6 
MORTADELLO 
 
But as mills give no flour unless we put some grist in, 
I ask you what her power and eminence consist in. 
LUCREZIA.  Oh !  she has all the love that common folk can 
give her. 
ALESSANDRO.  It’s rain from heaven above that goes to make 
a river. 
LUCREZIA.  Springs swell it. 
ALESSANDRO. 
True. 
LUCREZIA. 
 
Beside she has wealth and rank. 
ALESSANDRO. 
 
Mere foam. 
LUCREZIA.  But foam upon the tide of her prestige at Rome. 
Niece of a pope, adored already as a saint. 
ALESSANDRO.  That’s something like a sword ! 
LORENZO. 
 
And yet her followers faint. 
LUCREZIA.  Ah !  there’s a fear abroad, a bilboes of con-
straint 
The irons are not rusted that hold our folk in fee ; 
And Mortadello’s trusted—the trusted of the Three. 
ALESSANDRO.  Well, I am freedom’s friend :  my sword is idle 
long. 
When I am wanted, send. 
LUCREZIA. 
 
God keep your purpose strong. 
But what a blistering night ! 
ZELINA.  
I stifle. 
LORENZO. 
Is there wind, 
Should we row seaward ? 
LUCREZIA. 
Light. 
ALESSANDRO. 
We’ll try it.  Can you find 
A gondola ? 
LUCREZIA. 
There’s one in the shadow. 
ALESSANDRO. 
Gondolier !