope you will enjoy them.

Baronessa.

- Thank you.
- Dio ti Benedica.

- God bless you, my lady.
- Thank you.

Sister, we need your help
in the infirmary.

How did you find me?

I have my spies.

And they told you...

There was a vision,
on a white horse,

that rides out every morning
between prime and terce.

I am observed then.

As are we.

My husband does insist
I am accompanied.

Can they be discreet?

I see no need
for discretion.

No need.

Why do you have
spies, Cardinal?

A cardinal must have spies.

Does it displease you
that I searched you out?

No. Far from it.

There are many things that
please me about you, Cardinal.

Among them, the fact
that you are a cardinal.

Can you explain?

If I can find the words.

Your priestly collar makes me
hope my heart is safe.

Because I am not fully
in command of it.

So the fact that you are
a cardinal pleases me

as it distresses me.

I thought I would not be
cardinal for today.

Then my heart is in danger.

Would you endanger it,
Cardinal Borgia?

I would put it in fear
of its life.

Ah.

But I would never harm it.

That sounds like a riddle.

Are you good at riddles,
Cardinal Borgia?

Sadly, I must live
in one.

As must I.

And your name is?

Francesca.

What do you know
of marriage, Francesca?

I know, my lady,

it should not be thus.

It was retrieved from
a confessional in Florence.

And it was not used
for opening letters?

No, Your Eminence.

It was found impaled in the eye
of a mendicant friar.

And who impaled him?

The one we commanded him
to follow.

Can you do nothing right!?

Blink once

and you will be eyeless.

And I would still serve you
without one eye, Your Eminence.

Or without two.

So we lost him
and you know not where?

Milan.

You should wear
a clown's hat.

Della Rovere has left Florence.

With or without satisfaction?

We have the papal armies,
the Sforza armies,

our allies in the Romagna
all under my command.

To hell with Florence!

My fear is the cardinal would
invite apocalypse.

He would open the 7 seals?

No, Father. Let us not talk
in metaphors.

My fear is...

he would go to France,

conspire with the French
to invade us,

arrange free passage
of their armies

through the Republic
of Florence,

through the Duchy
of Milan.

- And the French King would...
- Depose you,

march south to Naples.

His armies are hardened
by a 100 years of battle

with England. There is nothing
here to match them.

Duke Ludovico Sforza
of Milan.

He is cousin
to our sister's husband,

Giovanni Sforza.

Lucrezia did not marry
Ludovico Sforza, Brother.

And they don't call him
Il Moro for nothing.

I hear he keeps his own cousin
caged beneath his castle floors.

He would betray us
in a moment

if he thought
his dukedom was in peril.

What he fears

is that his nephew will
wear his crown.

Well,

perhaps we should threaten him

with just that possibility.

And you should go to Florence

tease out their intentions.

Those Medici bankers

have a preacher,

Savonarola,

who accuses them of usury.

Perhaps we should offer them
an excommunication...

...public burning

if they support
our just cause.

They call me Il Moro,
Cardinal.

Can you imagine why?

Because of Your Highness'
dark complexion?

Because of my cunning.

Like the Moors of old,

I outwit them all.

You will have given my proposal
the grace of your cunning then?

Hmm...

You...

wish me to grant
French arms

safe passage

through the Duchy of Milan.

But why would the French King
march south, hm?

Because, most honourable duke,

of his claims
on the Kingdom of Naples.

Ah! The great game of Naples.

Everybody wants Naples.

My nephew,

GIAN GALEAZZO,

thinks it part
of his inheritance.

But then...

He thinks Milan is his. Hm!

AM I RIGHT, NEPHEW?

You think it Christian

to have him so caged?

Until he comes
to his senses.

WHO AM I?

You are Ludovico Sforza.

I am not the Duke of Milan?

That title is mine.

MINE!

Admit it and you'll have
wine to drink.

Politics is a delicate game.

So I observe, my lord.

You, Cardinal?

Have you come to liberate him?

I have come to ask

for the safe passage
of French arms.

Indeed.

From the Duke of Milan.

Well, Cardinal.

I will consider it.

Fresh bread! Bread, bread!

Cabbages this way! More cabbages
for your money! Over here!

- You got 2 plump ones for me?
- Yes, of course, signore.

- Well fed, are they?
- Fresh bread here!

