- Can you lock up behind me?
- Sure.
Yes, thanks.
There’s someone in there!
You! Cavaradossi!
God’s sent you to me!
It is me, your comrade.
Have months in prison changed me so completely?
Angelotti!
The Roman Republic’s hunted and persecuted consul.
- I have escaped the guards are Fort San Angelo.
- What can I do to help?
(Tosca, distant: Mario!)
Tosca’s here!
You can hide in the chapel.
Rest here while I sort this.
(Tosca, distant: Mario!)
- Here I am!
I am faint now with hunger and exhaustion.
Take this, you must eat and build up your strength.
Thank you.
Hurry.
- Thank you. 
- Hide.
(Tosca, distant: Mario! Mario! Mario!)
I’m here!
Why lock the door?
The Sacristan insisted.
I heard you speaking.
- To you?
- To someone else, I heard you whispering.
- Where is she?
- Who?
Oh, please! Your fair lady!
I heard her run and hide and the sound of a door closing.
Nonsense!
- You’re lying!
- Not true, I love you…
…not in front of the Madonna.
Now, my Mario, let me pray to the Virgin…
…offering flowers.
[sumptuous music]
Mario, listen to me…
Tonight I’m singing but the show’s not a long one.
Come around to the stage door and collect me.
We’ll drive out to the villa - to be alone.
This evening?
The moon is full and all the scents of flowers fill the air…
…beguiles the night.
Does that not please you?
Clearly.
Say it again.
Cl-early.
That’s not convincing, that’s NOT convincing.
But don’t you long for our dear little villa?
That now awaits us surrounded by flowers.
Sacred to us but known to no one else.
Full of mystery and love.
At your side, you can hear them, listen to the voices that only lovers hear.
The voices of the things we love:
From all the blos’ming flowers, the perfumed evening,
and even from thyme filled fields of glory,
come spirits who call you and whisper in the night-time:
Go, enjoy your lover
with sweet intoxication,
sensual sweet intoxication.
We’ll live in fields of flowers.
We’ll enjoy the sea’s gentle breezes.
The gentle breezes in the moonlit night
murmur the story of the joy that does embrace me:
Tosca’s tale of ardent love!
Ah! You’ve caught me in your spell,
my fair enchantress.
Tosca’s blood burns with wild and ardent
love.
- Siren fair, I am yours…
- Oh, my beloved.
- Now leave me to my painting.
- You dismiss me?
- I must work now. Please go!
- I’ll go… I’ll go.
[music: sudden angry strings]
And who is that woman I see here?
- The Virgin Mary, do you like her?
- She’s far too beautiful!
Artistic license.
Hold on, I’ve seen those pale blue eyes before.
I know it.
- They’re by no means uncommon.
- One moment…
I know her.
[music: sudden angry strings]
- It’s Attavanti!
- Well done!
You saw her, love her, she loves you, you
love her!!
- I do not know her.
- Those footsteps! And all that whispering!
Just now… you were with her!
Oh come on!
That’s filthy sl*t! With her, with her!!
She prays here daily… kneels at the Madonna
Worships there in silence.
We’ve never even spoken.
- Swear it.
- I swear it.
- See how she stares? She taunts me.
- How’s that then?!
- She laughs at my dejection.
- That’s madness.
Ah! Those eyes…
No eyes on earth, not the greenest or bluest,
are as lustrous as yours, Floria Tosca.
In them, I lose myself, my life has meaning, my only Tosca!
How can eyes be tender that burn with passion?
No eyes, on earth, nor in heaven above us, burn as bright as Tosca’s.
Oh, yes, you know the secret…
…just how to make me love you.
But… make her eyes much darker.
- Why so jealous?
- Yes, I know that I torment you without reason.
- Don’t be jealous.
- And I know you will forgive me…
- Well, I might do.
- Yes, I know you will forgive me…
…when you think of my misery!
Oh, Tosca, dear adored one,
you know all your moods beguile me.
Tosca: Yes, you will forgive me…
Cavaradossi: And your anger…
Tosca: …when you think of my misery!
Cavaradossi: …is an ecstasy of love!
Oh! Repeat those words that heal me…
…that console me, say it, say it!
My own suspicious spirit, I shall always dearly
love you.
Yes, my dear angel…
…I will love you ‘til I die.
I must look atrocious.
My hair is such a mess now.
- Now go… I must paint.
- I’ll leave you, my love, so you can finish your painting.
But you must promise that no pious woman,
none, with the blonde nor dark haired,
shall be admitted here for any reason.
Floria, I promise, now go!
Why do you rush me?
- Seriously?
- No… forgive me…
- Before the good Madonna?
- She’s far too good.
But… make her eyes much darker.
