All language subtitles for Borgia - 01x02 - Ondata di calore.Unspecified.English.C.orig(1)

Pope Innocent VIII.

In nomine Patris, et Filii...

comprised of
ambitious men, sons
of Rome's ruling families.

Orsini dog!
Colonna whore!

The Pope's
most powerful advisor
is Vice-Chancellor

Rodrigo Borgia.

I have not given up my
hope of a Borgia on
the Spanish throne.

I ask Your Holiness
to replace me as
Bishop of Valencia

with my sainted nephew, Cesare.

There is a question
of Cesare's dubious birth.

No Spaniard, no Borgia bastard
will ever again be Pope.

He draws support
from his married lover,
Giulia Farnese...

Why are you so good at this?

And his family.

Juan...

And Rodrigo has even
greater plans for me.

Cesare...

But I do not want
to be a priest.
I do not have the soul for it.

And Lucrezia.

Who will arrange
a marriage for me?

Cardinal Borgia, your uncle.

Still, Rodrigo
is determined that none
shall forget the name...

I have this sense
of foreboding.

That I will soon die.

You will not die soon.

But five will die
before the summer
heat cools.

Deaths that will change you.

Who is going to die?

That I cannot say.

Tell me.

No. I have
not the power.

You are Bishop, yet you
ignore Church dogma.
Pope Innocent...

- Pray for us.
- What are you doing?

Cesare, he has the fever,
do not touch him.

Use this to
see a doctor,
not for wine.

Pope Innocent has condemned
witchcraft and all Christians
who associate with witches.

Besides, you make us late
for your uncle's banquet.

A toast.

A toast to our guest of honor,

our newest Cardinal,
Giovanni de Medici.

Giovanni de Medici.

between the Borgia,
the Cibo, the Medici
and the Orsini families.

By marriage, by blood,
we are all one family.

Salute.

Salute.

And I toast my dear
sister Clarice,
who is in Heaven,

celebrating the elevation
of her son, Giovanni.

As she also
celebrates her daughter
Maddalena's marriage

to Franceschetto Cibo.

Bravo.

Maddalena, how is
it having the Pope
as your father-in-law?

Tell us, in Florence,
are women allowed
to eat with men?

No.

Well, when I am
Countess of Oliva,

I will insist that
I sit at the same
table as my husband.

Uh, about that.

Your betrothal
to Cherubin de Centelles
has been nulled.

Oh, no. He does
not want me?

Your uncle has made
a better match.
Don Gaspare de Procida.

Son of the Count
of Almenara and Aversa.

Twice as handsome
and twice as rich.

- Oh, my God.
- She has the fever.

Friends.

Dear friends.

As many of you know,
Papa has taken ill,

exhausted from working
day into night,

keeping the peace
between Naples and Milan.

Wait in the library.

I toast my father,
Lorenzo the Magnificent.

Lorenzo.

A song.

Written by Lorenzo.

The civil war which has
raged throughout the
Turkish Empire is over.

Bajazet has defeated
his brother Djem.

A united Muslim army
means those heathens will
once again attack Italy.

Yes, but according
to this report,
after Djem was defeated,

he surrendered to
the Knights of Rhodes.

Ironic, huh?
A Muslim feeling safer with
a Christian than his own kin.

What do the Knights intend to
do with the Shahzadeh?

"Hold Djem at our fortress
in Auvergne

"until such time as a new
Crusade is launched."

Djem, hidden away
in the hinterlands
of France? Wise.

Hardly wise, Brother.

Keeping him out of public view
diminishes his usefulness.

Instead, he should
reside here,
in the Eternal City.

The Lord shall
preserve thee
from all evil.

He shall preserve thy soul.

God will protect us.

We stand before You, Lord,

here where so many pontiffs
rest in eternal peace,

aware more than ever
of our own mortality.

We are all going to die.

We are all going to die.

His Royal Highness,
the Shahzadeh Djem.

Supreme Pontiff of
the Roman Church,
I have brought a gift.

People of Faith, I give you

the Lance of Longinus,

the very blade that
pierced the chest of our
Savior, Jesus Christ.

The Holy Lance.

The Holy Lance.

My name will be
carved in history.

Thank you, Rodrigo.

I do not bite.

Come in.

I asked to see you,
the nephews of my
benefactor Cardinal Borgia,

because, as a stranger
in your city, I thought
you could be my guides.

And, perhaps, even my friends?

Join me?
No. Thank you.

I am on a fast.

Hmm. A health precaution?

A penance.

Well, I am in search
of a sin for which to
be penitent, so...

