Quo Vadis Page #3

for Persia and the East.

Finally, in Corinth,

I learned he was on his way here...

...and that he would come to us

any day now.

Peter? In Rome? Magnificent.

All of us.

To be able to speak with a man

who talked with Christ, our lord.

I saw results of seeds Peter has planted.

Green shoots are sprouting.

There will be a good harvest.

Everywhere, strangers approached

and drew the sign of the fish before me.

And we spoke of the great work ahead.

The work is difficult

and dangerous now, Paul.

Ever since you were tried here,

even though you were acquitted...

...Christians

are under constant suspicion.

I noticed you seemed worried

in the presence of your two guests.

Believe me,

I would have exercised caution.

Though at times, I admit the desire

to cry the message aloud.

But I suppose tactics must be applied

even in the spreading of love and faith.

Be patient, Paul. Your time will come.

Those two vital young men, for instance.

They are Rome.

If we could teach them,

we could teach the world.

Marcus Vinicius?

You are asking for miracles.

I am.

I am, indeed.

There is still nothing I see

that is not perfection.

However, if you're thinking of me,

as you undoubtedly were...

...do I look that much like a fish?

Oh.

It wasn't anything to do with you.

You're too lovely

to be a lonely artist, Lygia.

But then, I did ask you to wait up for me.

- It was merely that I couldn't sleep.

- Nor can I.

I'll tell you what, Lygia.

The night's still young.

This place is unworthy of our first

meeting. Let's go to Petronius' house.

There will be gaiety there

you've never dreamed of.

Dancers, musicians, singers.

The best in Rome.

My uncle's house was built

by the goddess of love herself.

No. No, it's too late, I...

I mean, it's impossible.

Well, we could plan it

more discreetly, perhaps.

What about tomorrow?

You'll come see my triumph, won't you?

Tomorrow, there will be

a feast to tempt all the gods.

No. No, I don't wish

to watch your triumph.

I must go in now.

Good night, commander.

Tell me.

- What is it?

- What?

What is it you see that you don't like?

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted

by what I see, Marcus Vinicius.

- Well, then...

- It's what I hear I don't like.

You see, a man's fame

always brings him fresh enemies.

- Who's been telling you stories about me?

- You have, from your own lips.

Ugly stories

of conquests and bloodshed.

Conquest? But what's conquest?

Only method of uniting

and civilizing the world under one power.

- Have to spill a little blood to do it.

- No.

There's a gentler

and more powerful way of doing that.

Without bloodshed and war.

Without slaves and captives bound

in chains to your triumphal chariots.

There will always be slaves.

Who will do the work?

Paul speaks of a world

where there would be no slaves.

That beggar-faced philosopher...

...shouldn't be stuffing your

luscious little head with such nonsense.

How could I expect you to understand?

I wish you were a slave,

as I first thought.

I'd offer a price for you.

King's ransom for a king's daughter.

And taken me to your estates in Sicily

with all the others?

On a special ship.

What a way for a conqueror

to win a woman.

To buy her like an unresisting beast.

What false security you must have

in your heart and soul.

In your manhood, Marcus Vinicius.

What hidden scorn

you must have for yourself.

You're forgetting

you're a hostage of Rome, aren't you?

Here, you, hostage, come back here.

- No, commander.

- Out of my way.

I guard her, commander.

By whose orders? Who are you?

I am Ursus.

I guarded the king, her father.

I guard her now.

Guard her well, my gray-haired colossus.

Guard her well.

Romance seems to have been

short-lived.

There's always a weapon

to bring down a flighty dove, my friend.

And please, dear lord,

forgive me my anger and my spite.

I do not know what came over me.

It was temptation, perhaps.

A selfish desire

that this man might see your light.

For my sake rather than for his.

And yet I pray that one day,

he shall feel the joy of your love.

I pray with all my heart.

Captain, what's the delay here?

The emperor has not yet appeared

on the balcony.

You will hear the trumpets, commander.

Gods of Rome.

Mighty.

Eternal.

Beneath whose auspices,

Rome rules the world.

Hear us.

We worship you.

We worship you.

Venus...

...goddess of love.

We worship.

Mars, god of war.

We worship.

Juno, goddess of heaven.

We worship.

Jupiter, father of the gods.

bWe worship.

And Nero, his divine son.

They are impatient, Divinity.

They hunger to see you.

They're impatient?

What about my patience?

Oho. A triumph to divert them?

Who diverts me?

I slave, I agonize for them.

I have no privacy.

You are the sun in their heavens.

Does the sun have privacy?

The sun has the night.

They expect me to shine daily, hourly.

And for whom? For the people.

For that foul-smelling rabble.

It's so hot today.

This heat of Rome oppresses me.

It stifles me.

They demand too much.

I tell you, this mob, this mob tortures me.

I hate it second only to Rome itself.

The foul breath of that mob

floats in my house.

In my garden.

I wish...

Oh, I wish...

Your wish, Caesar.

Tell me, that I may execute it.

I wish it had but a single throat,

that mob, that I might cut it.

It could be done

if your wish were a command.

A typical butcher's solution.

Tigellinus would deprive you

of the one thing an artist must have:

- His audience.

- But they irk me, those people.

They irk me.

Do I live for them or do they live for me?

Unfortunately, Caesar, as a ruler,

you must have subjects to rule.

Sheer population is a necessary evil.

It is easy for Petronius to talk,

but the burden is on you.

On the only shoulders in the world

strong enough to bear it.

That's true, isn't it, Petronius?

It's lonely to be an emperor.

It is lonelier still to be a genius.

You're the only one who understands

the complications of my tortured nature.

Is that not a theme for a poem,

Petronius?

It is a theme for an epic, Divinity.

But to write it, you must suffer it.

Yes.

Where is Poppaea?

Where is my empress?

Here, lord. Always at your side.

Come. Petronius, you were right.

I must feel it, know it, live it.

Come, Petronius, attend me closely.

Attend me closely in my ordeal.

Hail Nero, son of Jupiter.

Iook at him, my darling, the emperor.

- Wife killer. Mother killer.

- Quiet, woman, you'll have us all...

Everybody knows it. He's a beast.

Quiet.

No man is a beast.

Iook at him

and know that he is but sick.

Sick in heart and spirit, in his soul.

You were right, Petronius.

How they love me.

How, indeed.

Remember, thou art only a man.

Remember, thou art only a man.

Marcus Vinicius.

Isn't he the one

who came to see Nero yesterday?

An arrogant man. He bears watching.

From what I hear, he might bear

watching at much closer range.

Poppaea, what are you muttering about?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes