50 
MORTADELLO 
 
Money is money :  I’ve too much in desperate ventures ; 
I’ve lost ten thousand sequins, such are Fate’s calentures.” 
MORTADELLO.  This is the old tale. 
GABRIELE. 
 
So I sneered.  He looked me hard 
Between the eyes, and in his beard his malice jarred. 
“ Here’s a doubloon :  you promise me seven more to-
morrow ? 
Back in my pouch I slap it.  See ?” 
MORTADELLO. 
 
You could not borrow 
Upon the credit of the State ? 
GABRIELE. 
Not one doubloon. 
MORTADELLO.  Why, this is treason ! 
GABRIELE. 
That or Fate. 
MORTADELLO. 
 
Knave or buffoon, 
I’ll tan his hide.  D’ye think he lends to the Princess ? 
GABRIELE.  How can I say ?  She has good friends. 
MORTADELLO. 
 
Mine are no less. 
Where’s the assassin ? 
GABRIELE. 
 
The black dog—I cannot find him. 
Or Satan or the Synagogue must be behind him. 
Well, we must find. 
MORTADELLO. 
 
If we might dare to cry a price—— 
GABRIELE.  The powder magazine would flare—and not flare 
twice. 
Our safety is the doubt we spread of our intent. 
MORTADELLO.  Proclaim her whore. 
GABRIELE. 
 
The hope that fed that lamp is spent. 
On of the Ten—the Ten, I say—in jest explains 
His views this morning—what’s his pay ?  Ducked for his 
pains 
MORTADELLO.  They ducked a member of the Ten ?