OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 
75 
 
MONICA.  All my prayer is for the poor of the earth, 
Poor outcast things of little excellence or worth. 
ALESSANDRO.  Say, shall we rescue you ? 
MONICA. 
 
Father, Thy Kingdom come ! 
But—dare I ask ?—not yet—I would earn martyrdom. 
O men, if I must speak to men who thought no more 
To speak except to God, by the Lord Christ who bore 
Our sins upon the cross, I pray you pardon me 
So weakling as I am, a thing of vanity. 
I am jealous of my crowns ;  my virgin lilies mix 
With thorns of martyrdom upon my crucifix ! 
A CITIZEN.  What can we answer ? 
ALESSANDRO. 
 
Naught.  Be silent and adore ! 
[MONICA steps back from the window, her lips still moving 
as in prayer.  THE GOVERNOR comes forward to 
the window. 
GOVERNOR.  Well, she’s not dead, you see.  Can I do some-
thing more 
To please this noble company—of stinking kelp ? 
THE ABBESS.  [Rushing upon the bridge, her hair dishevelled 
and her robes torn.]  You bastard spawn of Satan, 
when I want your help 
I shall know how to ask for it.  You grin 
Who have locked up that Saint of Jesus Christ within 
Your slimy cells.  I know you, Pilate ! 
GOVERNOR. 
So you mean 
Mischief, I gather, Mistress Mary Magdalene ! 
ABBESS.  Good people, can you bear him to insult me ?  
Hear 
What horrors I can utter ! 
GOVERNOR. 
Horrors, never fear !