Serlio. And supped!
Though 'tis a Friday and the Pope is dead!
(Silence. They work faster.)
Hilarion. There, it is done. Now to the image.
Serlio. Well,
Olympio, the cock who fetched us, said
That image fell first on the day——
Hilarion. Tchuck! tchuck!
Better no breath about that lord of Paphos
Or any here. For till the dead are three
Days gone, you know—! But there's the woman. Feign.
(As Alessa re-enters; hypocritically.)
The blessed dead! in Purgatory may
They briefly bide.
Alessa (still troubled). What say you?
Hilarion. Ah!
I lay that it is wise never to foul
The dead, even in thinking,
For they may hear us, none can say, and once
My mother saw a dead man who had gone
Unshriven start up white and cry out loud
When he was curst.