60 
MORTADELLO 
 
MONICA. 
 
The cup is spiced, 
But there is none whose thirst may quench itself thereby, 
And there is none that dares to drench, or drain it dry. 
ORLANDO.  Ah, but again ! 
 
 
 
[A dull detonation is heard without. 
MONICA. 
Hark !  Hark !  O what is that ? 
ORLANDO. 
 
The gate ! 
Impossible 
MONICA. 
Shot follows shot. 
ORLANDO. 
They are mad. 
MONICA. 
But wait ! 
All’s silent now. 
ORLANDO. 
No !  I hear cries, and blows rung hard 
On sconce and skull 
MONICA. 
Ah !  God, hope dies. 
 
 
 
[Another detonation is heard. 
ORLANDO. 
 
There’s the petard. 
They must have blown in the two gates. 
MONICA. 
 
Then we are dead. 
ORLANDO.  Not while this sword’s unbroken. 
MONICA. 
Fate’s no friend. 
ORLANDO. 
 
Unsaid 
The holiest, happiest things.  Here comes a guard.  Pre-
pare 
For evil tidings. 
MONICA. 
Martyrdom’s to be our share. 
Well, ’tis the accustomed crown of true virginity ! 
Ha Ha !  How God must laugh !  Do you think we must die ? 
ORLANDO.  They daren’t kill you.  And as for me, I’ll sell 
my life. 
So dear I doubt they have the fee.