_ They are, in all
maternal
things.
Byron
_ Let us address us then, since so it must be,
To our departure. Who comes here?
_Enter_ LOREDANO _attended by Familiars_.
_Lor. _ (_to the Familiars_). Retire,
But leave the torch. [_Exeunt the two Familiars_.
_Jac. Fos. _ Most welcome, noble Signor.
I did not deem this poor place could have drawn 250
Such presence hither.
_Lor. _ 'Tis not the first time
I have visited these places.
_Mar. _ Nor would be
The last, were all men's merits well rewarded.
Came you here to insult us, or remain[bp]
As spy upon us, or as hostage for us?
_Lor. _ Neither are of my office, noble Lady!
I am sent hither to your husband, to
Announce "the Ten's" decree.
_Mar. _ That tenderness
Has been anticipated: it is known.
_Lor. _ As how?
_Mar. _ I have informed him, not so gently, 260
Doubtless, as your nice feelings would prescribe,
The indulgence of your colleagues; but he knew it.
If you come for our thanks, take them, and hence!
The dungeon gloom is deep enough without you,
And full of reptiles, not less loathsome, though
Their sting is honester.
_Jac. Fos. _ I pray you, calm you:
What can avail such words?
_Mar. _ To let him know
That he is known.
_Lor. _ Let the fair dame preserve
Her sex's privilege.
_Mar. _ I have some sons, sir,
Will one day thank you better.
_Lor. _ You do well 270
To nurse them wisely. Foscari--you know
Your sentence, then?
_Jac. Fos. _ Return to Candia?
_Lor. _ True--
For life.
_Jac. Fos. _ Not long.
_Lor. _ I said--for _life_.
_Jac. Fos. _ And I
Repeat--not long.
_Lor. _ A year's imprisonment
In Canea--afterwards the freedom of
The whole isle.
_Jac. Fos. _ Both the same to me: the after
Freedom as is the first imprisonment.
Is't true my wife accompanies me?
_Lor. _ Yes,
If she so wills it.
_Mar. _ Who obtained that justice?
_Lor. _ One who wars not with women.
_Mar. _ But oppresses 280
Men: howsoever let him have _my_ thanks
For the only boon I would have asked or taken
From him or such as he is.
_Lor. _ He receives them
As they are offered.
_Mar. _ May they thrive with him
So much! --no more.
_Jac. Fos. _ Is this, sir, your whole mission?
Because we have brief time for preparation,
And you perceive your presence doth disquiet
This lady, of a house noble as yours.
_Mar. _ Nobler!
_Lor. _ How nobler?
_Mar. _ As more generous!
We say the "generous steed" to express the purity 290
Of his high blood. Thus much I've learnt, although
Venetian (who see few steeds save of bronze),[67]
From those Venetians who have skirred[68] the coasts
Of Egypt and her neighbour Araby:
And why not say as soon the "_generous man_? "
If race be aught, it is in qualities
More than in years; and mine, which is as old
As yours, is better in its product, nay--
Look not so stern--but get you back, and pore
Upon your genealogic tree's most green 300
Of leaves and most mature of fruits, and there
Blush to find ancestors, who would have blushed
For such a son--thou cold inveterate hater!
_Jac. Fos. _ Again, Marina!
_Mar. _ Again! _still_, Marina.
See you not, he comes here to glut his hate
With a last look upon our misery?
Let him partake it!
_Jac. Fos. _ That were difficult.
_Mar. _ Nothing more easy. He partakes it now--
Aye, he may veil beneath a marble brow
And sneering lip the pang, but he partakes it. 310
A few brief words of truth shame the Devil's servants
No less than Master; I have probed his soul
A moment, as the Eternal Fire, ere long,
Will reach it always. See how he shrinks from me!
With death, and chains, and exile in his hand,
To scatter o'er his kind as he thinks fit;
They are his weapons, not his armour, for
I have pierced him to the core of his cold heart.
I care not for his frowns! We can but die,
And he but live, for him the very worst 320
Of destinies: each day secures him more
His tempter's.
_Jac. Fos. _ This is mere insanity.
_Mar. _ It may be so; and _who_ hath made us _mad_?
_Lor. _ Let her go on; it irks not me.
_Mar. _ That's false!
You came here to enjoy a heartless triumph
Of cold looks upon manifold griefs! You came
To be sued to in vain--to mark our tears,
And hoard our groans--to gaze upon the wreck
Which you have made a Prince's son--my husband;
In short, to trample on the fallen--an office 330
The hangman shrinks from, as all men from him!
