Mortadello

82 MORTADELLO MORTADELLO. You might have ruled alone in Venice— who’s above you ? MONICA. A cold distasteful throne—I tell you that I love you. And then I am afraid of what the Pope may say About the prank I played on you the other day. And then—my smile might fall too sudden to a sob. I don’t care that [she makes a gesture of contempt] for all the favour of the mob. Your friends have real power ; mine’s but the power of storm. It’s over in an hour ; your sun is always warm. MORTADELLO. If it were so, I think you would not be so frank. MONICA. Yes, but I shall not sink ; you make a perfect plank. This hour is mine ; and this shall breed me many more. Your Charon-fee’s a kiss—and I shall come to shore. MORTADELLO. I would as soon espouse a trull upon the quays. MONICA. My beauty can arouse no kinder thoughts than these ? Ah, but, my lord, you must forget the past, forgive The wrong. Love springs from lust. MORTADELLO. There’s an alternative. MONICA. O not for you ! Look here, this budding breast of mine ! Here bleeds yet from the spear that slew my God and thine Its wound. O fond and fierce ! Rude Roman, happiest ? Have you no spear to pierce—oh not the baby breast ? MORTADELLO. I tremble with disgust—thing infinitely loathed !