 Screen Directors Playhouse, Stars, Douglas Fairbanks, Joyce McKenzie, Production, Prince of Foxes, Director, Henry King. This is the Screen Directors Playhouse, the Thursday night feature on NBC's All-Star Festival of Comedy, Music, Mystery, and Drama. Brought to you by RCA Victor, world leader in radio, first in recorded music, first in television, and the makers of Anison for fast relief from the pain of headache, neuritis, and neuralgia. Tonight the Screen Directors Playhouse is pleased to present the story of a stirring history. Here now for the first time on the air is our adaptation of Prince of Foxes, starring Douglas Fairbanks as Orsini, with Joyce McKenzie as Camilla. Italy, 1500. Not a single state, but many states crammed into the Mediterranean boot. Italy, 1500, thrust howling into a state of perpetual warfare. And over the bloodiest of battles floats the banner of the bull, the ensign of César Borgia, César Borgia, whose mailed fists reach out from the court of Rome and crush what lies before them. Maps, gentlemen, I presume you'll read, Maps. My Lord Borgia, jests, as captain in your lordship service. I have demonstrated many times. Yes, yes, my dear Donna Stavon, it was a rhetorical question. You see, your friend Orsini smiles. I smile only in delight at viewing a map of Italy. A soldier finds it fascinating. Good, good. Now tell me, Donna Stavon, which is of greater service to me, your sword or the Lord Orsini's words? Your lordship knows that in battle the sword cuts the mouth. My Lord Don S. Stavon must take care that his sword is sharp enough for such cutting. Enough, enough. Look, my dagger. And the dagger on the map. What do you say, Donna Stavon? The dagger thrust through our city of Rome, and you Orsini. With your lordship mind, if I spoke not as a soldier, but as a poor painter of portraits. Speak. I see a knife in the hands of Rome, and throughout the waste of Italy I see a map of many colors. As an artist, my Lord Borgia, I would find much more beauty if there were only a single color. And that, the symbol of Borgia's rule. Your dagger, Lord. He will sense its sharpness well. Now look here. The road to conquest, the Flaminian road. In the spring my troops will take this path to secure the Italian marches. We take Camarino, and on and on. But here, here is the obstacle. Cheetah del Monte. An eagle's nest perched atop a mountain, straddling the Flaminian road. Well, Donna Stavon, what do we do about it? Give me ten thousand troops, or one man. One man to take a walled city? And who shall he be? Who but a man as quick at deceit as a fox? A veritable prince of foxes? He must charm as a snake, charms a bird, yet he must make no friends except those who can be put to use. And for the same reason, although he makes use of love, he must not love. Such a man must take Cheetah del Monte for me. And who is he? Now you may go, Donna Stavon. Orsini, remain. I commend your choice, my lord. Mature excellence, consider the... You'll question me. Oh, sir. Then go. My lord Orsini. If a captain is annoyed, sir. Do not laugh yet, Orsini. Should you lose a single step forward, Donna Stavon is close behind. Not enough of this. The key to Cheetah del Monte shall be presented to you in due time. Use it well. And the city is ours. And what would this key be, Lord Borger? A woman, perhaps? Perhaps? Or a knife? They're the same. And if a life must be taken to secure the city? So long as it isn't mine. And if it were, I'd merely take back what I've given you. My lord Orsini doesn't forget that he entered Rome as a peasant. As an artist, my lord. A peasant artist, then. And now you bear title. And in your service. And lord or peasant, my greatest pleasure is to earn further rewards. In your service, of course. Flatterer. What? Are my words of love rewarded with laughter? Your words spring too easily, Lord Orsini. And why should they not? Fair Angela, since your father deals in rare works of art. You are a fitting daughter. Come here, my dove. One kiss. Just one, then. I'd... And when your father arrives, my love, you'll admire my painting, present my price. Orsini. Andrei Orsini, you're a thief. A scoundrel who prays on poor dealers of art. Please leave my daughter alone. Well, what have you brought me this time? A gem, Master Pavia. A true miracle of paint and canvas. A bargain beyond counting. At a hundred dockets. Father, you must buy it. Don't be quiet, Latin. I will risk fifty dockets. Farewell, my friend. It is sixty then, no more. My lowest price is a hundred dockets. For so rare a painting for you. Orsini, I'm a poor man. I... Master Pavia, do I hear you bargain like a fish-wise? My damma, Mia, what an honor you grace my humble shop. An honor, indeed, but I regret your presence, madam, whatever be your name. Indeed. How can one praise beauty in a painting when you stand beside it? You make a swift acquaintance, my lord. Much too swift to my liking. Oh, forgive her, madame