All language subtitles for the.borgias.s03e02.720p.en

Previously on
The Borgias...

They settled
like crows around me -

praying for my death.

Cardinal Orsini,
Cardinal De Luca.

I came as soon as I heard.

My father lives. You failed.

Where are these
allies, Cesare?

Who are our friends?

Without him,
what becomes of us?

You should go.
It's not safe here.

I'm to be your husband.

Yes, but you're not yet.

I will send for you.

What is this?
This is your freedom.

Don't forget who put
it in your hands.

Guards!

Did you do this?
No.

All this has done
is move things along

a little faster than
we'd anticipated.

Now I require
your assistance.

And if I refuse?

Your cousin Catherina will
not be denied this chance.

He will die.
As will they all die.

All is well here?
No.

There is a plot to
kill your family.

When?

Tonight. Now.

All the snakes
in Rome have slid forth.

Who is to protect
this family if not you?

Ascanio betrayed us.

Then we will
have to find another way.

The cardinals?

No, their families.

Orsini. Vitelli.
Baglioni.

They hate each other.

They hate
the Borgias more.

Open your eyes.

We're not safe.

We are at war.

[♪]

♪ The Borgias 3x02 ♪
The Purge
Original Air Date on April 21, 2013

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

[♪]

Della Rovere's escape

was orchestrated
by whom?

Of that,
I must plead ignorance.

We are in a snake pit,

surrounded by venom
and smiling vipers,

and our son
pleads ignorance?

Maybe it was you, hm?

Ow.

Let me.

Maybe you helped him to
live to see another day.

The day perhaps when
your beloved father

breathes
his last.

If you believe that,
Father,

then you have lost
all faith in me.

We have lost faith in
everyone, everything,

even the hand
that guides us.

Surely not in
your own family?

Our family.

That...

bosom of trust
and tranquillity.

No.

We feel safe in
the arms of our family.

But as for that
nest of vipers -

called the College
of Cardinals -

we shall cleanse them.

Purge it.

As we ourselves
have been purged.

So, Brother,
who called us here?

This letter.

Unsigned.

It promised sport against
the Borgia family.

And what if a Borgia
wrote it?

Too clever surely -
even for them.

Can you think of a better way
to draw out their enemies?

Who's there?

Vitelli.

Paulo Orsini -
and Roberto.

When did you take
to writing letters?

We didn't.

You were summoned too?

Vitelli.

Prospero Colonna.

We were summoned
here by the Orsini?

You were summoned by me.

And you are?

I am the black heart
of a Borgia nightmare.

I speak with Catherina
Sforza's voice

and she invites
you all to join her

in a confederacy
of hatred.

A hatred
of the Sforza?

We all sign up
to that.

And she would
call you fool.

She would remind you
of the days

when families ruled
this papacy of ours.

Roman families.

Sforza, Colonna, Vitelli -

Orsini.

Bury your enmities,

bury them until the
Borgia snake is lanced.

And she has the
power to do that?

With your help.

And then, we can happily
hate each other again.

She will drink to that.

Think of Rome

as a spider's web,
my son.

Each family has its silken
thread attached to an egg

that is planted
within these walls.

Orsini. Baglioni.
Vitelli. Colonna.

And each one of those
diaphanous threads

go back through their families
to the tarantula of Forli.

The great Arachne,
Catherina Sforza.

And every egg wears
a cardinal's hat

and a smile of
obedience and piety.

And plots to murder you,
your mother, your sister.

And the plot to murder
your beloved brother...

...succeeds.

Unforgiveable,
surely.

So if you are
to gain our love again,

we would have you trace
those silken threads -

back to the families
outside these walls.

And let us deal with
the cardinals within.

And then
I never saw her again.

We're being followed.

Warn him off.

Yes, my lord.

You! Be wise
and go home now.

I am never wise.

Hey!

Go!

My Lord Vitelli.

My Lord Borgia.

You are in
quite the hurry.

We were accosted.

Rome is a lethal place
at times like these.

Who bears you
a grudge?

I know not.

My whole family
was assaulted.

And but for the actions
of my brave manservant,

my mother, sister,
and nephew

would lie like carrion
in the streets.

Yes, I heard as much.

You also heard who set
the dogs upon them?

No, I don't trust rumour.

Catherina Sforza,
it is rumoured.

It is also rumoured
that she had help.

From whom?

Who covets
the papal crown?

The great
Roman families:

Colonna, Orsini, Baglioni...

Vitelli.

