All language subtitles for The.Borgias.S03E05.720p.en

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Previously
on the Borgias...

Our little pack of wolves.

Tell them, if they pledge
their swords to me,

the Borgia estates
I will divide among them.

Your mistress deludes
herself if she believes

she can be victor
over the Pope of Rome.

The papal armies of
Rome barely exist.

The articles of war
demand the papal army

at full strength number:
10,000 men-at-arms.

You have less
than half that.

Ambassador of the Court

of his Highness
Louis XII of France.

The king is a man
without fault.

Perhaps, were you not
to meet his wife...

He wants an annulment.
Uh-huh.

This is where the game turns.

What happened before
belongs in the past.

You can go off and
love your husband,

and I can go off and
find myself a bride.

I'm sorry.
I cannot.

Maybe our love has to
be more of the soul.

Your daughter
is married to my kinsman.

And she has a son already

whose father is unknown.

To separate a
mother from her child...

I am careful of myself
and my family.

Your sister marries Naples.

What don't you
marry France?

You hold the fate
of Rome in your hands.

My Lord Gonzaga.
Please join us.

My lord had business in Rome.

He requested an audience.
As do I.

Consider
the bitch's insanity

my contribution to your
lady's war on Rome.

You request from us
a decree of annulment.

The circumstances are
grave and constant.

Infidelity.

With whom?

His Holiness the Pope of Rome.

[♪]

♪ The Borgias 3x05 ♪
The Wolf and the Lamb
Original Air Date on May 12, 2013

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

[♪]

You must be so excited
to see your husband.

Indeed.

He prepares our quarters.

Which will have
no need of a cradle.

Sh...
Shh...

No no no,
Lucrezia -

I will not cry father,

this King will not
see my tears.

This marriage
was your choice.

It was.

And I still
love my husband.

I would not have our love
poisoned with politics.

We will love him
as our own, Lucrezia.

You'll be all right.

Gonzaga...

He is not with us?

No, but he made
a contribution.

Of his own
special kind.

Madame, you know you're
going to have to leave us.

Is that what you want?

No, but your husband...

muttering scandal.

You are going to have
to go back to him.

But I cannot.
Why not?

Because...

I am the lily of the valley.

And the King hath brought me
to His chambers.

Scandal may be the
prerogative of kings...

But we are
the Pope of Rome.

We have a church to run.

Let him kiss me with
the kiss of his mouth.

Must you always
quote scripture?

I could exhaust myself

in an account of the Borgia
Pope's licentiousness.

But that would be boring.

Can licentiousness
ever be boring?

It can be tedious
in the extreme.

As His Holiness
might soon discover.

Tell us what you are proposing.

A union.

Of Italian families.

Vitelli, Colonna,
Baglioni, Orsini.

Like the fasci
of the Caesars.

Together, we would
be unbreakable.

And all that. Under you?

A woman?

I propose myself.

Feel free to propose
yourself, Roberto.

But I have the arms,
the cannon, the castle.

And, unlike you,

my hatred of the Borgia
Pope is public already.

Common knowledge.

This Pope has
an army too -

We have all seen it at work.

I dispelled it from
beneath these walls.

His son Juan Borgia -

His son,
Cesare Borgia

is nothing like
his brother.

He has vigour, I admit.

But does his father
trust him enough

to grant him
the Papal army?

No, he sends him to France.

So father fights with son,
like two bears in a pit.

And this,
believe me,

this is our moment.

So be with me,
my family, my arms...

Or against me.

Her rhetoric is persuasive.

As is her plan.

All roads lead to Rome.

And pass through the Romagna.

Yes Baglioni, yes.

but what if it
is just rhetoric?

What she threatens
means war Orsini.

Perhaps war with
more than Rome.

The Pope's daughter
married Naples.

His son journeys to France.

I say we keep
our co5nsel.

Until he returns...

My Lord Borgia...

You look quite sober
for a Duke.

And you look quite priestly,
for a King.

The King is hunting.

And please do not
take it amiss.

There are diplomatic
niceties to observe.

Even for the son
of a Pope.

The bastard son...

of a Borgia pope.

For His love
is better than wine.

Oh but now, he needs...

he needs sleep.

For the wolf shall lie
down with the lamb.

And the leopard shall
lie with the goat...

And a little child
shall lead them...

You will find a baby

wrapped in swaddling clothes...

Lying in a manger.

[♪]

Shh... shh...

[♪]

Ah,
Signor Machiavelli.

Good Morning.

I heard you had
business in Avignon -

Sadly, as you come, we go.

Does Florence have an
interest in France?

Florence has an
interest in everything.

So, tell me...

what do you think
of this one?