Mia. You have a touch of indigestion, perhaps. My lord, I find this painting quite pleasing. Would you sell it to me? If your Highness would honor me, accept it as your just tribute. Oh, you have greatness of soul, sir. I will hang it in a place of honor in my own bedroom. A most fitting place. Where it will always recall your generosity to me. My greatest pleasure. And to my good husband. The devil take him. You spoke, my lord? I merely commented on the good fortune of your husband. Thank you. Master Pervia, isn't it about time you presented this gentleman? Oh, an ill-magnifico André Orsini, captain of his lordship, César Borgia. I have the honor to present Camilla Baglione, wife to his excellence, Marco Antonio Ferrano. My lady Camilla, I leave you now with my painting and my regret. That I have your painting? That you have a husband. Oh, it's you, Angela. My beauty, my life. Your window frames your loveliness as no artist could. I believe you're right. Are you all seen? Oh, no. Assassin! Assassin, is it? Now. Please. Now, master murderer, I have the knife. You're your devil. No, don't be a fool. A fool to kill you. You'll never know why I attacked you. Then talk. If your manifico will release me... Speak up, or by heaven I'll... I was paid to slay you. I whom? Don Esteban Maramirez. Don Esteban Maramirez? Of course. Not a bit. But run my love, hide my lovely. He says he was sent to murder you. Oh, my fine murderer. Let me look at you. A fit face for an assassin. A face I can't change. Nor would I want it changed. Beautiful. A face worth the painting. A model of Judas. I'm a poor man of business. Your name? Mario Belli. Well, Belli, you're a poor specimen. But I'll be dashed if there isn't a fine joke in you. Ah, there's jokes enough for the one who holds the knife. You know it might amuse me to become the master of a man who hired to kill me. Ah? What's the game? That you accept my employment. Ah, that depends. For how much? Listen to the rogue. Speak your mind. Shall it be me or my dagger? I'll bear your service, then. And warn you when I'm quitting. On the honor of a scoundrel. On my honor. Good enough. Tomorrow we pay a visit to the court and to my lord Don Esteban. You bring me news, Belli? Ah, yes, Don Esteban. Then what is it? It's rather a long story. Answer me. Did you accomplish your mission? Outside the door, my lord. I have the honor to present Il Magnifico Andrea Orsini. And you find it a present day, Don Esteban? Traitor. What could I do? Let me say at the beginning, Don Esteban, that we must be objective in these matters. You hate me and you seek to have me killed. You dare speak such words here? In the palace of my lord Cesar Borgia. But you see, I enjoy his favor. And I promise you, Don Esteban, gross dog that you are. I loathe you quite as happily as you loathe me. There's this difference between us. When I wish to take your life, I won't deny myself the personal pleasure of the act. Ah, here you are, O city. My lord Borgia. My lord. May I present to you my friend and servant, Mario Belli. I kneel to your lordship. Gaze upon his countenance, sire. Did you ever see such treachery? An assassin by trade sold to the highest bidder. And does he really differ from any other person in this room? Arsene, come to the window. Don Esteban, you may go. Ah, a party in your garden. For what occasion? Honored guests on a pilgrimage for the whole of year. You see the old man there talking by the oak tree. The white hair? Yes, yes. The lord of Chita del Monte. Ah, the mountain city. The city you shall take for me. And with it if you wish something for yourself. The key to the city and a jewel with the having. And what is this jeweled key? There. She has just come around the tree. I'll be blasted. Look well, Arsene. So young, so beautiful. The old man's wife. Camilla Bellione. Wife to his excellence, Marc Antonio Verano. You've informed yourself, my lord. You know what I want. Chita del Monte by spring. Now, shall we join our guests in the garden? My lord Verano, I'm sure Andrea Arsene will prove an entertaining guide during your stay in Rome. My wife and I offer our thanks. From what I know of the noble Arsene, he should be entertaining under any circumstances. So long as they include yourself, my lady. Have you met before then? Well, Arsene, have you met before? An unfair question. May the gallant and answer yes a thousand times each time I look on beauty. Or I could be cautious and sly and only say Madonna's memory will guide my answer. There you have the perfect example of diplomacy. And I still don't know whether they've ever met. Does it really matter, my lord husband? Of course not, my dear. My lord Verano, it occurs to me that now would be an excellent time to secure the friendships of our states. But what changing of the subject is this? Not a change at all. For since Andrea Arsene finds favor in your eyes, I suggest we exchange ambassadors. I shall appoint mine now, Arsene. I see. You are a soldier, Arsene, and my people live in peace. I hope you find sufficient amusement in Cittadel Monte. I'm sure I shall. We shall welcome you as a friend. We pray that our friendship lasts. And so the bond between our states is fixed. Our drama continues in just a moment. But now, here's a word from RCA Victor. It's a common experience with all of us to spend a heap of money on pleasure and be completely unable a month later to remember where it went. Well, that's an experience you won't have when you buy an RCA Victor television-radio phonograph combination. 