How have you sped? We are wretched, Signor, as
Your plots could make, and vengeance could desire us,
And how _feel you_?
_Lor. _ As rocks.
_Mar. _ By thunder blasted:
They feel not, but no less are shivered. Come,
Foscari; now let us go, and leave this felon,
The sole fit habitant of such a cell,
Which he has peopled often, but ne'er fitly
Till he himself shall brood in it alone.
_Enter the_ DOGE.
_Jac. Fos. _ My father!
_Doge_ (_embracing him_). Jacopo! my son--my son! 340
_Jac. Fos. _ My father still! How long it is since I
Have heard thee name my name--_our_ name!
_Doge_. My boy!
Couldst thou but know----
_Jac. Fos. _ I rarely, sir, have murmured.
_Doge_. I feel too much thou hast not.
_Mar. _ Doge, look there!
[_She points to_ LOREDANO.
_Doge_. I see the man--what mean'st thou?
_Mar. _ Caution!
_Lor. _ Being
The virtue which this noble lady most[bq]
May practise, she doth well to recommend it.
_Mar. _ Wretch! 'tis no virtue, but the policy
Of those who fain must deal perforce with vice:
As such I recommend it, as I would 350
To one whose foot was on an adder's path.
_Doge_. Daughter, it is superfluous; I have long
Known Loredano.
_Lor. _ You may know him better.
_Mar. _ Yes; _worse_ he could not.
_Jac. Fos. _ Father, let not these
Our parting hours be lost in listening to
Reproaches, which boot nothing. Is it--is it,
Indeed, our last of meetings?
_Doge_. You behold
These white hairs!
_Jac. Fos. _ And I feel, besides, that mine
Will never be so white. Embrace me, father!
I loved you ever--never more than now. 360
Look to my children--to your last child's children:
Let them be all to you which he was once,
And never be to you what I am now.
May I not see _them_ also?
_Mar. _ No--not _here_.
_Jac. Fos. _ They might behold their parent any where.
_Mar. _ I would that they beheld their father in
A place which would not mingle fear with love,
To freeze their young blood in its natural current.
They have fed well, slept soft, and knew not that
Their sire was a mere hunted outlaw. Well, 370
I know his fate may one day be their heritage,
But let it only be their _heritage_,
And not their present fee. Their senses, though
Alive to love, are yet awake to terror;
And these vile damps, too, and yon _thick green_ wave
Which floats above the place where we now stand--
A cell so far below the water's level,
Sending its pestilence through every crevice,
Might strike them: _this is not their_ atmosphere,
However you--and you--and most of all, 380
As worthiest--_you_, sir, noble Loredano!
May breathe it without prejudice.
_Jac. Fos. _ I had not
Reflected upon this, but acquiesce.
I shall depart, then, without meeting them?
_Doge_. Not so: they shall await you in my chamber.
_Jac. Fos. _ And must I leave them--_all_?
_Lor. _ You must.
_Jac. Fos. _ Not one?
_Lor. _ They are the State's.
_Mar. _ I thought they had been mine.
_Lor.
_ They are, in all maternal things.
_Mar. _ That is,
In all things painful. If they're sick, they will
Be left to me to tend them; should they die, 390
To me to bury and to mourn; but if
They live, they'll make you soldiers, senators,
Slaves, exiles--what _you_ will; or if they are
Females with portions, brides and _bribes_ for nobles!
Behold the State's care for its sons and mothers!
_Lor. _ The hour approaches, and the wind is fair.
_Jac. Fos. _ How know you that here, where the genial wind
Ne'er blows in all its blustering freedom?
_Lor. _ 'Twas so
When I came here. The galley floats within
A bow-shot of the "Riva di Schiavoni. " 400
_Jac. Fos. _ Father! I pray you to precede me, and
Prepare my children to behold their father.
_Doge_. Be firm, my son!
_Jac. Fos. _ I will do my endeavour.
_Mar. _ Farewell! at least to this detested dungeon,
And him to whose good offices you owe
In part your past imprisonment.
_Lor. _ And present
Liberation.
_Doge_. He speaks truth.
_Jac. Fos. _ No doubt! but 'tis
Exchange of chains for heavier chains I owe him.
He knows this, or he had not sought to change them,
But I reproach not.
_Lor. _ The time narrows, Signor. 410
_Jac. Fos. _ Alas! I little thought so lingeringly
To leave abodes like this: but when I feel
That every step I take, even from this cell,
Is one away from Venice, I look back
Even on these dull damp walls, and----
_Doge_. Boy! no tears.