This fabric from Milan
is absolutely gorgeous.

Lucrezia, you cannot
wear Milanese cloth

the first time
you are presented
to your fiance.

Don Gaspare de Procida
is cousin to King Ferrante
of Naples,

and, given the current
tension between
Naples and Milan,

a dress made
from that material
would cause a war.

Show us another.

Do you constantly
disagree with me out of
malice or mere habit?

Lucrezia.

Your brother Goffredo, is here
with a message which he will
speak only to your ears.

Goffredo.

Goffredo.

How are you?
How is Mother?

Boiling with fever
and begs you
come at once.

Absolutely not. Lucrezia
is busy preparing to meet
her future husband.

I've been denied the sight
of Mother since moving
to the Cancelleria.

If she's fevered,
I must run to her.

We've only just
cleansed this house.

You shan't expose
yourself to more
ill humors.

But, Adriana, the link
between mother and
daughter is sacred.

If my mama were dying,
I would fight the Devil
himself to be by her side.

You see, I'm not
so disagreeable.

You encourage me,
knowing that such a visit
would enrage my uncle.

I'm sorry.
Tell Mama I cannot.
I will not visit her.

Mama will die.

Goffy.

Cultivate this
friendship with Djem. It will
frustrate della Rovere.

Eminence, word from Florence.
Lorenzo de Medici has
succumbed to the fever.

The first death.

Are the streets
of Florence quiet?
So far.

Where is Giovanni?

He is here, in the study.

I knew how infirm
Papa was. I should have
stayed by his side.

He wanted you in Rome
doing God's work,

as he did his entire life.

I will go say Mass
to pray for his soul

and pray as well that peace
within the Italian states will
not perish with Lorenzo.

May God bless
you and your
brothers, Giovanni.

Grieve, my friend.
There is no shame
in a broken heart.

Just before my father died,

the monk, Savonarola,
refused to grant
him absolution.

The thought of Papa
burning in Hell
until the end of time...

A monk cannot condemn a man.
Only God can. God is just.

He will open His arms
to Lorenzo and say,

"You made Florence
a paradise on Earth.

"Come, dear one, and rest."

We must forget our priestly
intentions for tonight

and celebrate the genius
of your father's living.

Sweet love of Jesus.

We should have gone with
Giovanni to Florence,
for his father's funeral.

He did not want us.

You mean he did not want me.

I will be honest, Rome casts
a strange spell upon you.

Not Rome. Wherever I am.
There's always two elements
struggling within me.

Beast versus Archangel.
More often than not,
the beast wins.

A beast has no soul.
You do.

My soul is empty.

Alessandro, I have
a confession to make.
To me?

Have you forgotten?
I, like you, am not
yet a priest.

No, but you are a drunkard
and will therefore
keep my confidence.

More likely, I will
simply forget.
So speak freely.

I am consumed by
the fever of envy.

My brother. Our friend
de Medici. Their
lives are in motion.

Mine is as stagnant
as the garbage
in Montesarchio.

You are Bishop of Valencia.
But that is not enough.

I yearn for what Juan has.

His dukedom?
Or Rodrigo's affection?

Both.

More.

Something else.

What does Professor
Decio teach?

Unlike lust
but much like gluttony,

envy becomes a sin
only if you act
upon the impulse.

But how can I not be
envious? Juan will achieve
greatness in his life.

So will you.
By a different route.

Cesare, contemplate
the other side
of your instincts.

You comfort the sick,
the afflicted.

When your emotions are in
check, your presence is
calming, nurturing, spiritual.

Regardless of your desires,
perhaps you are a priest.

And if your
soul is empty,
replenish it.

Make restitution
to those you have
sinned against.

Marcantonio, we must talk.

Fucking turd.

Remove yourself from Colonna
property or I will put the
next one through your skull.

Marcantonio, I've wronged you.

Forgive me for
my wretched sins.

"Who can forgive sins
but God alone?"

Am I correct,
priest? Run or die.

I am ready to die.

If my dying ends
the feud between
the Colonna and the Borgia,

then go ahead and kill me.

Enjoy your freedom, Catalan,
for when Pope Innocent
lies in his tomb

your entire family shall
be shackled to the walls of
the lowest, darkest dungeon

inside Castel Sant'Angelo.

So much for
replenishing my soul.

Madonna, I bring you
some small tokens
of my deep affection.

Pearls from the sea.

Gold from the mountains.

Perfume from the air.

And yet, I see that
all the elements pale
beside your loveliness.

- Brother, we must talk.
- Hurry, this is important.

