2 
MORTADELLO 
 
The history of the world, ay !  and of God that made it— 
All lies close coiled and curled in a babe’s brain. 
LORENZO. 
Obeyed it 
His law when you discourse so airily thereon ? 
I think you make the source of all things—the Sorbonne ! 
ALESSANDRO.  Well, the three years we spent were worth a 
score at home. 
LORENZO.  I am glad enough we went ;  but all roads lead to 
Rome. 
ALESSANDRO.  All yours to sentiment !  Well, here we are at 
home. 
And nobody has blabbed the news your fervour feared. 
Which of our friends are stabbed, how long the Doge’s 
beard 
Has grown in these three years, the jovial old rogue ! 
What course his galley steers, what girls are in the vogue ! 
Lucrezia anyhow is none the worse for wear ; 
For here she comes, I vow ! 
LORENZO. 
O fairest of the fair ! 
ALESSANDRO.  Zelina on her arm. 
LORENZO. 
 
You craze ! 
You’ll surely come to harm from sleeping in her rays ! 
 
Enter LUCREZIA and ZELINA. 
LUCREZIA.  Sandro ! 
ZELINA.  
It’s Sandro ! 
ALESSANDRO. 
Yes ! 
LUCREZIA. 
We thought you were in France. 
ALESSANDRO.  And not such a bad guess