Mortadello

54 MORTADELLO Speeding upon the darkmans road to their fell work ! I have seen such. LUCREZIA. So is my thought. How should I speak To you, all love of lilies wrought ? MONICA. Give me your cheek I’ll kiss your fear away, sweet girl. I’ll whisper things Subtler than basilisks that furl and fold their wings Over the serpent-heart. I guess your heart’s desire. Bend to me closer. Whisper yes. LUCREZIA. My brain’s afire. MONICA. Then whisper. LUCREZIA. I dare not. MONICA. Oh dare ! LUCREZIA. My friend ! MONICA. Ah yes ! She whose black envy would not spare your loveliness ! LUCREZIA. Ay, she ! MONICA. But let me see the wound. I have a charm By a wise hermit well attuned to heal the harm. Fie ! what a scar ! But what a breast its hate caresses ! Is not this nipple like the crest of Etna ? Tresses Of gold. Let down your locks ; let fall, Lucrezia, let Their sunshine kindle mine, a pall of snaky jet ! My mouth is thin like Saturn’s ring, your mouth is red As Mars, a sword, a snake to sting, a sun to shed Life on all wanderers in the maze of love, a moon To curve, and Venus’ self to craze. LUCREZIA. O tender tune ! You know the secret of all sweetness. MONICA. No ! ’tis you Who are too fair.