98 
MORTADELLO 
 
Divinely tall and thin, the strings of the guitars 
Are not so slender as she, so tremulous and trim 
LORENZO. 
Oh buxom girls for me ! 
 
 
 
Well, I prefer them slim ! 
 
[To the lady beside him.]  Here’s to your eyes, my dove ! 
 
 
 
[All appear startled and shocked. 
2ND MASK. 
 
Take care, my lord, I hope 
You will not allow love to make you slight the Pope ! 
1ST MASK.  Then drink his Holiness, and get the business 
done. 
2ND MASK.  A pretty sort of mess you have just missed, my 
son ! 
LORENZO.  Oh here’s the good old Pope, long may he live 
and reign ! 
And when he dies, I hope he may rise again. 
 
 
[All but MORTADELLO drink saying “ The Pope.” 
2ND MASK.  Easy, lad, easy.  But, my lord, you do not drink ! 
MORTADELLO.  It seems I’m bound to shut my mouth—but 
may I think ? 
1ST MASK.  What do you mean ? 
MORTADELLO. 
 
I mean—I will not tell you what. 
Pass round the wine.  God’s teen !  Am I the Doge or not ? 
Here’s to the Pope ;  I fear all is not right at Rome. 
We have a legate here that he might need at home. 
ALESSANDRO.  I take your thought.  A need at Rome for 
more divines ! 
The legate—well, God speed him through the Apennines ! 
1ST MASK.  But here the girls at last come swaying up the 
stair. 
And how their tresses cast faint fragrance on the air !