Puppet Man. Is it from the gospels, or a saint's story?
Abbe Filosi. Humbly, it is the story of Judith.
Puppet Man. Humbly, as an artist, I am filled with delight. And I have for it just the figures you could wish. A Judith, lovely beyond the power of song, and a Prince, heavy with gold, and a cavalier for the lady—
Abbe Filosi. That will not serve. In my play she goes with only her maid-servant to the tent of the Holophernes.
Puppet Man. It is not usual, in Venice. Will it not be deemed strange by the ladies present?
Abbe Filosi. Better so, than its author be deemed ignorant by the learned Reverendissima, who will grace your performance personally.
Puppet Man [stiffly]. I bow to your learning, Reverend Father.
Abbe Filosi. My poem will require of you some artistry, and not all of the stale and accustomed sort.
[The Puppet Man bows.]
I shall require, for example, that the head of the Holophernes be actually and visibly severed.