_Mar. _ Let them flow on: he wept not on the rack
To shame him, and they cannot shame him now.
They will relieve his heart--that too kind heart--
And I will find an hour to wipe away
Those tears, or add my own. I could weep now, 420
But would not gratify yon wretch so far.
Let us proceed. Doge, lead the way.
_Lor. _ (_to the Familiar_). The torch, there!
_Mar. _ Yes, light us on, as to a funeral pyre,
With Loredano mourning like an heir.
_Doge_. My son, you are feeble; take this hand.
_Jac. Fos. _ Alas!
Must youth support itself on age, and I
Who ought to be the prop of yours?
_Lor. _ Take mine.
_Mar. _ Touch it not, Foscari; 'twill sting you. Signor,
Stand off! be sure, that if a grasp of yours
Would raise us from the gulf wherein we are plunged, 430
No hand of ours would stretch itself to meet it.
Come, Foscari, take the hand the altar gave you;
It could not save, but will support you ever. [_Exeunt_.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. --_A Hall in the Ducal Palace_.
_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.
_Bar. _ And have you confidence in such a project?
_Lor. _ I have.
_Bar. _ 'Tis hard upon his years.
_Lor. _ Say rather
Kind to relieve him from the cares of State.
_Bar. _ 'Twill break his heart.
_Lor. _ Age has no heart to break.
He has seen his son's half broken, and, except
A start of feeling in his dungeon, never
Swerved.
_Bar. _ In his countenance, I grant you, never;
But I have seen him sometimes in a calm
So desolate, that the most clamorous grief
Had nought to envy him within. Where is he? 10
_Lor. _ In his own portion of the palace, with
His son, and the whole race of Foscaris.
_Bar. _ Bidding farewell.
_Lor. _ A last! as, soon, he shall
Bid to his Dukedom.
_Bar. _ When embarks the son?
_Lor. _ Forthwith--when this long leave is taken. 'Tis
Time to admonish them again.
_Bar. _ Forbear;
Retrench not from their moments.
_Lor. _ Not I, now
We have higher business for our own. This day
Shall be the last of the old Doge's reign,
As the first of his son's last banishment, 20
And that is vengeance.
_Bar. _ In my mind, too deep.
_Lor. _ 'Tis moderate--not even life for life, the rule
Denounced of retribution from all time;
They owe me still my father's and my uncle's.
_Bar. _ Did not the Doge deny this strongly?
_Lor. _ Doubtless.
_Bar. _ And did not this shake your suspicion?
_Lor. _ No.
_Bar. _ But if this deposition should take place
By our united influence in the Council,
It must be done with all the deference
Due to his years, his station, and his deeds. 30
_Lor. _ As much of ceremony as you will,
So that the thing be done. You may, for aught
I care, depute the Council on their knees,
(Like Barbarossa to the Pope,) to beg him
To have the courtesy to abdicate.
_Bar. _ What if he will not?
_Lor. _ We'll elect another,
And make him null.
_Bar. _ But will the laws uphold us? [69]
_Lor. _ What laws? --"The Ten" are laws; and if they were not,
I will be legislator in this business.
_Bar. _ At your own peril?
_Lor. _ There is none, I tell you, 40
Our powers are such.
_Bar. _ But he has twice already
Solicited permission to retire,
And twice it was refused.
_Lor. _ The better reason
To grant it the third time.
_Bar. _ Unasked?
_Lor. _ It shows
The impression of his former instances:
If they were from his heart, he may be thankful:
If not, 'twill punish his hypocrisy.
Come, they are met by this time; let us join them,
And be _thou_ fixed in purpose for this once.
I have prepared such arguments as will not 50
Fail to move them, and to remove him: since
Their thoughts, their objects, have been sounded, do not
_You_, with your wonted scruples, teach us pause,
And all will prosper.
_Bar. _ Could I but be certain
This is no prelude to such persecution
Of the sire as has fallen upon the son,
I would support you.
_Lor. _ He is safe, I tell you;
His fourscore years and five may linger on
As long as he can drag them: 'tis his throne
Alone is aimed at.
_Bar. _ But discarded Princes 60
Are seldom long of life.
_Lor. _ And men of eighty
More seldom still.
_Bar. _ And why not wait these few years?
_Lor. _ Because we have waited long enough, and he
Lived longer than enough. Hence! in to council!
[_Exeunt_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.