Forsake the
colourful display.

Wear the simple black satin.

Really?
Why?

They have never
met a Riario,

or a Medici,
let alone a Borgia.

Italian wealth unsettles them.

As much as they want it,
it offends their martial nature.

Hmm...
Well...

Black satin it is then.

Keep it black.

As you do so well.

Do you have advice on anything
other than presentation?

But presentation
is everything.

This King desires
more than Naples.

He has an equal
fondness for Milan.

Ah...

But I didn't say that.
No.

No, you said black.

Has your heart ever
been sick, Micheletto?

Some would doubt that I even
have a heart, my Lady.

Well unfortunately, I do.

And mine is weeping.

Can you cure it?

You will be with your
husband soon enough.

It's not weeping for my husband.

It is weeping for my son.

Your brother tells me this King
has forbid you see him yes?

And how do I make him
change his mind, Micheletto?

You will find a way.

Lady Lucrezia Borgia -

Duchess of Bisceglie!

There they are...

Come, let me help.

I missed you!

Safe trip?

Yes, thank you.

So this is Naples.

You must call it home.

Will calling it home
make it so?

Your Royal Highness...

My lady.

You are the Duchessa Gonzaga

and you will always remain so.

You have to return
to your husband.

Quench any hint
of scandal between us -

You've been here
too long Madam.

The Pope is sad because
his children have left him -

No, Madam you are not...

you are not listening to me -

But that sadness may
soon be put to rest.

How so?

I am with child,
Your Holiness.

Your duty is to return
to your husband -

And the child is not his.

The fruit of my womb will
be the fruit of your loins.

You imply this child
is ours -

I am sure it is.
As is my husband.

We haven't shared
a bed for a year.

Oh, this is madness -
Wonderful madness.

A madness worthy
of the Song of Solomon.

You say he knows?

He asked me to perform an act -

so heinous and so bloody -

that I could not bear
to contemplate it -

He asked you to
murder the child?

Our child.

So I shall bear you a son,
and you will be sad no longer.

No...

For the King hath brought
me to his chambers...

Yes, and the angel
said unto her,

fear not for thou hast
found favour unto God.

And, behold, thou shalt
conceive in thy womb

and bring forth a son.

It is the French custom,
Duke Valentino,

to await their
Highnesses' attention,

before bowing low
before them.

Is the Queen
still in residence?

Of course.

The same queen

for whom I carry the
Papal Brief of Annulment?

Not on your person, surely?

In my back pocket.

I shall take care not
to bow too low then.

Otherwise the queen
might see her destiny...

...protruding from
my bastard Borgia arse.

Presenting
the Duke of Valentinois,

and the ambassador
of the Holy See,

His Excellency
Cesare Borgia.

Once a Cardinal, I believe.

Indeed I was,
Your Highness.

And now a Duke.
Please explain.

Well, I found the need,
Madame, to divorce myself

from my bride,
the Holy Mother Church.

Ah. Can it be done
that easily?

With difficulty.

And not without
soul-searching.

But with the help of a Papal
Brief, anything is possible.

Well, you are noble now,
after a fashion.

You may kiss my hand.

And you may kiss my cheek.

In the true
French manner.

You are in search of
a bride, I believe?

Among my ladies in waiting?

Carlotta D'Aragona
or Charlotte D'Albret -

or...
no, not for you.

If you were
to return to your husband...

Then I must murder
this child -

No...

we would afford
you every support -

in the confinds that are
appropriate to your condition.

Your chambers are more
than appropriate -

No, that is impossible.

We were thinking perhaps -

What?

A Convent.

With the Sisters.

And that is impossible.

I am the Lily of the Valley.

And the King has
taken me to his chambers!

The wedding of Alfonso
D'Aragona and Lucrezia Borgia

was more than just a union,
of body and soul.

It was a restoration,
of historic contacts

between Rome and Naples,

between the Vatican and Spain.

So let us raise our glasses,

to the falling
of the French winter

and to the coming
of the true Italian spring.

To harmony between
our states...

And to this new family,

that we welcome into
our bosom, as our own.

I have a child,
Your Highness,

who must someday
hear those words.

A child, you say?

I seem to remember
one, yes.

How odd.

And is this child
your husband's?

If he is mine, he is
my husbands, surely.

We would welcome any
fruit of your union.

Meanwhile, all other
fruit is best forgotten.

As if it never existed.

So let us drink,
once again,

to the harmony
between our states.

Harmony!

To this family, that
we welcome as our own.

This Queen is
actually quite comely.

But barren.

The King will be
rid of her.

I am aware you come here

bearing one, quite
significant, gift.

And I am aware that this gift
will not be given cheaply.

