32 
MORTADELLO 
 
ZELINA.  Cesspool of lust ! 
LUCREZIA. 
 
See, there’s a beggar might take pity 
And share his crust with you. 
ZELINA. 
You scour-pot of the city ! 
LUCREZIA.  Take care ! 
ZELINA. 
Take care of what ? 
LUCREZIA. 
 
Of all your own diseases ! 
You poison air ;  be off, and don’t pollute the breezes. 
ZELINA.  Oh !  I’ll be gone.  To talk to you is too degrading. 
Who ruined John of Padua ?  How came Carlo’s roses 
fading ? 
How did the brave Bandello die ?  I’ the lazar-hole, 
Cursing. 
LUCREZIA.  You rave. 
ZELINA. 
Who sent black Straparola’s soul 
To hell ?  Your knife.  Who stabbed Bartolemmeo ?  You 
LUCREZIA.  Did Andrea’s wife not spit on you ?  Who robbed 
the Jew 
She slept with ?  Faugh !  my stomach turns. 
ZELINA. 
 
It shall, it shall ! 
Here’s all the law one gives to such an animal. 
[She stabs her ;  LUCREZIA wards the blow, but is 
wounded in the breast. 
LUCREZIA.  Oh !  I am killed. 
ZELINA. 
Farewell ! 
 
MORTADELLO enters from church. 
MORTADELLO. 
 Hold !  seize them.  What !  Are brawls 
Held and blood spilled beneath these venerable walls ? 
Take them away, and keep them safe, to wait my pleasure.