Pietro. Then—
They weep and pine—until I must console them.
Smarda (going to where he poses; contemptuously). And for all this, O prince of paramours,
(He is startled.)
My lady has no doubt bid you to sail
From Venice.
Pietro. Slave?
Smarda. And she will hear with love
That you delay the powers of the Senate
Sent in your keeping to her.
Pietro. She!
Smarda. Oh, with
(As he twitches.)
Love and delight—for urgently she waits them!
And then—then of your amorous mouthings yonder!