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Well, my Lord Varano sets an excellent banquet table. No way, Orsini, to stop the winter cold. Please. Mr. Billy. Oh, yes. Yes. And you, my dear. No, thank you. My Lady Camila has no need of wine to warm her blood. I find it well to keep a clear head when I speak to Cesar Borges' ambassador in case... In case, my lady? In case he thinks me stupid. Your Highness pays little credit to my sense of observation. Captain Orsini, it pleases now to introduce you officially to Cheetah Del Monte. Sales, lords and counsellors. I give you the ambassador of the illustrious Cesar Borges, the Lord Captain Orsini. My Lord Varano, I am a professional soldier. If you should see me climbing your walls, know that I am studying your defenses. Oh, not just exercising. But know also that I was not sent here for that. My master has told me that your main strength in Cheetah Del Monte is loyalty. I'm here to spy on this loyalty and to learn the secret of how it works. I am already learning. Please help me to learn more. Thank you. Camilla Flan, is it that my speech is displeased? We must talk alone. I'll send for you tonight. My lady honours me. It is scarcely honour, my Lord Orsini. Orsini. Oh, and does my lady Camilla wait in the shadows? I said we would meet alone. Then at least stand by the window where we'll find the grace of moonlight. There's the crest of midnight in your eyes, Madonna. And in your hair and on your lips the lightest stars. Do you really think I ask you here to listen to such talk? Young wife and old husband? And a false cheat. My lady forgets herself. I forget nothing. Nothing I saw in Rome. Borges soldiers, Borges armories, Borges talk of war. Leave the game of politics to your husband, Madonna. He's good for little else. Obviously you came here expecting kisses. I make you a promised Lord Orsini. Betray us and you shall feel a kiss of this upon your lips. A dagger glitters in the moonlight and fierce words flash from an angry beauty. Now there's a picture worth the painting. There's no laughter in me, Orsini. For my husband's sake, there will be peace between us so long as you act peaceably. Someone's coming. I've spoken my words. Mark them well, Orsini. Is someone there? Andrea Orsini, my lord Verano. Wondering about the castle at midnight? And what's this? A dagger? It would appear to be a dagger, my lord. Orsini, you find my wife attractive, don't you? Only with the deepest respect. Words? I regret your lordship thinks ill of me. I think ill of no one. Your lordship is tolerant. I am not tolerant of anything that would affect my wife's honor. And is that in question? Fortunately, no. Mind you, she's as capable of going to the devil as any other young woman. But I'm certain of this. If she does go, she won't sneak about it. She'll tell me first. Your lordship's confidence is most worthy of consideration. Then consider, my lord. And, uh, incidentally, I'll return this dagger to her. Good night. Walls, Bailey. Mark the thickness of these walls. But look at these cannon. What was rusted through, and these snows will finish the job. Look, we stand thousands of feet in the air, a sheer drop. And they don't have a guard, not one single guard. No matter guards or cannon here, they can be supplied. Look now, the city sits on the rim of a mountain. In only one place can they be attacked. Boardgear's troops would take it like a shepherd herds sheep. Oh, Bailey, give me a thousand men and enough food and ammunition, and I could hold this place till the enemy died of old age. It's all very well, my lord Orsini. But our job is to attack it, not defend it. Ah, the winter air. Sit down, Bailey. Once, Bailey, there was a young man who lived in the country. A peasant's hut. He wanted riches and power and all the fullness of the earth. And he set about getting them with a handful of paints. But other doors open, and others, and... Ah, it's a good place, this cheetah del Monte. I'm pleased you find it so. My lord Varana. You've come to my favorite spot, where one can almost see the entire world. Whenever I'm troubled, I come here. And I always find an answer to my problem. It frightens me, a misplaced step, and you're gone. Are you afraid of death, Orsini? I have no great affection for it, sir. You still must learn the greatest truth of living. After