Florence,
the time will come,

when all your finery,

goods, and chattels will
profit you nothing.

You have lived in usury,
Florence, like pigs in heat.

The riches of your banking may
astound the world,

but one day
they will be your undoing!

Owing to your avarice,
neither you

nor your children lead
a good life.

You have already discovered

many devices of gaining money...

It was rumoured a cardinal had
graced Florence with his presence.

...which you call just,
and are most unjust.

- You are?
- Niccolo Machiavelli.

...likewise has...

Ambassador of the
House of Medici.

...corrupted the magistrates
and their functions.

This friar would burn
your Florence to the ground.

Not quite.

Oh, no one can persuade you
it is sinful to lend at usury.

He would reduce us
to his own status.

...and make
unjust bargains...

- Which is?
- ...on the contrary...

A pile of straw
on a monastery floor.

- ...you defend yourselves.
- He disapproves...

...to your souls' damnation!

...of display,
ornament, artistry.

- Nor does any man...
- Even comfort.

...take shame to himself...

Perhaps Cardinal Cesare Borgia
can be of some help.

He would meet with my master,
Piero de Medici?

- ...fools who refrain from it.
- No.

He would meet with you,
Ambassador.

Thus, thy fulfilled
the saying of Isaiah-

Aha, a conspiracy then.

"They declare their sin
as Sodom"

No.
More like an inquisition.

...and of Jeremiah,
"Thou hast a whore's forehead."

Perhaps you should
follow me.

"...thou refusedst
to be ashamed."

Another cardinal came
through here

some days ago.

He left his mark, I believe,
on a confessional door.

There was
a friar found murdered.

But that cardinal claimed
to be a man of peace.

We all do,
Signor Machiavelli.

You make the same claims?

For the moment.

But I would hazard,

if this cardinal passed
through Florence,

he did more than pinion
a mendicant friar to

a confessional door.

- You would?
- Yes, I would hazard he met

with the Florentine ambassador
and his master, de Medici.

And if he did?

I would hazard there was
a purpose to that meeting.

The purpose being?

That Florence unite
with his cause.

No. On the contrary.
He asked for nothing.

Nothing?

Or, to be more specific,

he asked
that Florence...

do...
nothing.

He requested
that Florence do nothing,

in the event
of a great something.

You are far too clever
for a cardinal.

The times have
made me so.

He requested
that Florence do nothing,

and allow a great passage
of arms through its republic.

Perhaps.

And Florence promised him?

Why should I tell you
what Florence told him?

I could perhaps ensure

that instead
of your beautiful Florence,

Friar Savonarola
himself burns.

Hmph!

An impressive offer.

So, Florence offered
the good cardinal?

What he offered Florence.

Nothing.

So the arms of France cannot
pass through your fair republic?

In a sentence.

And if these times have made
you clever,

the coming months may thrust
genius upon you.

My lord is...

My lady.

Forgive me
for startling you.

My lord is hunting.

Would my lady have me saddle
her a horse so she can

ride out after him?

There is nothing your
lady would like less.

He is a good huntsman,
your lord?

No deer is safe from him.

Pity the poor deer then.

But at least
their agony ends.

Yes. He's a clean killer.

And your name is?

Paolo.

Your shirt is torn, Paolo.

Would you like me
to stitch it?

I could never ask, my lady.

And stop this "my lady"
nonsense.

My name is Lucrezia.

Say it.

Lucrezia...
my lady.

...in summation,
Your Holiness,

I would reiterate

his Highness' pleasure
at the possibility

of an union between
the Kingdom of Navarre

and the Borgia family.

Between the Gonfaloniere
Juan Borgia

and his beloved niece,
the Princess Sylvia,

whose portrait is
now my pleasure

to present
to the Papal Court.

We thank his Royal Highness.

And if this depiction
does justice

to the Princess Sylvia,

then her beauty

is indeed without compare.

Her reputation...
does precede her.

We will consider
your gracious suit

in the fullness of time.

And do the horses
have names, Paolo?

Indeed they do, my lady.

- Lucrezia.
- My lady Lucrezia.

This is Diablo.

The devil.

Yes.

He was the devil for speed
until he tumbled on a break

and shattered his hoof.
And now?

His fire is gone entirely.

He will end up pulling hay.

There are worse
fates, Paolo.

And this one?

An Arab mare...
Fatima.

