The Agony and the Ecstasy Page #3

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I have recovered the Papal States...

for the Church!

Every city, every village,

every foot of ground.

And I will stand no interference

from your master, or anyone else.

The King of France wishes

Your Holiness every success...

...in your enterprise.

- Yes, and spies on me...

in my own court, stirs up my

enemies throughout Italy...

and even boasts in private

that he will put a Frenchman...

on the throne of Peter and before

long make me his chaplain!

But His Majesty entertains nothing

but veneration for Your Holiness.

His Majesty called

me anti-Christ...

that only a stick on my back

would keep me in order.

Let him learn that

I too carry a stick.

Let him learn that I am the Pope!

The audience is over.

Buonarroti.

I am glad, my son, to see you

here in Rome and at work...

even though I had declared a holiday.

I commend such zeal.

I recall the last time I gave

you a commission...

you ran from me as though

I had the pox.

And Your Holiness will

also recall the reason.

When I applied for payment,

you had me driven from this palace...

...as though I had the pox.

- Silence!

You will speak only when

I give you permission!

And then you will

not speak of money!

During my campaign

in the Romagna...

I found time to do some reading.

I didn't know you

were a poet, Buonarroti.

"On Rome in the Pontificate

of Julius, the Second.

A Sonnet."

"Here helms and swords

are made of chalices:

the blood of Christ is

sold so much the quart."

Recognize those words?

Or these?

"He who wears the Papal crown,

is my Medusa still."

I have been compared to Lucifer...

Beelzebub, the Anti-Christ,

but never before Medusa!

This presumptuous Florentine

should be handed over...

to the hangman of Sant'Angelo.

This presumptuous Florentine

has been described...

as the master artist

of the world.

Certainly a better artist

than he is a poet.

Well?

Are you dumb?

I was waiting Your Holiness's

permission to speak.

You have it!

I was angry when I wrote that.

It was...

when you hadn't

paid me for the...

Also, you have been as free

with your tongue as your pen!

You have called me a conqueror.

A free booter!

When I modelled you in Bologna,

you told me yourself...

to put a sword in your hand.

And if I had not taken the sword...

if I had not become a conqueror...

there would be no Church,

no pontiff...

no hope of peace for mankind.

And, I may add,

no patron of architecture...

sculpture and painting and therefore

no comfortable living for artists.

I don't ask for comforts,

Holiness. Only work.

Good. I have work for you.

I have already begun it.

The tomb that is to

make me famous?

Do you really believe that?

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