all, nothing dies. The seasons repeat themselves. The trees and grass grow again. Even our own humble places are tainted. I don't have your wisdom, my lord. I believe that I was born and that I must die. And between the two extremes lies a devil of a lot of living. I make the best of it. You're cursed with youth, Orsini. And despite the stories that are told, youth is not the happiest part of life. I'm sorry for you. And for my wife. You both have a long road to travel. Good morning, my friend. My lord Orsini. What is it, Bailey? Perfect. Heaven sent. What are you talking about? When the time comes, we'll give the old man a problem. He comes out here to think it out. A push? It's over. Always the man of business. Come along. I'll finish that portrait I'm painting of you. Come along. I'm getting cold. Now, hold that position. We're almost through. All right. Don't push at me. And does my lady Camilla have an interest in art that she watches so closely? I find it odd. A soldier who dabbles at painting. Bailey, your head a bit to the left. Perhaps Madonna is an artist who dabbles in soldiering. Perhaps when you finish this, if you have nothing else to do, you'll paint... Stand still, Bailey. Perhaps Madonna herself. Perhaps. If you promised to wave no more daggers in my face. I promised you peace. If you gave peace in return. We'll start in the morning. But I warn you, it's a long job. We won't finish until spring. Is Madonna weary? No. I'm fine. A few more brush strokes and it will be finished. And you'll show it to me then? The months of painting. Yes, I'll show it to you. I dob here, there, and I tell myself I'm creating beauty. Months, my lady, and you've been very patient. For me, they've been extremely happy months. And now they're finished. And so is the painting. May... may I see? Look. Or see me. Does it please you? Oh, I thought you were only a maker of compliments. A lord of ambitions and dark schemes. But now, in my own portrait, oh, there's a great artist in you. I might have been once. It's past now. You speak with humility. Why? Because I find I'm a stupid man. Everything I know is stale. What's troubling you, Orsini? I don't know. I only know that spring is here. Those planted in the winter must soon begin to grow. You'll pardon me, Madonna. Orsini. God help me. What am I doing to these people? Maripico, my lord Orsini. And what is it, Bailey? News. News. Spring is here. We have a visitor in Chita del Monte. And what visitor is that? The blade of Cesar Borgia, my former employer, Don Esteban Ramirez. I have read your master's message, Don Esteban. I recommend that you consider it well. What does he demand? To pierce it, Cesar Borgia is launching an attack on Camarino. He demands passage for his troops and a levy of a thousand men from my city. And this was friendship. My master asks that you keep your period of deliberation to a minimum. I await your answer. I'll have to think on this. My lord Orsini no longer has a welcome here. Come, my husband. Thank you, my dear. The bride and groom spring in the lap of winter and you fail to winter. Yes, it appears I've failed all around. The vacation is over I, Orsini. Now we'll see which is more effective. Pretty words or the drums of war. There is times, Orsini, the old man on the edge of death. Do we strike? Bailey, let me think. You'll have everything. Well, position, fame, and even the woman if you want to. You've sweated for this how many years? All my life it seems, but I can't kill that old man. Then give me your orders. No, no. Let him live and make Borgia go to the devil. You fool, I'll do it. You'll obey me. Come to your senses. Is there no profit in fighting for lost causes? I am not so sure, my friend. Then hear me, Orsini. I give you notice. I withdraw from your service and offer my night to Shazard Borgia. You betrayed not only him but me. I'll not forget that. Perhaps you'll not forget Cheetah Del Monte either. Orsini, did I see you arguing with Mesha Bailey? No, my lord Berano, if I argued I think it was with myself. Have you decided yet on Borgia's demands? I have. No honorable man, no honorable city could give Borgia what he wants. And my lord, you've chosen well. And if fight you must, I offer one more sword against Shazard Borgia. Here is something you should know if you ever suffer from the sudden pain of headaches, neuritis, or neuralgia. It's a way to ease the pain often within a few minutes. A way that is incredibly fast and effective. It's anison. Anison is like a doctor's prescription. 