One could not have
them in the same stable

when he was in his prime.

But after his break...
He was chastened.

He is like a mare
himself now, my lady.

Lucky Fatima.

She can sleep
well at night.

Show me your hands, Paolo.

Bring them here.

I would touch them.

Soft.

Will they be hard some day?

I know not, my lady.

Lucrezia.

♪ I took a bow
and aimed it low ♪

You know it?

♪ And caught you
on the chin, chin, chin ♪

♪ My mother said
Now go to bed ♪

♪ I'll have
to lock you in, in, in ♪

My lady

Lucrezia.

Say it.

Lucrezia.

She is ugly, Father.

No more than all the others.

They are all ugly.

I'll marry none of them.

Second-rate royalty,

cousins of half-brothers
of princes.

I'll marry a king's daughter
or nothing.

Nothing, I'm afraid,
is not an option, my dear son.

Let Joffre marry instead.
King Ferrante of Naples

has an illegitimate daughter.

- Sancia.
- And the pope does need some

security in Naples.

A union between you and Sancia

could have some benefits.

Are you deaf, father?

She is the half-bred bastard
of an ailing dotard.

Let Joffre marry her.
I will marry a true princess

or I will take my pleasures
where I find them.

Your Holiness--

Forgive me, Cardinal,

I had hoped to find you alone.

And, Your Holiness,
my cousin was just, huh...

- Your cousin?
- Gabriella Visconti,

at your service.

A Sforza?

Twice removed.

Well, we would hope
more than twice.

Well, Cardinal,
you are awash with cousins,

which is why we wish
to speak with you.

At Your Holiness' pleasure.

We would discuss
another cousin,

in whose hands the survival
of our papacy may lie.

Your Holiness refers
to the Duke of Milan?

Indeed. Cardinal Della Rovere
heads there as we speak.

Well, if I can be
of any assistance...

Well, you could disembowel
the dear cardinal.

Does the office of
vice-chancellor extend so far?

To include executions?
Sadly not.

But you could inform
your cousin, the Duke of Milan,

that we could well see

the justice
of his nephew's cause,

should the duke choose

to act against our wishes.

Is your betrothed old,
Francesca?

Nine months older
than me, my lady.

You are lucky then.

The older male is like a boar.

He bristles with hair.

And when he doesn't beat,

he thrusts.

Did he beat last night?

No, but he thrusted.

I counted 27 of them.

32 the night before.

Already, more bearable.

You must quicken his pleasure.

Is that possible?

Indeed. You can reduce it
to single figures.

And for the sake
of one's own endurance,

I find it helps to count.

To count?

Sheep.

Sancia of Naples.

- What of her?
- Is she beautiful?

In the Neapolitan way.

Ooh, what way is that,
my love?

Dark.

Sicilian.
Almost Moorish.

And I have heard
her temper is Sicilian too.

Would she make a bride for-

Juan?

A match made in...

Where?

Wherever such matches are made.

No, not Juan.

Juan will do what Juan will do.

Cesare? Now that would be--

No, you know Cesare can
never marry.

No, for...

for Joffre.

Good God.

Will you never stop?

Never.

You are going to ensnare
the whole of Europe

in your progeny.

What else are families
for, hm?

Ah! 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

What?
What are you saying?

I am counting, my lord.

- Counting?
- Sheep, my lord.

Could you count in silence?

Counting sheep.

Can she sleep now?

I truly hope so.

You disappoint me, Cardinal.

We are family, after all.

If I am your cousin, my liege,

I am also cousin
to your cousin, Gian Galeazzo,

who lays claim
to your throne.

This Borgia pope threatens--

No, His Holiness does
not threaten.

His Holiness merely reminds
the duke

of where his best interests lie.

And in the event
of a French invasion--

He would pretend
to see the justice

of this pretender's cause--

As we would hope
that you would see--

AH! A CHAMPION! AT LAST,
YOU SNIVELING PRETENDER,

YOU HAVE A CHAMPION!

You would release him, Cardinal?

My lord, I would not be
so precipitous--

No, but I insist!
Release him!

Have him dine with us tonight!

What is it you hunger
for most!?

Freedom.
And pheasant.

So, Cardinal. Let us feed
that hunger of his, hmm?

Freedom and
pheasant it is.

He wolfs his pheasant so.