Yes, Juan. I'm sure
you're on a mission
of utmost urgency.

There. Christoforo Castanea,
Count of Castel Leone.

Last night, he had a secret
meeting with Mustafa Pasha.

An impoverished count
shares a drink with the
Turkish ambassador. So?

Padishah Bajazet is offering
300,000 ducats to the
man who kills his brother.

Castanea has a title,
but no property.

I believe he plots to
assassinate Djem.

You will help me
discover the truth,
foil the conspiracy.

Since when have you been
interested in Turkish
politics? Or the truth?

Cesare, I know your value,
even if our uncle does not.

Together we can triumph.

Rodrigo will bless us both.

Djem is more valuable to Rome,
and to us Borgia, alive.

Then quickly devise a plan.

Simple. We must
befriend Castanea.

When Innocent expires,

we fear the next pope
will bellyache for
another Crusade.

And use Djem as
a rallying point
against Bajazet.

We Borgia would do
anything to keep Djem
from gaining power.

That is why we have him
under lock and key.

Worry not.

Go on. Go.

Why do you say worry not?

The Padishah has
hired me to...
Dispose of his brother.

Excellent.

How?

I am to poison the well
which supplies the water
to the Apostolic Palace.

Poison the well.

But then would
you not also be
poisoning the Pope

and all the clerics
who live and work there?

His Holiness is almost
dead anyway. As for the
rest, good riddance.

Good riddance, indeed.

The hour is late.

No. The room
belongs to you.

You have already paid for...
We pay nothing.

Our mother owns this inn.

Thank you.

For everything.
The ale, the women,
the friendship.

Christoforo, we thank you
doubly for taking us
into your confidence.

We know that your fortunes
are low, but no nobleman
should be without a valet.

Our man Rudolfo will serve you
till the end of your days.

For what reason
could you possibly be
wearing that frown?

Well, go on.
Were the flowers not
to your satisfaction?

The wine not to your taste?

Don Gaspare...
His demeanor,
his arrogance.

His interest in
me is purely as
a mirror of himself.

Boys mature more
slowly than girls.

But I am now a woman
and I want a real man,
not a preening child.

I refuse to wed Don Gaspare.

Silly girl, you must.
The documents have been
signed by your uncle.

I will not be forced
into wedlock with
that self-loving peacock.

I am a Borgia.
I deserve better.

No. You deserve
whatever blessing
His Eminence gives you.

That is not the face
of La Bella. That is
the face of Hell.

Your niece.

She refuses to marry
Don Gaspare.

For what reason?

She finds him undesirable
and demands a more
handsome husband.

Don Gaspare is one
of the finest-looking
young men in Europe.

More importantly, this match
has been sanctioned
by King Ferdinand of Spain.

My love, I do
not have time
for trivialities.

Please, solve this problem.

Use your wiles to
convince the girl.

Beg pardon, Your Eminence.

Word from the Vatican.
His Holiness is mere
hours from death.

The fever
accelerates. As do the
pains in his abdomen.

An old scar on
his right leg has
broken open.

I have done all I can.

I've heated the room,
sealed the windows to
sweat the fever out.

There is no hope.

You are absolutely certain?

When Innocent dies,
the peasants will go
on a rampage.

Shall we fortify our palace?

Definitely.

Whichever cardinal
controls the treasury

controls whichever
cardinal sits next on
Saint Peter's throne.

If Orsini does,
then Borgia does.

Orsini must double
the Papal Guard at
Castel Sant'Angelo.

No. It would be
better to have our
own men in place.

We must also station
our Bravia around the Vatican.

Tell Juan to arm
the consigliere
and move Djem

to the secret room
above the Sistine.

I want a shooter
on every window.

You, take five men
to the roof.
I am in charge, brother.

Go, Goddamn you, now.
Yes, sir.

She says I carry myself
with an air of importance?
Of course, I do.

I am a de Procida.

I shall rule Almenara
and Aversa one day.

Yes, but do you wish to
share your throne with
a woman who abhors you?

As my mother does my father.

A romantic gesture
will warm Lucrezia's heart.

I gave her pearls, gold...

Wealth is not romance.

Romance is for fools and poets.

Romance is the precursor
of seduction.

Have you yet tasted a woman?

I assure you, Lucrezia is
ready to become one.

But a woman needs romance,
a woman craves seduction.

For the sake of your
own desires, woo her.

Lessen your swagger

and you will find yourself
with ample reason to swagger.

You are to go to
the chapel at once.

No.
Forgive the intrusion.

The city is in turmoil,
yet I could not stop
thinking about you.

