OR, THE ANGEL OF VENICE 
81 
 
MORTADELLO. 
 
The devil may have wrought 
This miracle on you. 
MONICA. 
And on St. Francis too ! 
Between the false and true there’s wisdom’s work to do. 
MORTADELLO.  Well, this I know for sure, you are possessed. 
MONICA. 
 
Possessed ? 
Ay, there lies many a lure of perfume in my breast. 
MORTADELLO.  Ha !  did Orlando sin with you ?  I guessed 
aright. 
MONICA.  Have you no wage to win ?  Day’s wont to follow 
night. 
MORTADELLO.  Cynic as wanton. 
MONICA. 
 Well ?  Come, you are cold, you are cold ! 
MORTADELLO.  She-devil sprung from hell !  Where is that 
bosom’s gold 
Of Magdalene ? —cold too ! 
MONICA. 
I envied her the bliss. 
Of her black love—and you !  Now, am I worth a kiss ? 
MORTADELLO. 
I have it in my mind to end with you outright. 
MONICA. And you yourself might find an end before to-
night. 
MORTADELLO.  Oh !  you are cunning ! 
MONICA. 
 
Love is given wit, you know. 
Begotten from above, and nourished from below ! 
MORTADELLO.  Why did you spare my life just now ? 
MONICA. 
 
Why, first of all, 
I want to be your wife. 
MORTADELLO. 
Dear God forbid ! 
MONICA. 
To enthrall 
You, body and soul, to win the prize my rival won. 
Do you think there is a sin I would have left undone ?