Mortadello

OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 83 MONICA. Yet in an hour we must change rings ! MORTADELLO. To be betrothed ! O let me die ! MONICA. Why yes ! and leave me to my hope By virtue—and address—to pacify the Pope. MORTADELLO. All I have played for, all my life long, lost ! MONICA. No, won ! There’s naught beyond recall, no deed to be undone. Take Venice, take the throne, take favour and success All yours and yours alone—in married happiness ! A price to pay that most would call a prize to pluck ! MORTADELLO. Oh, I am like to boast of such a piece of luck ! Not for one instant dream that I’m your dupe. Your hate Glows forth its icy gleam from eyes emasculate ! MONICA. Oh, I will teach you how those eyes can burn and glow, Swear the volcanic vow within the breast of snow ! MORTADELLO. I wonder if you can. MONICA. Yes ! yes ! you must consent. Come ! I adore a man so stout and excellent. I even adore the scorn and hate wherewith you load My love. MORTADELLO. False witch forsworn ! I loathe you like a toad : Yet, let me own it, stirs deep in some primal slime Some passion that prefers your crapulence and crime. MONICA. The people wait ! MORTADELLO. Anon. MONICA. Here is my ring. MORTADELLO. Not yet ! My God ! I stand upon what edge ? MONICA. Forgive : forget.