Mortadello

38 MORTADELLO THE DOGE. [To MORTADELLO.] Hush ! you don’t know his power. MORTADELLO. I ? who can beard me thus ? The bridal procession enters. The corpse of MAGDALENA in bride-clothes, veiled in a great chair under a canopy borne by four negroes, MONICA, the LADY ABBESS, nuns and attendants. GABRIELE. Look ! where she bursts, a flower, veiled and voluptuous. Not Venus in her car by doves and sparrows drawn, Not the ethereal star that floats above the dawn, Not the seraphic swan that tempted Leda glowed So white a wonder on the lake. THE USHERS. A road ! A road ! Way for the high Princess, the bride who brings ! Make way ! MONICA. All health and happiness to all men here to-day ! With homage to the Doge my word is well begun. Next to the most high prince invulnerable, his son. Last, to the lords who by their attitude applaud This day of burial to faction, feud, and fraud. God and his blessed Son and Holy Ghost attest Their sanction and their seal on whom we boast our best, When in the sacred bonds of Hymen he is wed To her we boast our fairest. Tyranny is dead In this great hour. For me—my day of force is done ; My mission is achieved, my latest course is run. I have striven to save the State ; the State is saved to-day : Now I devote my life to what it craved—to pray ! Good Mother Abbess, lend your arm, my past is furled.