Mother never taught him manners.

Another.

Indeed.

You are the Duke now,
are you not?

Have mine.

And you,
cousin cardinal,

can tell that Borgia pope,

that Catalan clown,

that Spanish nonentity

that marries
his bastard daughter

to my cousin and thinks
he will buy my friendship!

Tell him he will never have it!

Tell him I will welcome

French arms with open arms
of my own!

Spit it out!

Poison!

Gluttony, more like.

Duke for an hour.

Undone by his table manners.

You have no servants?

Thank you, my lady.

Some tasks one must
perform oneself.

- Such as?
- Distribution of alms.

In the convent of St. Cecilia,
there are many hungry souls.

I stand in awe,
Ursula Bonadeo.

Of what?
Of loaves of bread?

Of goodness.

- Would that I were good.
- Don't move so quickly.

What is that mark
under that veil?

I beg you, heed it not.
It is in his nature.

So it seems.

And it is not in yours.
So heed it not.

Forget him and forget me.

You cannot stand for this.

The groom saw.
The groom talked.

My husband struck.
It's what husbands do.

You must free yourself.

He rides to Ostia
tomorrow night.

For 2 days,
I will be free.

You requested these,
Your Eminence.

Yes.

Since I have become eminent,
I have grown indolent.

I believe one goes
with the other, Your Eminence.

Call me Borgia
this good morning.

And I shall call you baron.

Baron?

Yes.

I made a promise
to a favoured lady

that I would not put myself
in harm's way. So...

...put me in harm's way.

Come on, Baron,
I would see your best.

Now, my best

would break
your promise, Borgia.

Show me then.

One blade is never enough,
Your Eminence.

Yes.

And eminence has dulled
my edge.

Again.

Where does he hunt?

In the high mountain passes.

He is brave with those deer.

Perhaps.

But they suffer
less than me, do they not?

He kills them quickly.

Do you suffer?

- Nightly.
- It must stop.

It is a crime against...

Against what?

Against you.

Your beauty.

You are the pope's daughter.
How can he stand it?

The pope doesn't know.

If I could write,
I would send him a letter.

Am I beautiful, Paolo?

You are the most beautiful
thing I have yet seen.

Lift me down.

I could adjust his saddle.

You could adjust
my lord's saddle

He would fall.

He would break.

He would return home,

tamed.

Broken.

- What if he died?
- From a fall? He would never.

What if I had you whipped
for wickedness?

You would never.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

Of that I am sure.

The cardinal was shocked
to the core.

Apparently, he dropped dead
right in front of him

at the duke's table.

Poison.

So it is rumoured.

Gluttony, it is said.

But the result's the same.

If the French army moves,

it will have free passage
through Milan.

And the only force to stop it
will be Florence.

And Florence can
hardly stand alone.

No, I think it might be time
to give Naples what they want.

An alliance?

Better than that.

A wedding!

Who this time, Father? Me?

Ah! Five... Six...

Seven...

Eight...

Nine...

Eleven...

Twelve.

My wife is to receive
no visitors

in my absence.
Yes, my lord.

You should let me deal with
him, Your Eminence.

Did he insult
your mother?

Then we should
both do it.

Where would the valour
be in that?

Or the pleasure?

No.

I shall do this...

alone.

An accident, my lady.

The Lord Sforza.

You, Cardinal, have been
nosing round my wife.

And you, Baron,
slandered my mother.

You mean the Spanish whore?

I mean my mother.

From the whorehouse to the
Vatican is quite a journey.

But it ends here.

- Ah!
- Oh!

Your wife prayed
for liberation.

Libera me domine
de morte aeterna.

You never forget
your first.

Lift!
I felt the life go from him.

Better him than you. But at
least you are still breathing.

Was I in harm's way,
Micheletto?

Not for a moment,
Your Eminence.

- Leave me alone!
- It is a break, my lord,

but you will survive it.
Water, please.

A muslin cloth
and a splint,

a piece of wood
between his teeth.

My husband!

Forgive me, my lord.

You will feel some pain.
Be brave, my husband.

On the count of 3.

1, 2,

3.

You killed this man
with grace, Your Eminence.

You should be proud.

- Will I be thanked for it?
- In my experience,

one rarely is.

A thankless task then.

The river will be grateful
for him, Your Eminence.

It loves a skewered corpse.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==