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The Screen Directors Playhouse presentation of Prince of Foxes starring Douglas Fairbanks with Joyce McKenzie will continue in just a moment after a short pause for station identification. This is the Screen Directors Playhouse. We continue with the third act of Prince of Foxes starring Douglas Fairbanks as Orsini with Joyce McKenzie as Camilla. Music In its determination to oppose the demands of Cesar Borgia, the mountain city of Chita del Monte prepares for war, and as the blacksmiths forge their weapons, the eyes of Andrea Orsini are everywhere. You there, up on the wall. Help get that cannon into place. My people can fight Orsini. But time, time. Time we can. A military lesson, my lord. You know Borgia's battle strategy? No, I... I don't matter. I know it as I know my hand. First, intelligence about the enemy. He'll have that from my erstwhile friend, Mario Bale. Second, the battle order. Mounted troops, artillery, and then the infantry. But why wait for Borgia to attack? Why not go out and meet him? But we have only a few soldiers or CV, none of them trained. And still I ask, why wait like rats in a hole? No, my lord, to run. Wolves. Wolves who attack the bull. Wolves often perish in such an attack. Not wily, wolves. They wait for a chance to rush in from the side, avoid the sharp horns, and then they strike. But always at the weakest part. You know your profession well. I should, I learned it from a master. But now the apprentice rebels, and we attack. Your permission, my lord. And we attack Borgia's cavalry before it begins to climb your mountain. My lord, in respect to your years, the battle will be dangerous. These are my people, Orsini. When they ride out, I ride with them. Camilla, my dear. My lord has been weird as scar. I give it to you from my shoulders with my love and my prayers for your safety. Thank you. Goodbye, my dear. Orsini, I'll ride to the front. And for you, my lord Orsini, this handkerchief with my gratitude. Madonna. They cheated El Monte no victory before the sun has risen. They leave now. And suddenly the artist finds himself a soldier again. Well, my lady, it's all in a day's living. Let's hope it's not in a night's dying. Farewell, madonna. The archers hidden as only the wolf can hide them. Or the fox. Once I was called a fox. A prince of foxes. Well, we'll see. It's a good night, my lord. Clear and sweet. I smell a bitterness in the air, Orsini. The smell of battle. Someday, perhaps, there'll be an end to this. Once Cesar Borgia is destroyed, perhaps, my lord, we fight a battle in the last of wars. Once such words were spoken to me by my dearest friend. A soldier? Only in defence of his home he was a saint in honour and justice. He passed those virtues on to his only child. He's dead then? Yes. When he was killed, she needed refuge from the enemies of their family. I married her to assure her that refuge. I made her my daughter. So, you did not have to speak those words, madonna. I know, Orsini. But we face a battle and... who knows? Listen. Borgia's cavalry. Coming into the wood. Orsini, you command us now. Myself, my soldiers. I hope our own horses don't give us away. There. They're in the clearing. Close. Closer. Beautiful. Good fortune, my lord. Archers! We've won the day, sir. That news should heal your wounds. The wounds of an old man who sought to be a warrior. Please rest, my husband. Where all the wounded brought back to Cheetah del Monte... All are safe, my lord. And the battle continues. It continues well. Now you must rest. Soon you'll be strong again. No, my child. Orsini, give me your hand. It shall always be here, my lord. And you, Camilla. You have it. There are men. There are battles. Always a hatred. A fighting in our hearts. I've grown very old. And always searched for peace. But even the scraps of wisdom that come with aid deny it to me. Perhaps you will find it. An end to this. A last. Your kindness has brought me more peace than I'd ever known. Then, Camilla, I have done well. You have known peace once. May you know it again. And may you know love. Orsini? Yes, my lord. You have both been true to me. I have understood now, each other. My husband. The last battle, Madonna. Dawn yesterday, the city was besieged by the troops of Cesar Portia. Orsini, you can't keep on like this. A soldier has his duties, Madonna, and among the most distasteful is writing the Chronicle of the Battle. How long has it been since you've closed your eyes? Since the battle turned against us. What has it been? Two days? Three days a week? Once I said I could hold the city for an eternity. Now for an hour I scribble in a book. Sitte del Monte besieged by Cesar Portia. And who shall read your book? No other soldiers, perhaps a jaded historian here and there, and perhaps Madonna. All this shall be related as an adventure to amuse and frighten children. And how will you appear in this adventure? How? As a hero if we win, and certainly a villainous scoundrel if we lose. No, as a friend, and a true and honest nobleman. Nobleman, Camilla? I wonder if history will ever discover the truth of that. And still they shoot their infernal cannon. Orsini, our food grows short. Then we'll eat less. And men have fallen ill. The devil take them then. Let them shoot their arrows from their beds. Orsini, if we fall... We