44 
MORTADELLO 
 
A NOBLE. 
How is’t ? 
MORTADELLO.  [Waving his arms wildly.] 
I float 
On a tide of bloody foam through innavigable seas 
Where suns blaze on the masts of myriad argosies. 
I dazzle.  I burst.  I choke. 
A NOBLE. 
Give him air ! 
MORTADELLO. 
 
Where’s my sword ? 
O dreams accurst that blot my brain !  There’s fiends 
abroad ! 
Blast all this space of stars with thunder ! 
A NOBLE. 
 
’Tis his wound. 
He raves. 
MORTADELLO.  I’ll drink—— 
A NOBLE. 
Water, ho ! 
MORTADELLO. 
 
Her blood, and I’ll sleep sound ! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE CURTAIN FALLS.