No, this is improper.

Please, only one
moment, signora,
the length of a heartbeat.

Until the wondrous day
when I may kiss your lips.

We must
defend this wall, here.
This wall is more...

Look who I found
skulking about.

Cricket, what brings you here?

You two must come.
Mama is dying.

We cannot both go, not now.

Look, our defenses
are in place.
There's naught to do but wait,

and you are more
the healer than I.

When Castanea makes his
move against Djem,
you will let me know?

Of course.

Do you want me to
come with you?
No.

Make sure the Bravia
on the roof are not drunk.

"We bequeath
the 148,000 ducats
in the papal treasury

"to our beloved son,
Franceschetto."

"We bestow unto
Cardinal Giuliano
della Rovere

"the keys to the
Castel Sant'Angelo."

"My dear brothers,
I beseech you all to elect
someone better than me

"as my successor."

Signed Innocent VIII,
of that name, July 19th,

1492.

July the 19th.

He changed his will
five days ago?

What difference does that make?

For the past five
days, he has barely
known his own name.

There are witnesses
that will confirm his
healthy state of mind.

I, for one.

If we do what Innocent
asks, the papal treasury
will be depleted.

He begs us to elect
someone better than him

yet does not leave
the poor soul
a single ducat.

Borgia is already
imagining himself
wearing the tiara.

There will be no money
for whoever is next,
you fishmonger.

Be silent, Catalan.

You want the Castel
Sant'Angelo ruled by
this Genoan sodomite?

Giuliano.

Stop it.

What is this?

Such behavior
in the presence
of the Pope?

Desist!

Each of you has benefited
from my father's reign.

If a man's last request
is sacred, then a Pope's
must be doubly so.

If della Rovere
takes possession of
Castel Sant'Angelo,

we Borgia are doomed.

We must keep
Innocent alive until
this will is broken.

And we must secure
the papal treasury.

How?

By moving the gold and silver
from the Castel Sant'Angelo
to a secret location.

You spoke to Lucrezia?
She refused?

Yes.

Excellency, help me.

Mama.

Cesare, save my family.

You need fresh air.

Has the doctor...

They say we're too far gone.

Where is Lucrezia?

She will be here soon.

Rodrigo?

Goffy, I need you
to fetch someone.

Yes, sir.

I do not wish
to impose but you
sit alone, as if lost.

We've had our disagreements,
but the difference in
our ages is not great.

And more importantly,
I know the joy
and, yes, fear

of a wedding engagement.

I am lost.

At first, I found
Don Gaspare repulsive.

With his head held
so high I thought he
might topple backwards.

But now, part of
me is taken by him.

But I'm so ugly, how can
Don Gaspare possibly be proud
that I will be his wife?

No. He agreed to marry me
solely for my dowry.

Nonsense.
You are a beauty
in the making.

And we women,
though we have
no rights or privileges,

can use for high purpose
our virginity

and later, our sexuality.

Oh, Lord, what a thing to say.

Are you shocked
because you've never
heard such words,

or do you pretend to be shocked

because you know
deep in your heart
that I speak true?

Perhaps we shall be friends.

Papa, food will restore you.

What can we do, Dottore?

I have a way to
nourish His Holiness.

What better cure
than mother's milk?

Castanea, he's on his way
to the Vatican?

Yes. I will go tell
your brother.
No.

I will take care
of Castanea myself.

Signor, help me.

There will be
a place for you,
by my side

in Heaven.

Grazie.

Grazie.

If I save your
family, Excellency,

you must swear that you
will use your influence
with the Pope

to lift the ban on
witchcraft, which is
not Devil worship,

but natural,
God-given remedies.

Yes, yes, I will speak
to His Holiness.

But if my family dies,
you will die as well.

Juan?

No.

Judas.

We are a planet of Judases.

I've hired a doctor,
an expert in the latest
medical methods.

A Jew?

A Jew inside the Vatican?
Borgia, this is a sacrilege.

Whatever can be
done must be done.

What in the name
of the risen Christ
are you doing?

Curing your family.

Excreta?

From swine.

You're covering
my mother in shit?

You ignorant cunt.

My family should be
treated with potable gold,
with aqua regia, ambergris,

not the feces of pigs.

If your high-brow
cures work,
why send for me?

Excreta pulls the toxin
out and has many
other healing powers.

I, myself, bathe
weekly in shit and
my skin is flawless.

You will cure them, witch,
or I will feed you to pigs.

There you are,
one ducat each for the use
of your son's blood.

No! No!

God have mercy on me.

No, I do not think He will.

