16 
MORTADELLO 
 
MONICA.  I fear to set the tune ;  I fear to cast the throw. 
ORLANDO.  Set back the rising moon !  Fate marches :  who 
says no ? 
Death broods upon the tide, and love beams far and wide ; 
You my betrothèd bride—athwart her corpse I stride ! 
Hide there beneath the porch !  I’ll strike upon the bell, 
Kindle the fatal torch to light her soul to hell. 
[He strikes the bell.  MAGDALENA appears at the 
window, dressed. 
My Magdalena !  You are ready ?  Love’s the tune ! 
Bare me your beauty to the night and the lagoon ! 
MAGDALENA.  I am ready.  
[She disappears. 
ORLANDO. 
To meet God !  your sulky soul must glide 
In a darker boat than mine, and cross a colder tide. 
 
 
 
[MAGDALENA opens the door, and comes out. 
MAGDALENA.  See !  but a silken shawl between you and your 
lover !  [She opens it, spreading her arms to enfold him. 
ORLANDO.  Between you and your thrall what mysteries 
uncover ! 
MAGDALENA.  What do you mean ? 
ORLANDO. 
 
Behold this crater-cup concealed. 
A flower of dusky gold upon the lilied field ! 
 
 
 
[He stoops and kisses her upon the navel. 
MAGDALENA.  Ay !  I have prayed what once fair Theodora 
prayed, 
Depth for such orisons as may content a maid. 
ORLANDO.  Your prayer is heard. 
MAGDALENA. 
Is heard ? 
ORLANDO. 
God grant me grace of guilt ! 
Here is my final word—this dagger to the hilt ! 
 
 
 
[He stabs her in the navel.