It may not, Archbishop,
be given at all.

Then, I would propose
myself

as a facilitator
in this matter.

You need
a well-borne bride.

The least of my needs.

Then let me guess
the others.

A French Duchy for the
newly-made Duke deValentino?

One of the more ancient titles,
to banish the arriviste odour?

Ah, do I smell, then?

Only of expensive
Italian perfume.

The Order of the
Golden Rose, perhaps?

The most prestigious the
French King can bestow?

That would indeed be welcome.

And...

French support for your
father's Italian adventures?

What I need most of all,
Cardinal,

is an army.

An army?

Horse, cannon, infantry,
savoliere lancers.

An army.

An army that can
cut through Italy

like a knife through butter.

You called me Cardinal.

I did indeed.

A little premature,
perhaps, Archbishop.

But a Papal Brief
is not the only gift...

in my gift...

Is this what you
French call dancing?

[♪]

Your Highness.

Not her.

She is properly noble.

For you, the bastard child
of a minor aristocrat.

You are too kind,
Madame...

I am.

My husband has often
remarked upon the very fact.

Your husband is also kind.

My husband smells.
Of horse manure, and the hunt.

If you could persuade
him to bathe more often,

I might find you
a better bride.

I will do my utmost,
Madame.

And if he comes to you
smelling of roses,

my reward is?

A Duchess, perhaps.

Legitimate, maybe.

Here, try this one,

Charlotte D'Albret.

She hates me.

She must.
She recommended you to me.

Ah, so she hates
you too?

She hates us both.

Hardly a reason for
courtship, surely.

But I come with some
admirable qualities.

So I have heard.

And what do you demand of
marriage, Cesare Borgia?

A title.
An heir. A dowry.

What about
everlasting love?

Of course. That too.

How could I forget?

What do you ask of it,
Charlotte D'Albert?

A child.

I would have a husband

whose physique promises
he is handsome.

And what of everlasting love?

I'm glad you reminded me.
That too.

But Rome.

I am not sure
I could live in Rome.

All that heat,
that conspiracy.

You will not have to.

Are we married already?

They went that way -

Should I care?

The noble hunts the boar.

The peasant scratches
the grass.

But they both must eat,
surely.

They must.

You should mind
where he grazes.

It is just grass...

Those ferns.

They hide the Galerina.

This tiny bolus
could kill a horse.

You have a use for it?

I have a use for everything.

Some kill, some cure.

Each has its moment.

On your way, my lady...

Kill that boar...

Tell us.

She is not with child.

So...

She is deranged?

Entirely without reason?

She is deranged.

But not without reason.

She was with child.

The child was cut from her.
Most cruelly.

Her womb is scarred
forever.

And the event
has unhinged her.

So what is to be done?

For her body,
or her mind?

For her soul.

Rest.

Tranquillity.

Prayer.

Have you ever had a child,
Micheletto?

No, my lady.
I have none.

But if you had?

Then I would bind him to me
with hoops of steel.

And I would love them
till death and beyond.

And I would make all tremble
who tried to come between us.

So you have a heart.

I must have.

It is the thought
of the child

being kept from you,
it's mother,

that makes it break.

Bullseye!
Yes!

If, God forbid,
this King were to die,

who would succeed him?

Your husband?

He is but a cousin,
on the mother's side.

This King is strong,
My Lady.

His father
lived a long life.

He will be with us
for a long time.

Until my son
is a boy no longer.

That's why I'm the king!

So, you can free me
of this wife of mine?

Your Highness, I would
do anything to free you.

In return for the annulment -

Charlotte D'Albert is
yours if you desire it.

I do.

The Duchy also is yours.

The Order of the Golden
Rose, yours also.

But, as to the matter
of an army,

For an invasion of Milan,
I would hazard.

Do you read our thoughts?

Before one thinks
of them Your Highness.

This young man
is clairvoyant.

The last French invasion
ended in disaster.

For all concerned.

Maybe if the next was
under Italian leadership...

Yours, I presume.

With the blessing of the
Pope of Rome, of course.

And he would give it?

He would sever
his ties with Naples?

And with Spain?

I would make sure,
Your Highness, that he did.

My God.

What you propose

could shake the foundations
of the Italian city states.

Perhaps.

But it would give you Milan.

And it would
give you an army.

I would have your advice,
Archbishop D'Amboise -

Well you can call him
Cardinal D'Amboise.

Cardinal D'Amboise.

I think I know
your advice.

You!

You came like a Greek,
bearing gifts.

May that shrew you are to marry
suffocate you with her bile.

May she bear you
a dwarf, a succubus.