_Enter_ MEMMO[70] _and a Senator_.
_Sen. _ A summons to "the Ten! " why so?
_Mem. _ "The Ten"
Alone can answer; they are rarely wont
To let their thoughts anticipate their purpose
By previous proclamation. We are summoned--
That is enough.
_Sen. _ For them, but not for us;
I would know why.
_Mem. _ You will know why anon, 70
If you obey: and, if not, you no less
Will know why you should have obeyed.
_Sen. _ I mean not
To oppose them, _but_----
_Mem. _ In Venice "_but_"'s a traitor.
But me no "_buts_" unless you would pass o'er
The Bridge which few repass. [71]
_Sen. _ I am silent.
_Mem. _ Why
Thus hesitate? "The Ten" have called in aid
Of their deliberation five and twenty
Patricians of the Senate--you are one,
And I another; and it seems to me
Both honoured by the choice or chance which leads us 80
To mingle with a body so august.
_Sen. _ Most true. I say no more.
_Mem. _ As we hope, Signor,
And all may honestly, (that is, all those
Of noble blood may,) one day hope to be
Decemvir, it is surely for the Senate's[br]
Chosen delegates, a school of wisdom, to
Be thus admitted, though as novices,
To view the mysteries.
_Sen. _ Let us view them: they,
No doubt, are worth it.
_Mem. _ Being worth our lives
If we divulge them, doubtless they are worth 90
Something, at least to you or me.
_Sen. _ I sought not
A place within the sanctuary; but being
Chosen, however reluctantly so chosen,
I shall fulfil my office.
_Mem. _ Let us not
Be latest in obeying "the Ten's" summons.
_Sen. _ All are not met, but I am of your thought
So far--let's in.
_Mem. _ The earliest are most welcome
In earnest councils--we will not be least so. [_Exeunt_.
_Enter the_ DOGE, JACOPO FOSCARI, _and_ MARINA.
_Jac. Fos. _ Ah, father!
To our departure. Who comes here?
_Enter_ LOREDANO _attended by Familiars_.
_Lor. _ (_to the Familiars_). Retire,
But leave the torch. [_Exeunt the two Familiars_.
_Jac. Fos. _ Most welcome, noble Signor.
I did not deem this poor place could have drawn 250
Such presence hither.
_Lor. _ 'Tis not the first time
I have visited these places.
_Mar. _ Nor would be
The last, were all men's merits well rewarded.
Came you here to insult us, or remain[bp]
As spy upon us, or as hostage for us?
_Lor. _ Neither are of my office, noble Lady!
I am sent hither to your husband, to
Announce "the Ten's" decree.
_Mar. _ That tenderness
Has been anticipated: it is known.
_Lor. _ As how?
_Mar. _ I have informed him, not so gently, 260
Doubtless, as your nice feelings would prescribe,
The indulgence of your colleagues; but he knew it.
If you come for our thanks, take them, and hence!
The dungeon gloom is deep enough without you,
And full of reptiles, not less loathsome, though
Their sting is honester.
_Jac. Fos. _ I pray you, calm you:
What can avail such words?
_Mar. _ To let him know
That he is known.
_Lor. _ Let the fair dame preserve
Her sex's privilege.
_Mar. _ I have some sons, sir,
Will one day thank you better.
_Lor. _ You do well 270
To nurse them wisely. Foscari--you know
Your sentence, then?
_Jac. Fos. _ Return to Candia?
_Lor. _ True--
For life.
_Jac. Fos. _ Not long.
_Lor. _ I said--for _life_.
_Jac. Fos. _ And I
Repeat--not long.
_Lor. _ A year's imprisonment
In Canea--afterwards the freedom of
The whole isle.
_Jac. Fos. _ Both the same to me: the after
Freedom as is the first imprisonment.
Is't true my wife accompanies me?
_Lor. _ Yes,
If she so wills it.
_Mar. _ Who obtained that justice?
_Lor. _ One who wars not with women.
_Mar. _ But oppresses 280
Men: howsoever let him have _my_ thanks
For the only boon I would have asked or taken
From him or such as he is.
_Lor. _ He receives them
As they are offered.
_Mar. _ May they thrive with him
So much! --no more.
_Jac. Fos. _ Is this, sir, your whole mission?
Because we have brief time for preparation,
And you perceive your presence doth disquiet
This lady, of a house noble as yours.
_Mar. _ Nobler!
_Lor. _ How nobler?
_Mar. _ As more generous!
