OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 
79 
 
If He could bear the scourge, the buffet, and the cross, 
What, shall His servants burn to avenge some paltry loss ? 
For shame, good Mother !  Duke, I beg to speak with you. 
I would take counsel with you how to quell this brew 
Of witches’ storm.  Mount hither, I beseech you !  Friends, 
God will instruct us yet how all the turmoil ends. 
Wait here, and pray for me, that wisdom may inform 
My helmsman to ride through the centre of the storm ! 
MORTADELLO.  Princess, you earn my thanks, even as you 
break my pride. 
I will speak with you, shamed.  I would that I had died 
There at the hands of the mob :  I might have matched you 
then. 
Make way there !  God bring all to favour, gentlemen ! 
[The mob in angry silence make way for him to pass.  
MONICA, raising her hands in blessing, retires 
from the window. 
 
 
 
SCENE III.  The room of THE GOVERNOR.  MONICA closes 
the window. 
 
MONICA.  Leave me in peace, my lord, I shall not try to 
escape. 
GOVERNOR.  With heartiest accord. 
 
 
 
[He goes out, with her gaolers. 
 
 
 
Faugh !  the perspiring ape. 
I may not dare to smile, lest smiles should lure a laugh. 
The moment I’ll beguile to write his epitaph. 
I touch the goal at last ;  the final ace to play.