won't fall. I'll hold this city till Borgia's men rot in their boots. You hear me, Madonna? I have failed in art and failed in politics, but as a soldier I will not be beaten. Orsini. Three months. Three months for this. Commanders, Orsini, what shall we do? The famine, pestilence, and the dead outnumber the living. One more assault and we're finished. Then let it be. Perhaps they'll show mercy. Mercy? My lady, only one thing remains. To take measures for your safety. What measures? There's a secret exit from the city. While Borgia's troops pillage, you'll escape into the open, and then on to Rerugio, Venice, wherever you wish. And you'll escort me? Only in spirit, Madonna. Then I intend to stay here. These are my suits. I'm too. Do you think so badly of me that I could crawl away while you and my people die? Heroism is a shallow thing, Madonna, if it's not rooted in wisdom. I don't intend to be wise. I intend only to stay here. Then for my sake, Camilla, escape while you can. For your sake? I said I'd failed in art and politics. I thought I could hold the city, and now I've failed at that too. But if you were safe, then my life has been to some purpose. Orsini. My life must have a purpose too. But you throw it away, you... Camilla, the artillery. It stopped. Two Borgia men under a flag of truth at the city gates. What do they want? A parley. Take them to the council hall. Madonna, we'll meet them together. Hurry now, change into your prettiest dress. If haggling's their game, the road may be longer than we thought. You bring me a message from Cesar Borgia? We do. May I introduce the emissaries, my lady? I've caused to know them well. This conceited devil is Captain Don Esteban Ramirez. I bow to the traitor, Orsini. Thank you. And this other one, him you remember, Mario Belli. He's risen in the world. What would you expect of a Judas? I'm bound to prosper. Do you come to ask for peace? As commanding officer of the forces of Cesar Borgia, I'm authorized by his excellence to make certain proposals which my master believes you may find to your advantage. Proceed. First, in return for the surrender of the city, my lord engages to restrain his soldiers from a sack to take no vengeance on you or your people. What security does he offer? His illustrious word. Huh? What else does your master desire? The above term shall be considered null and void unless the traitor Orsini be delivered alive into the hands of the Duke Cesar's officers. Then I am to be the main prize of war. Now we look forward to your company once again, Manifico. Return to your master. And your decision? Tell him I will set torches to the city rather than accept the conditions he offers. I shall convey your answer. We ask safe conduct back to our lines. You shall have it. Go. And so, my lord Orsini, we dispose of these matters. Imagine what food for the historians that Andrea Orsini shall become the prize of war. We reject the terms. We'll renew the defense. It will be the last, Madonna. I'm not afraid of death. But much more to the point I've made a sudden discovery. Neither am I. Deliver that message into the hands of his excellent Cesar Borgia swiftly as possible. Your lordship, Don Esteta. The prisoner surrendered himself. Execute him. I've no time for... Andrea Orsini. So... You accept our terms. I ask to be taken to Borgia. By his orders, I sit in his seat. Well, sit lightly, my friend, lest you damage your brains. Again? Your tongue? Perhaps we'll rip it out of you. But his excellence will decide the manner of your punishment. What difference? For all intents and purposes, I'm already dead. Yes, I'd say that was quite correct. And yet, like so many dead ones, it still influenced the living. What? You presume to dictate terms? Only to warn you to stand by the terms already offered. And if we don't? You'll conquer a dead city. In every building burned, every man, woman and child at corpse. There'll be less glory than loot, and the horror of Cheetah del Monte will be the name Cesar Borgia hated by all of history. We... We are men of honor. We stand by our terms. And I am your prisoner. And, my fine friend, of many words, some very amusing things are going to happen to you. The Lord said of Borgia, Duke of Beletinois and Duke of Romania. Borgia comes to claim what is his. On the contrary, Madonna Camilla, I come from Rome, not as a conqueror. Your troops have conquered. But, madam, I would create a bond of affection between us. What can I do to accomplish this? There's only one thing I would ask of you. You wouldn't grant it. Ask, Madonna. Ask and find out. Life and freedom for our senior, my lord. This is most touching. I ask only this of you. What you ask is not impossible. My lord. Such love as this is indeed rare, and I should respect it. Yes, I should do something about it. Can I dare to hope? Oh, yes, your excellence. I would certainly say that. You may hope. And I promise you'll be surprised. Oh, my lord. We'll