A dangerous accusation,
my lord.

And one that would need evidence.
Indeed.

Micheletto -
call the night watch.

There was some unpleasantness
in the streets.

And so I shall escort the good
Lord Vitelli safely home.

Rodrigo.

No, no.
It's no good.

Come here.

It's no good!

My love...

it happens to every man
once in a while.

Not to me.

To every man.

Why, have you
known so many?

No.
I'm sorry.

Forgive me.
Forgive me.

Come here.

We have never been
unmanned before.

Maybe it's the poison.

Hm?

I mean, we want you.

We desire you.

You are tired.

You've been
through too much.

We have been
tired before.

We have never been
undone before.

Perhaps it's age.

You are the most vigorous
man I have ever known.

"Was," perhaps.

You are.
And this will pass.

Believe me,
it will pass.

Cardinal Orsini!

Sh, sh, sh.

You could hear
a pin drop, Micheletto.

If I had a pin.

Do you have a pin,
Cardinal?

No, my Lord,
I have no pin.

But you have relatives here.

Could you introduce me
to them?

The Lords Paulo, Roberto Orsini:
Lord Cesare Borgia.

At your service.

May I join you?

Be our guest.

You were here for the game,
I would hazard.

The pope falls ill.
The game begins.

Who will succeed him?
An Orsini?

A Colonna?
A D'Este?

Or, would anyone dare
bet on another Spaniard?

But the pope lives.
Indeed.

The game is over.
For now.

So then why do you still
linger here in Rome?

We like the ruins.

You prefer them to your
castle in Bracciano?

We like that too.

But you must confer with
your cousin, the cardinal.

Which is difficult
in Bracciano.

His business
is in Rome.

Yes, he serves the pope,
in Consistory.

Does that service include

the attempted assassination
of his family?

Be careful, my lord.

I am -
most careful.

I gutted those
incompetent dogs.

Sent by
Catherina Sforza?

By you?

Or by a great
combination of both?

But the pope survived,
thanks be to God.

Here, take it down.

So, be careful with your
calumnies and your accusations.

Rome is a city of rumour.

And you had a brother,
who was murdered.

And rumour has it that
the culprit still lives.

He has yet to be found.

Ah.

Well, perhaps he's here.

Are you accusing me?

Or me?

Come father, come!

Where we going?

That's the mystery. Come!

Ooh!
Come!

Father!

Hold on!

Hold me, Father -

promise you'll hold me!

I...I...

No!
Father!

Juan!

Cesare, Holy Father,
your loving son.

Our only son.

Catherina Sforza
seeks out allies.

Ah.

You've come to talk
to us about spiders.

In an alliance against us -
With whom?

All of them:
the great Roman families.

Hm.

So it is time to act.

To snip those silken threads
from their source.

The great Arachne.

And to give her a lesson
in the elegance of revenge.

Can revenge
be elegant?

Oh, yes.
And eloquent.

We shall begin
with words.

An inquisition,
within these walls.

They will all
cry innocent.

We will have one
interrogate the other.

Interrogate.

And of what do
we accuse them?

Of a hand
in the conspiracy.

To murder our sacred person,
and of our family.

The murder
of your beloved son.

You surpass yourself,
Cesare.

I have a lot
to atone for.

Mm.

We shall start with
he who is closest

to the tarantula
of Forli:

Cardinal Sforza.

Holiness,
I swear by the living God

that I am innocent
in this matter.

I have long forsaken
all ties with my family.

I am a nameless orphan,

in the service of God,
my pope,

and the Borgia family.

You would rather be
a Borgia than a Sforza?

In everything but name,
I already am.

And you wish to prove
to us your innocence?

Your Holiness, I must.

Then find for us

those responsible.

Who else then lies
under suspicion?

Everyone.

Anybody who wears
a red hat.

Interrogate them all.

I am hardly
an inquisitor.

Then become one.

We will cleanse
this Vatican of ours

of anyone who even thinks
to question our fitness

for this most
holy of offices.

Is thought to be
a crime now?

Begin with De Luca.

Threaten him with loss
of office and banishment and -

...he will sing madrigals.

And if he doesn't?

Take him to
the Castel Sant Angelo.

Acquaint him with
the instruments of torture.

You cannot torture
a prince of the church.

I know that.
You know that.

But imagination is
a great persuader.

He saw Savonarola burn.

He'll soon begin to sing -
if he hasn't already -

like a nightingale.

And then?