And may you rot in
that circle of hell

reserved for
the Borgia family.

There is no hell.
No heaven either.

This world is what
we make of it.

Forgive me, if my purpose here
was to remind you of that fact.

Bitch.

So this is the beast
they would betroth me to...

Don't be too hasty.

The negotiations are
at a delicate stage.

For the pleasure of
witnessing that scene alone,

my answer would be...

Yes...

Can you promise me
more of them?

Mushrooms.
Oh!

You frightened me.

I've been charged with
your safety, my lady.

It was your empty room
that frightened me.

Ah...

You wish to do some cooking?

Call it husbandry.

Galerina.

You would poison a whole
dinner table with this.

Do wish us all to die?

Not us all of us.
No.

Then be more specific.

Bide your time.

It will come.
Trust me.

Please.

[♪]

[♪]

I must eat,
Your Holiness.

This child will be a Hector,
or nothing at all.

Made of good Roman meat
and Spanish blood.

Maybe a Helen.

No.
A boy.

His Holiness deserves
nothing less.

You must sleep.

You haven't slept in days.

[♪]

These Sisters are from a house,
beyond the hills of Rome.

You will be safe there.

You will sleep there.

Sisters -
My beloved!

It's for your own good.

For the good
of your eternal soul.

No!

No! No!

The negotiations
are concluded.

Ah.

Fifty thousand ducats
from your father.

And the estates
in the Auvergne.

Is it to your satisfaction?

You are to my
satisfaction, Madame.

As are you to mine.

And all this is
in return for?

Only me, I'm afraid.

Ah...

I am being robbed.

But happily robbed.

Very happily.

There is of course the issue
of your maidenhead.

My maidenhead?

Are you a virgin,
Madame?

I was my Lord.

Until I met you.

[♪]

Oh!

[♪]

[♪]

For the wolf shall lie
down with the lamb -

And a little child
shall lead them -

[♪]

[♪]

Bianca!
Bianca!

You will find the baby
wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Oh, please...

You will find the baby
wrapped in swaddling clothes.

...lying...
...lying in a manger.

What have you done?

Bianca!

Pray with me...
Pray with me...

Leave us, say nothing.

Not a word.
Yes, Cardinal.

Let me handle this.

Love suffers long,

and is kind;

love envies not;

love vaunts not itself,
is not puffed up...

...does not behave rudely,
does not seek its own.

Is not provoked.

Thinks no evil.

Does not rejoice in inequity
but rejoices in truth.

Bares all things.

Hopes all things.

Endures all things.

[♪]

[♪]

[♪]

[♪]

Tell me about love,
my husband.

Love suffers long,
and is kind.

Love envies not.

Is there one you have loved?

Yes.

Is this one close to you?

Yes.

Is it me then?

Yes.

You lie to comfort me.

Because you leave tomorrow?

Yes.

And I love you for it.

For a Papal Brief of annulment,

a statement from your
wife will be required.

Let His Holiness
write it down.

From her own
adulterous lips.

And then I can return
to Mantua,

and leave this
Roman swamp -

His Holiness has no
knowledge of her whereabouts.

A suicide...

And God forgive the man
who drove her to it.

Beg forgiveness,
Lord Gonzaga.

Beg forgiveness,
on your knees

for the ice that
resides in your heart.

You were a Cardinal once.

I was a bishop, too.

And why the change?

I lost my faith.

In God?

I woke up one morning
and I realized...

He is not in His heaven.

And the world will
not change,

if I do nothing
to change it.

[♪]

After him!

Wait...

What does the boar fear?

More than this arrow?

I know not.

The pool.

My uncle Ferrante
had it built.

Stocked with lampreys,
flesh eating eels.

For the ones he hated the most.

An original idea.

Nothing original about it.

He came across
the idea in Seneca.

Yes, I have heard
of him.

Or maybe it was Cicero?

Watch this part,
when the eel...

No!

[♪]

Uncle!

Highness!

Dear God.

For God's sake!

Oh, my Lord!

Get him out of there!

I would avert your eyes,
if possible.

I see nothing but slime.

Get him out.
Get some rope!

[♪]

[♪]

[♪]

[♪]

Should I weep,
Micheletto?

For yourself my lady,
no.

But for this King,
perhaps...

Do you read books,
my lady?

Have you heard of
a man named Seneca?

A little.

Did he write of
the pool of lampreys?

Indeed he did.

Vedius Pollio,
friend of Augustus,

stocked a pool by
his villa in Naples.

Hm...

Should I bring my
child here, Micheletto?

Into this theatre
of cruelty?

Well at least now,
my lady,

the choice
is your own.

[♪]

[♪]

== sync, corrected by elderman ==