Mortadello

OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 89 Under my lord to reach incredible success. But he has wit to teach—a smile and a caress. MORTADELLO. Yet you are to instruct our Sandro how to woo ! MONICA. This is the usufruct of your instruction too ! MORTADELLO. I own defeat of wit. Fair lady, lead me hence ! [LUCREZIA goes on MORTADELLO’S arm. MONICA. Be merciful to it ! LUCREZIA. O trust my indolence ! MORTADELLO. She scorns to measure swords. LUCREZIA. Indeed, it is the heat. ALESSANDRO. Your lady’s laugh accords. MORTADELLO. The masculine’s effete. [He goes off flirting with LUCREZIA. MONICA. See Mortadello bloom, a poppy ! ALESSANDRO. Which you nip. Its colour and perfume were stolen from your lip. MONICA. I dare not take my own. ALESSANDRO. Not I the flower I need. MONICA. My hope is overblown, yet will not scatter seed. ALESSANDRO. A prudent gardener prunes ; but shall I fix the graff ? MONICA. Write me this afternoon’s intimate epitaph ? ALESSANDRO. You know I do not dare. MONICA. Till now you have dared all. There is a God whose care lets never a sparrow fall. ALESSANDRO. If Lesbia laughs, I would. MONICA. [Folding her hands in prayer.] Take care, you lose your labour. ALESSANDRO. Does love for God exclude a passion for your neighbor ?