Then -seize his estates,
strip his red hat.

Banish him
to some hermitage.

And arrest all those
he has implicated.

And start
the process again.

We are in a new world,
Cardinal.

You were married before.

Indeed, my love.

The whole world
knows that.

And yet this child is
not your husband's.

True.

The whole world
knows that too.

If we are to be married,
and happily my love,

we must have no secrets.

Then I have a confession to
make to you, Lucrezia Borgia.

I'm listening.

I saved myself
for marriage.

Ah!
Thank God.

So you are all mine.

You misunderstand me.

I am that most
un-Italian thing.

A virgin.

Oh.

Well, we can soon
put that to rights.

I made a vow
to Saint Agnes.

The patron saint
of purity.

The first woman that
I'd lie with would be my wife.

Well lie with me.

I will be your wife.

Yes, but you are not yet.

Ah.

We must wait then.

Yes, we must wait.

And until that night,

all this beauty
will be just a promise.

Perhaps the poison
is still within you.

Perhaps it strikes
at the root of you.

The doctor said
that the poison is gone.

Perhaps it's
God's punishment:

your lack of vigour.

Or maybe His blessing.

In the past we have striven
to subdue our passions.

Maybe now
we can succeed.

How can we love when
the very air we breathe

is poisoned with
venom and hatred?

And trust no one -
but you?

And we could not protect you
when the assassins struck.

You can't blame
yourself for that.

We are God's
minister on Earth;

He has abandoned us.

If we cannot keep you safe,

we would rather
give up our calling.

Life without the papacy;
what a thought.

But how would you
spend your days?

Tending your vines?

Yes!
Oh!

We would sit together in
the garden in the evening

and watch our
grandchildren grow.

A garden?
We'd have a garden?

Mm.
Flowers, a beehive -

Beehive.

-a soft spring well.

Then we would find peace.

With all that we have, all the
trappings of office and power,

we cannot protect you,
our family.

We would rather be a
peasant in a garden

with a pitchfork -

if that would
keep you safe.

Cardinal De Luca.

I would speak
with you.

He heard every word,
the Holy Father.

Every word, every plot,
every insinuation.

He must know what happens
on the illness of a pope.

He plotted so himself.

This is not just
any ordinary pope.

This is a pope whose
son has been murdered

and whose family almost
died at the same blade.

He will take action.

So tell me,
what must I do?

First,
you must confess.

Well,
I admit it then.

I am guilty.
Of what?

Of avarice -
for advancement.

For, dare I say,
the throne of St. Peter.

Well, that may
not be enough.

Am I guilty of more?

Who murdered
the son?

The world awaits
news on that.

There was a plot

led by Catherina Sforza
and Della Rovere

to rid the earth
of the Borgia family.

The plotters are
in the Vatican walls.

I am a cleric,
Cardinal.

I am adept at strategy;

perhaps arranging votes
on conclave, on committee.

As to my expertise
in murder,

I would plead
incompetence.

You are the cousin
to Catherina Sforza.

The finger of such an accusation
must surely fall on you.

Indeed it does.

Which may well explain

my sense of urgency
in this matter.

When the Holy Father was ill,
he heard no words of mine.

And what are my options?

Confession.

To a crime I would never
even dream of committing?

Then name those who would.
The plotters.

And who are they?

Orsini, Versucci, Colonna.
Pick who you will.

It doesn't matter.
They all wanted him dead.

I could never.

Yes, I know; the very
thought seems outrageous.

But we must learn how
outrage becomes normality.

This Vatican of ours
has changed...

...forever.

Follow me.

Follow you where?

Into the future.

Am I, a prince of the church,

to be to put to the rack?

The very thought appalls me.

But there are others
less delicate than I.

So perhaps these
instruments of torture

may act as an aid
to contemplation.

Cardinal Sforza,
Cardinal Sforza,

Cardinal Sforza, please!

Please, Cardinal Sforza!

Please,
Cardinal Sforza!

Cardinal Sforza!

Sforza!

NO!
Sforza!

May I enter?

Will modesty allow it?

Please.

Little Giovanni.

He's a virgin.

He will punish me cruelly.

He will
make me wait.

Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh.

I have had word from my uncle,

King Ferdinand of Naples.

Observe.

The sleep of the innocent.

You have come to
kiss him good night?

Or to kiss me?

My uncle's letter
mentioned him: the child.

The child?

Neither mine nor
your husband's.

What of it?

My uncle has expressed his
disquiet at the thought of...