discuss it at dinner tonight. Well, that's you, too. That dinner isn't eating. No, my lord Borgia. Nonsense. Maley, see that her excellence is fair. Ah, some fruit, my lady, to find plum. These grapes taken from your own garden. Nothing. Is it this orcini that prays upon your mind? Well, then, I promised to consider his case, didn't I? Should we invite him to join us at table? I have no words to thank you. You'll find them. Bring in the lord orcini. Immersive of God, what have you done to him? Ah, a few tricks. See how Donna Stabon's eyes glitter with the pride of his accomplishments. I told you, beaten. And clothed in rags, Madonna, the clothing of his station. Orcini, the peasants. I love and honor the lord, orcini. Lord, scum from a mountain hut who poorly played a game and poorly lost it. He was a lord only at my command, and now I return to him to what he was. The fraud stands before you. Bring the peasant closer. Mother of God. I ordered them to leave you your tongue, orcini. Have you any jest for us now? Any words of wisdom? My lord, Orsha, let me thank you for this last of all the things you've taught me. You've taught me that there is no victory in power. No honor in deceit. No future in living as you will live. Hated and alone. Madonna, Camila, forgive me for the misfortune I have brought upon your house. Orcini, peasant, noble. You are the lord to whom I humbly offer my love for all eternity. Ah, this joke has finished. Now I speak your sentence, Orcini. Barely seen that the lady keeps her chair. I will, my lord. Barely. You were his friend. Friend? Mario Barely? Mesa Barely stands alone against the world, an alchemist ever ready to transform his friends into gold. You're a humble man of business, my lord. Then listen, my friend, and see if you approve. Andrea Orcini, my sentence is that you shall be exposed in a cage on the castle tower. There to remain is a spectacle and warning. Until your bones drop apart. My lord, my lord, please. Take him from my side. Your Excellency, I protest. You, Barely, protest. What sentence is this for an ungrateful peasant who turned on your loving highness a half-dead carcass to rot in a cage? No. Barely, you think I've been too lenient? What would you suggest? Something clacker. Orcini, the painter, has been partial to colors. Let him enjoy them with empty sockets. I say, blind him. Blind him and set him on the road and wherever the poor wretch wanders, let him be a warning of your lordship's justice. Oh, my lord, take my own life. Take what you wish, but... Madonna, you begin to work me. Guards, close them out. I'll be your servant. I'll be your servant. Do you fancy the new sentence? Most fitting your excellence. Then it shall be done tomorrow. You might I suggest, my lord, why not here and now? My own two thumbs. You? Gouging's this thing. I promise you amusement. Look, like these two grapes, I hold them in my hand, then with my thumbs... This promises to be a show worth watching. Guards, tie his hands. Madonna, I do hope you're not squeamish. There shall be a sight to ponder in the dungeon, and you will. Bailey, you may proceed. I will, my lord. Camilla, one look. Take a good look at me, Orsini. It's the last thing you'll see. My thumbs. Scream, Orsini, act a part. Do you understand? Scream. And now, my lord, it's I. Now, these two grapes must curate as your eyes. My lords, I show you the eyes of the peasant, Orsini. So be it, so be it. I now set the carry on upon the road to see the glory of his folly. In your hands. May my lord have a pleasant journey. There can be no pleasantries for those who don't yet have what they want. And you, Captain Bailey, I'll send for you when I have need of your excellent talents. I await your word. One point more, Donna Stabarton. I gave orders that the lady Camilla should be here to wish me farewell. Why isn't she by your side? My lord, she refused. And the coddling is over. Consign her excellence to her own dungeon. I was about to suggest a saving. Well, then I leave you now. Bailey, I shall continue to depend on you. Your magnificence has no more faithful servant than I. Then my future is assured, depending on which one of us is hanged first. And here is the Magnifico Orsini once again in the peasant hut. Bailey, my friend. Now let me see you. The wounds have almost healed. I've waited for you to come. The finest traitor of them all. You know, this whole thing pleases me. Who betrayed who and where did it start? No matter. My stomach has turned traitor to the rest of me. I've discovered the devil doesn't always pay the best. Bailey, Donna Camilla, as you will. Today says our Borgia road back to Rome. His final words were to have her imprisoned. But she's not harm. No. Who commands the castle? Don Esteban. Don Esteban, of course. Bailey, would you strike one more blow against the Borgia terror? With all my heart. One spark. One small spark could spread into a fire that would burn down