We say the "generous steed" to express the purity 290
Of his high blood. Thus much I've learnt, although
Venetian (who see few steeds save of bronze),[67]
From those Venetians who have skirred[68] the coasts
Of Egypt and her neighbour Araby:
And why not say as soon the "_generous man_? "
If race be aught, it is in qualities
More than in years; and mine, which is as old
As yours, is better in its product, nay--
Look not so stern--but get you back, and pore
Upon your genealogic tree's most green 300
Of leaves and most mature of fruits, and there
Blush to find ancestors, who would have blushed
For such a son--thou cold inveterate hater!
_Jac. Fos. _ Again, Marina!
_Mar. _ Again! _still_, Marina.
See you not, he comes here to glut his hate
With a last look upon our misery?
Let him partake it!
_Jac. Fos. _ That were difficult.
_Mar. _ Nothing more easy. He partakes it now--
Aye, he may veil beneath a marble brow
And sneering lip the pang, but he partakes it. 310
A few brief words of truth shame the Devil's servants
No less than Master; I have probed his soul
A moment, as the Eternal Fire, ere long,
Will reach it always. See how he shrinks from me!
With death, and chains, and exile in his hand,
To scatter o'er his kind as he thinks fit;
They are his weapons, not his armour, for
I have pierced him to the core of his cold heart.
I care not for his frowns! We can but die,
And he but live, for him the very worst 320
Of destinies: each day secures him more
His tempter's.
_Jac. Fos. _ This is mere insanity.
_Mar. _ It may be so; and _who_ hath made us _mad_?
_Lor. _ Let her go on; it irks not me.
_Mar. _ That's false!
You came here to enjoy a heartless triumph
Of cold looks upon manifold griefs! You came
To be sued to in vain--to mark our tears,
And hoard our groans--to gaze upon the wreck
Which you have made a Prince's son--my husband;
In short, to trample on the fallen--an office 330
The hangman shrinks from, as all men from him!
How have you sped? We are wretched, Signor, as
Your plots could make, and vengeance could desire us,
And how _feel you_?
_Lor. _ As rocks.
_Mar. _ By thunder blasted:
They feel not, but no less are shivered. Come,
Foscari; now let us go, and leave this felon,
The sole fit habitant of such a cell,
Which he has peopled often, but ne'er fitly
Till he himself shall brood in it alone.
_Enter the_ DOGE.
_Jac. Fos. _ My father!
_Doge_ (_embracing him_). Jacopo! my son--my son! 340
_Jac. Fos. _ My father still! How long it is since I
Have heard thee name my name--_our_ name!
_Doge_. My boy!
Couldst thou but know----
_Jac. Fos. _ I rarely, sir, have murmured.
_Doge_. I feel too much thou hast not.
_Mar. _ Doge, look there!
[_She points to_ LOREDANO.
_Doge_. I see the man--what mean'st thou?
_Mar. _ Caution!
_Lor. _ Being
The virtue which this noble lady most[bq]
May practise, she doth well to recommend it.
_Mar. _ Wretch! 'tis no virtue, but the policy
Of those who fain must deal perforce with vice:
As such I recommend it, as I would 350
To one whose foot was on an adder's path.
_Doge_. Daughter, it is superfluous; I have long
Known Loredano.
_Lor. _ You may know him better.
_Mar. _ Yes; _worse_ he could not.
_Jac. Fos. _ Father, let not these
Our parting hours be lost in listening to
Reproaches, which boot nothing. Is it--is it,
Indeed, our last of meetings?
_Doge_. You behold
These white hairs!
_Jac. Fos. _ And I feel, besides, that mine
Will never be so white. Embrace me, father!
I loved you ever--never more than now. 360
Look to my children--to your last child's children:
Let them be all to you which he was once,
And never be to you what I am now.
May I not see _them_ also?
_Mar. _ No--not _here_.
_Jac. Fos. _ They might behold their parent any where.
_Mar. _ I would that they beheld their father in
A place which would not mingle fear with love,
To freeze their young blood in its natural current.
They have fed well, slept soft, and knew not that
Their sire was a mere hunted outlaw. Well, 370
I know his fate may one day be their heritage,
But let it only be their _heritage_,
And not their present fee. Their senses, though
Alive to love, are yet awake to terror;
And these vile damps, too, and yon _thick green_ wave
Which floats above the place where we now stand--
A cell so far below the water's level,
Sending its pestilence through every crevice,
Might strike them: _this is not their_ atmosphere,
However you--and you--and most of all, 380
As worthiest--_you_, sir, noble Loredano!