The thought of?

The thought of a child
without legitimacy

in the palace of Naples.

Well, you and your uncle will
have to agree to disagree then.

Of course.

You would never -
Who negotiates your dowry?

My brother.

Well, then I must go
to him and insist that -

Perhaps I should broach
the matter with him.

You?

My brother's passions
can be intense

where issues of family
are concerned.

[♪]

Oh.

Why have you forsaken me?

Why have you
forsaken me?

You are in the house of lies.

The devil's house?

Think of them
as your friends.

The rack?

The iron maiden?

They have a message
for you.

You have used them,
I am sure.

I have suffered on them.

Your inquisitor believes
that they elicit the truth.

They do not.

A man will say anything
on the rack to make it end.

Then why am I here?

To learn to lie.

To say whatever is needed.

To avoid their embrace.

You are to
negotiate my dowry, Brother.

With his uncle.

The King of Naples; yes.

So must I trade one
love for another?

Leave us.

My lord.

Do you mean me for him?

That too.

What do you mean?

I mean my son,
Giovanni.

His presence in Naples
might be unwelcome.

Ah.

I could have seen
that coming.

The King of Naples feels

that one cannot carry
into one marriage

baggage from the last.

Is your son
baggage to you?

No.

He's the light
of my life.

Well, you could insist.
I will, as must you.

But you must
make the case

for the son of a stable
boy in a royal household.

Listen.

You are Lucrezia Borgia.

You are the
scandal of Italy.

You are also
the envy of Italy.

And soon to be
a princess of Aragon.

Whoever gets in the
way of your happiness

will meet my wrath.

We are the unholy family.

Let him know that.

I fear he knows already.

He will love you,
he will serve you,

and if Naples dares to
take your son from you,

I promise...

it will never know peace again.

Can I get help, please?

Help now!

Yes, my lord!

Did you sleep?

But I dreamed,
Cardinal.

You dreamt without sleeping?

Now that is miraculous.

Call it a waking dream.

Tell me.

I dreamed of
a vast conspiracy

encircling our
beloved Vatican.

It has its roots in
the hills of the Romagna,

in the great families

that would claim
St. Peter's as their own.

And its tendrils spread

like writhing serpents
through the streets of Rome,

breaking inside the
Vatican walls...

where it becomes a
many-headed hydra

and each head wears
a cardinal's hat.

Why don't you
tell me more?

Lucrezia?

Is that my brother?

Yes.

The brother
who loves me?

The same.

Come in then.
See my wedding gown.

God, um -
Come closer, Brother.

My gown.

Do you approve?

The gold is
um... divine.

I - I should leave, Sis -
Why?

Am I ugly,
Brother?

The man who makes that claim
will lose his tongue.

My foot.

It is ungainly?

Too large, perhaps?

Your foot
is beautiful.

You can't tell
from there.

Feel it.

Is this a game?

It is a game

of want
and wanting.

The toes are
splayed a little.

God has made better feet,
I'm sure.

Not that I have found.

You are a connoisseur
of feet.

Yes. And I have found
none better.

My calf.

Is it elegant?

Is it smooth?

What is this game, Sis?

My betrothed
will not bed me.

He will not touch me.

He is a virgin.

You have the means

to change that history,
I'm sure.

Are you sure?

That this body has
the necessary charms?

I am certain.

He has made a vow
to St. Agnes,

the patron saint
of purity -

to remain chaste
until married.

Unwise.

I am a Borgia.

And I feel unloved.

Positively foolish.

You look but don't touch.

My lady.

Ah!

My lady, your fitting.

That will be the dressmakers
to fit my wedding dress.

You must leave us, Brother.
Yes...

For delicacy's sake.

Yes, of course.

Come in!

There was a conspiracy,
Holy Father,

devised by the mistress
of Forli, Catherina Sforza.

But it is a conspiracy
so vast

that we have no doubt
that she had help.

From within these walls?

Indeed.

And have no doubt,
Holy Father,

that he that denies such
a conspiracy existed

was part of the
conspiracy himself.

We had feared
as much.

A vast many-headed
hydra,

spreading from the
families of the Romagna

and each head wears
a cardinal's hat.

The end was plain:

the murder of you
and your entire family.

In the instance of
your most sacred person,

it almost succeeded.

In the instance of your
beloved son, Juan Borgia,

it succeeded
only too well.

And the conspirators?

Are they amongst us here?

They are, Holy Father.

And most shamefully,

I must count myself
amongst their number.

