Mortadello

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.