Mortadello

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 !