18 
MORTADELLO 
 
My arm about your waist, its fellow on my sword ! 
To the gondola ! 
[The LORD GABRIELE and his sbirri appear running, 
upon the bridge. 
ORLANDO. 
Too late !  we must face Venice now. 
MONICA.  I am at the height of Fate ! 
GABRIELE. 
Halt there ! 
ORLANDO. 
 
Who calls ? 
GABRIELE. 
 
Allow 
The warrant of the Three !  I have a word to speak 
To the Princess. 
MONICA. 
To me ?  My lord, I am too weak 
To move against your will.  I only ask to go, 
As is my custom still, a pilgrim to and fro 
Among my poor, to heal, to comfort, to befriend— 
 
 
 
[She kneels before him. 
GABRIELE.  Nay, lady, never kneel !  I am come in peace. 
Attend ! 
This is my warrant.  Since dissensions are so rife, 
That Venice and its prince are seething with the strife 
Of factions that have filled even the council hall 
With violences unskilled, we mean to end it all. 
You, lady, are adored by all the common folk. 
Your word may be a sword. 
MONICA. 
My lord, I never spoke. 
One syllable but peace. 
GABRIELE. 
That is the word I seek. 
MONICA.  The strong bid trouble cease :  mere war is for the 
weak. 
GABRIELE.  Else—here’s the hand of steel !  This warrant 
witnesseth.