Your honesty is noted.

But you must name names,
Cardinal.

Cardinal Francesco
Todeschini Piccolomini.

Liar!

Accuse yourself,
De Luca

and that perfidious
Orsini!

Cardinal Giovanni
Battista Orsini.

These are false
accusations coming from -

Cardinal Rocca Colonna.

Julius Versucci!

I have been party to no
conspiracy, Your Holiness!

Those cardinals,

those who have betrayed
our sacred trust -

will be stripped
of their offices and titles,

their properties
confiscated

and returned to our
Holy Mother Church.

They will be forbidden entry
through the gates of Rome,

and live under censure
for the rest of their days.

Is this why
you would speak with me?

I who was once you.

You who will become me.

Should I resign myself?

To being a mistress
discarded?

I should be hating you,

not providing
a sympathetic ear.

Advise me then.

Is there another?

Not that I know.

Perhaps it is you,
then.

Something has
changed between us.

I have felt it
for some time.

Does he still love you?

I hope.

Perhaps you'll find,
as I have that...

love deepens,

regardless of whether
you share the same bed.

You mean I may find it
is truly over between us?

Perhaps.

Then you must
state your terms.

Negotiate your exit.

What would you have from him,
if not his passion?

A palace like yours.

That's easy.

The cardinals are
falling like flies.

And...

a cardinal's hat.

For you?

Have you no shame?

For my brother.

Do you think
she'd be happy here?

La Farnese?

So she's to be
banished from your life then?

No.

But a little distance
might be beneficial...

between us.

Have you told
her that?

I did mention it.

And?

She was upset,

but the tears
didn't last long.

I mean,
I think she was...

relieved, maybe,
to be released from us.

Everything has its end.

Whose palace
was this?

Oh...

one of the cardinals
who betrayed me.

It'll take more than
a palace to keep her happy.

Have you spoken
to her?

She told me
that your vigour

had somewhat
diminished.

I told her I couldn't
imagine such a thing.

As I said before,

it's a blessing
in disguise.

Why do you laugh?

Because my life without you

has turned out to be another
blessing in disguise.

We are both blessed then.

Together we're cursed.

Hm...

But apart,

at least I'm at peace.

My God, what a bed.

It would fit
the whole Consistory.

Perhaps it did.

What?

This is a rare pleasure.

Alone together.

We find ourselves becoming
a little agitated.

You should call the guard.

We lack the voice.

Cappretino.

Little goat.

It's been a long time
since you called me that.

Well, every now and
then I whisper it.

But rarely.

Ah no, no,
no, no, no.

You lack the vigour,
remember?

It would appear
no longer.

So the cause was not
the poison, my love.

It would appear not.

You know...

We feel safe with you.

As if we've come home.

These offices
I relinquish willingly.

These estates
I place in the care

of our Holy Mother Church.

This hat...

I now return to the hands
that blessed me with it.

In nomine Patris et Fillii
et Spiritus Sancti.

Amen.

But I would ask
one last blessing

before I leave our
beloved Vatican forever.

Confession.

I would confess to
the pope's ear alone,

and be absolved
of my heinous sins

by the successor
to St. Peter.

Now?
Yes.

This is most irregular.

The business of defrocking
alone will take hours...

Your Holiness,

I have been asked to
effect my retirement

with maximum
and unseemly haste.

I have complied.

If my request is granted,
I will be gone forever.

You need never set
eyes on me again.

Well...

Please...

Please.

We grant this blessing.

No!

With the utmost efficacy.

Cardinal Sforza,
take our place.

Bless me, Your Holiness,
for I have sinned.

And my sins are many.

But the greatest
of them...

is this murder.

Murder?

I must protest
against this outrage!

This hat is red as a
symbol of our willingness

to spill our blood in defence
of our Holy Mother Church!

Whose murder?

A murder yet...

to be committed!

For which the whole world
will grant me forgiveness!

And I return it willingly

since there is
nothing of value -

No residue of honour,
of goodness,

of sanctity
left to defend!

Ah!

Ah!

There will be
rejoicing in the Heavens

as Hell welcomes you
with open arms...

May it lie in the filth

which will be
its deserved home!

I'll gladly die with you.

Ah!

As you sink
into the darkness -

call out His name,

see if He replies.

Or if you must
hear the eternal silence.

Next!

Cardinal Colonna!

This is one endless
confession.

[♪]

Close the door.

God must want us to live.

[♪]

== sync, corrected by elderman ==