Denial of the divinity of Joy!
[Throws sprays over Porzia, takes her hand and they go singing. All follow, but Osio and Bianca.
Osio (when their steps have died; in cold rage).
You shall hear more of this, my pretty brother!
Prater of pagan doubts!
Whom—but that God may use it—I would curse
For the resemblance that our mother gave us!
For, by the living blood of San Gennaro,
In yon Duomo, the scoffing siren song
Of heresy that swells in you shall cease,