Mortadello

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 ?