20 
MORTADELLO 
 
With your design, I spell its inner sense, my lord— 
If Magdalena were my guest until the rite ? 
GABRIELE.  The auguries are fair ;  you double my delight. 
But bid your cook beware ;  double the taster’s share ; 
Imagine my despair if . . . 
MONICA. 
It shall be my care. 
And here’s a hint.  You set a match ;  then never let 
The opponent see the threat. 
GABRIELE. 
I am rebuked ; and yet 
You will forgive me, for the habit only stains 
My mind, because before my opponents had no brains. 
MONICA.  Farewell, then, and God have you in his holy 
keeping. 
I go to tend a grave where there’s a widow weeping. 
GABRIELE.  You have doubled my regard with prudence as 
with pity. 
The name all give you, guardian angel of the city. 
You have thrice earned, be sure !—a life both good and 
great, 
Protectress of the poor, and saviour of the state. 
 
 
 
[He retires amid the sbirri. 
ORLANDO.  Madwoman !  we are lost. 
MONICA. 
 
Oh No !  we have gained time. 
Whose star was never crossed ?  Success may crown the 
crime. 
First, there’s the corpse to find. 
ORLANDO. 
 
What good is that to us ? 
MONICA.  There’s something in my mind—it’s idle to dis-
cuss— 
But something whispers we shall need it. 
ORLANDO. 
How ?