Down here, you are
as far away from God's
mercy as any man can be.

But you may yet
be blessed by
Borgia mercy

if you reveal
who else is involved
in this conspiracy.

Please. Let me go.
Let me go, Juan.

Give me a name.

Juan. Juan.
Juan. Juan. Juan.

Juan, let me go.

Give me a name.

Juan. Juan.

Tell me who is involved!

I will. I will.
Come back, I will.

All three boys are dead.

But did the cure work?

Oh, well.

Pay the Jew in full.

Guardian of our
souls and bodies,
healer of the sick,

helper of those
in their agony,
pray for us.

Saint Michael the
Archangel, guardian of
our souls and bodies,

healer of the sick,
helper of those in...

Cesare.

Mama.

Goffredo.
The fever has
been broken.

Thanks be to God...

And to you.

You have worked
a miracle, Cesare.

Miracles are myths.

This was the magic of science.

Ottaviano? Brother?
Why will Ottaviano not wake?

The second death.

No.

No.

I beg you. No.

You were to cure all three.

I warned you.

Guards, seize the witch.

When you looked into
the future, did you see
yourself as the third death?

A curse on you.
Eternal damnation.

Our Father
who art in Heaven,
hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done on Earth
as it is in Heaven.

Give us this day our
daily bread, and forgive
us our trespasses,

as we forgive those
who trespass against us,

and lead us not
into temptation, but
deliver us from evil.

Amen.

Blessed Joseph,
patron of the dying,

I recommend the soul
of this faithful servant,
Pope Innocent,

in his agony
that under thy
protection,

he may be preserved
from the wiles of the Devil,

and that he may
be found worthy to
enter everlasting joy.

Through the same
Christ Our Lord. Amen.

Water?

No, thank you, Eminence.

Drink.

I said no.

No. Stop. Stop. Stop.

The water is poisoned.

Now how would you know that?

Old friend.

Rise, Franceschetto.

Such behavior is unbecoming
for the son of a Pope.

I beg you, Juan, save me.

You must tell your
uncle that I was working
in secret with you

to uncover the conspiracy,
pretending to join
Mustafa Pasha and Castanea.

Of course.
I would be happy to
lie on your behalf.

Especially if the
300,000 ducats you received
from the Turkish ambassador

found its way
into the Borgia
bank account.

I will send the money
over at once.

And your father's
previous will?

Restored.

May I go?

Mmm.

Franceschetto.

There is one more
insignificant item.
Your wife.

Maddalena de Medici.

I will be away
from my home
tomorrow evening.

Excellent.

Who knows, Franceschetto,
your father may yet recover

and then you can cut my throat.

I want you there tomorrow
to watch Castanea die.

A terrible crime

has been attempted
on the Blessed Person
of our Supreme Pontiff

and a foreign prince,
who is a guest in our city.

A crime made worse,

for the perpetrator
conspired with the heathens

who defile the name
of Christ in the Holy Land.

Let Christoforo Castanea
be damned for an eternity.

And Juan Borgia,
praised by all
true believers.

Die, die, die.

Die, die, die.

The fourth death.

Witches.

Heathens.

This sickness is a curse,

which a witch has put on me.

Destroy...

Advocate, where is the will?

Destroy...

No. No, no,
stop, you imbecile.

Eminence?

According to legend,
this lance gave
supernatural power

to Constantine the Great,
Justinian, Charlemagne.

The Colonna have
placed their Bravi
on the Ponte Adriano

and move towards Ponte Sisto.

We must depart at once
or we will be trapped
this side of the Tiber.

Today is the anniversary
of my brother's death.

I am haunted by the
thought of him dying
alone, in exile,

whilst I remained in Rome.

How often will you
torture yourself?

If you had left the city,
you'd never have
been allowed to return.

I will not leave here now

until I have seen
that the Pope is dead.

I am surrounded by flames.

I am surrounded by flames.

Surrounded by flames.

Innocent VIII of that
name, Supreme Pontiff of
the one true church,

the first among men,
the height and summit
of the human race

moribundus, mortuus.

Giovanni Battista Cibo,
Giovanni Battista Cibo,

Giovanni Battista Cibo.

The fifth, the final death.

No, not the final one.

The peasants, believing they,
as the children of God,

are the heirs to the wealth
of their Holy Father,

will steal whatever they can.

Since Roman lust for plunder
is never satisfied,

the mob will attack
the palaces of every
cardinal in Rome.

Soon they will come here.

As has been true
since the beginning,

the value of a human
life is worth far less
than its weight in gold.

We must depart.