his house. If we had money to hire mercenaries. We don't need them. While I've grown strong in this hut, the leaders of the people have come to me. The old soldiers. Ah, they are not tired of war? Not so long as they yearn for peace. I've made a plan, Bailey. Oh, the fox again. The fox. Now you say Camilla is in the dungeon. Bailey, Sapo, Fabio, all of you. Listen to me. We listen. This is the secret exit to the castle by which I once hoped Madonna Camilla would make her escape. It serves us now. I go alone to the dungeon. You follow and spread out through the city. When the moon is opposite the tower, then will be the time to strike. Questions? We know our parts. Then may fortune go with us this night. Answer the guard! Your keys, friend guard. You are punctual, Don Esteban. Camilla, well enough to find your beauty in these shadows. You weren't lying. A trick for Borgia's amusement. Tonight your people retake the city. I'll give the signal when you're safe. Then let's leave quickly. Every night Don Esteban comes here. He comes to... I have no words to express his evil. Guard! Don Esteban. Into the shadows. Here, your Excellency. Why aren't you at your post? Why? Orsini. Blind Orsini. What scheme is this? One of your own making? No matter. Your blindness will soon be over, Orsini. But look, Don Esteban. Can these be eyes, you see? And this time, my friend, I cast aside my words and take my sword. This time you'll die, artist. What? Without an assassin to do your dirty work? I take it as my pleasure. Orsini! Don't fear, my lady. A touch of blood to make the flux more wily. Don Esteban! Look to your sword. Give you a message to take your master. Words again? No, steel. This, this fork. And back, Camilla. It's a long night's kill. My lady, when are you here? Bailey. My loopy boy. Hey, what's this? His Lordship, Don Esteban Ramirez. Ha! He'll have good company, Orsini. The city's taken? Ah, the fox planned well. I'll open the other cells, Madonna. Camilla. Then, then we are free, Orsini. Not as long as Borscha rules, but we might contrive to put a stop to that. Orsini. Ah, I marvel at the light that burns in my lady's eyes. For what? A soldier who dabbles in art. An artist who dabbles in war. A poor peasant. My lord, Orsini. My lady, Camilla. The Screen Directors Playhouse Presentation of Prince of Foxes and two fascinating performances by Douglas Fairbanks and Joyce McKenzie. Next Thursday, the Screen Directors Playhouse brings you a portrait in Scarlet as we present the powerful motion picture story, Ivy, directed by the late Sam Wood. And recreating her memorable starring role will be Joan Fontaine. Now, here again is tonight's star, Douglas Fairbanks. My lords and ladies, the audience are excellency. My lady, Joyce McKenzie. This peasant Orsini were a poor fellow indeed. It is strut across our drama without a deep and grateful bow to the director. So, may we dispense with Orsini and introduce you to the master artist who created Prince of Foxes and such other truly magnificent motion pictures as 12 o'clock high and Song of Bernadette, the director, Henry King. Thank you, Doug, and you, Joyce, for helping the director solve the problem. We are constantly being frustrated by this matter of becoming terrifically involved in a picture story. And at the same time, not being able to relax and see it as pure entertainment. But tonight, I finally made it. As I heard Prince of Foxes for the first time in a different medium, without having the worry of production sets, pacing, and camera angles, I leaned back and fairly enjoyed myself. Thanks for a fine adaptation, and good night. Light's production, Prince of Foxes, was presented through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox, whose Technicolor production, Halls of Montezuma, is having its world premiere simultaneously in Hollywood and New York tonight, starring Richard Whitmark. Douglas Fairbanks may soon be seen in the Columbia release, The Great Manhunt. Joyce McKenzie was heard through the courtesy of 20th Century Fox, producers of The Mudlark, starring Irene Dunn. Henry King's next picture soon to be released is, I'd Climb the Highest Mountain, starring Susan Hayward and Bill Lundigan. Tonight's cast included Bill Conrad, Raymond Burr, Lynn Allen, Lou Merrill, Herbert Butterfield, and Ben Wright. The Prince of Foxes from the novel by Samuel Schellebarger was adapted for radio by Richard Allen Simmons. The screen director's playhouse is produced by Howard Wiley, and directed by Bill Karn. This is Jimmy Wallington speaking, and inviting you to listen next Thursday when we present Joan Fontaine in Ivy. Listen again next week to screen director's playhouse, the Thursday night feature on NBC's All-Star Festival of Comedy, Music, Mystery, and Drama. Listen tomorrow evening to the one and only Duffy Staven, the Friday night feature of the All-Star Festival. Join Archie and the gang at Duffy Staven tomorrow night on in...