Mortadello

64 MORTADELLO Beneath the blessings from her false lips lisped, is choked, The teeth o’ the tigress clenched in death. The heart that smoked Hell’s lust is cold. ORLANDO. [Turns and sees MONICA, as he thinks, dead] God, then my sword drink vengeance deep ! GABRIELE. This thrust balk thy revenge ! [GABRIELE stabs him treacherously in his amazement. ORLANDO. O treacherous dagger-sweep ! GABRIELE. Ay ! she’s not dead, black fool ! But mine for the torture—Drink Black lees of hell’s own wine, thy poisoned soul to sink In mire and filth of agony, shame—Christ, I’ll drench Desire of hate in her own rotting body’s stench. But death—not death ! Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! ORLANDO. I am a dead man. GABRIELE. He saith it ! Now to achieve the pinnacle of my plan ! Princess, I arrest you in the Doge’s name. MONICA. Arrest ! GABRIELE. No less ! MONICA. [Rising with arms outstretched.] Nay, look, my lord, behold my hands, my breast, My feet ! [It is seen that she bears the bleeding stigmata of Christ. GABRIELE. What ! THE SOLDIERS. ’Tis a miracle of God. GABRIELE. You fools ! Deceit o’ the devil, rather. Will you be the tools Of a whore ? MONICA. [Raising her crystal cross and advancing upon him