May breathe it without prejudice.
_Jac. Fos. _ I had not
Reflected upon this, but acquiesce.
I shall depart, then, without meeting them?
_Doge_. Not so: they shall await you in my chamber.
_Jac. Fos. _ And must I leave them--_all_?
_Lor. _ You must.
_Jac. Fos. _ Not one?
_Lor. _ They are the State's.
_Mar. _ I thought they had been mine.
_Lor.
_ They are, in all maternal things.
_Mar. _ That is,
In all things painful. If they're sick, they will
Be left to me to tend them; should they die, 390
To me to bury and to mourn; but if
They live, they'll make you soldiers, senators,
Slaves, exiles--what _you_ will; or if they are
Females with portions, brides and _bribes_ for nobles!
Behold the State's care for its sons and mothers!
_Lor. _ The hour approaches, and the wind is fair.
_Jac. Fos. _ How know you that here, where the genial wind
Ne'er blows in all its blustering freedom?
_Lor. _ 'Twas so
When I came here. The galley floats within
A bow-shot of the "Riva di Schiavoni. " 400
_Jac. Fos. _ Father! I pray you to precede me, and
Prepare my children to behold their father.
_Doge_. Be firm, my son!
_Jac. Fos. _ I will do my endeavour.
_Mar. _ Farewell! at least to this detested dungeon,
And him to whose good offices you owe
In part your past imprisonment.
_Lor. _ And present
Liberation.
_Doge_. He speaks truth.
_Jac. Fos. _ No doubt! but 'tis
Exchange of chains for heavier chains I owe him.
He knows this, or he had not sought to change them,
But I reproach not.
_Lor. _ The time narrows, Signor. 410
_Jac. Fos. _ Alas! I little thought so lingeringly
To leave abodes like this: but when I feel
That every step I take, even from this cell,
Is one away from Venice, I look back
Even on these dull damp walls, and----
_Doge_. Boy! no tears.
_Mar. _ Let them flow on: he wept not on the rack
To shame him, and they cannot shame him now.
They will relieve his heart--that too kind heart--
And I will find an hour to wipe away
Those tears, or add my own. I could weep now, 420
But would not gratify yon wretch so far.
Let us proceed. Doge, lead the way.
_Lor. _ (_to the Familiar_). The torch, there!
_Mar. _ Yes, light us on, as to a funeral pyre,
With Loredano mourning like an heir.
_Doge_. My son, you are feeble; take this hand.
_Jac. Fos. _ Alas!
Must youth support itself on age, and I
Who ought to be the prop of yours?
_Lor. _ Take mine.
_Mar. _ Touch it not, Foscari; 'twill sting you. Signor,
Stand off! be sure, that if a grasp of yours
Would raise us from the gulf wherein we are plunged, 430
No hand of ours would stretch itself to meet it.
Come, Foscari, take the hand the altar gave you;
It could not save, but will support you ever. [_Exeunt_.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. --_A Hall in the Ducal Palace_.
_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.
_Bar. _ And have you confidence in such a project?
_Lor. _ I have.
_Bar. _ 'Tis hard upon his years.
_Lor. _ Say rather
Kind to relieve him from the cares of State.
_Bar. _ 'Twill break his heart.
_Lor. _ Age has no heart to break.
He has seen his son's half broken, and, except
A start of feeling in his dungeon, never
Swerved.
_Bar. _ In his countenance, I grant you, never;
But I have seen him sometimes in a calm
So desolate, that the most clamorous grief
Had nought to envy him within. Where is he? 10
_Lor. _ In his own portion of the palace, with
His son, and the whole race of Foscaris.
_Bar. _ Bidding farewell.
_Lor. _ A last! as, soon, he shall
Bid to his Dukedom.
_Bar. _ When embarks the son?
_Lor. _ Forthwith--when this long leave is taken. 'Tis
Time to admonish them again.
_Bar. _ Forbear;
Retrench not from their moments.
_Lor. _ Not I, now
We have higher business for our own. This day
Shall be the last of the old Doge's reign,
As the first of his son's last banishment, 20
And that is vengeance.
_Bar. _ In my mind, too deep.
_Lor. _ 'Tis moderate--not even life for life, the rule
Denounced of retribution from all time;
They owe me still my father's and my uncle's.
_Bar. _ Did not the Doge deny this strongly?
_Lor. _ Doubtless.
_Bar. _ And did not this shake your suspicion?
_Lor. _ No.
_Bar. _ But if this deposition should take place
By our united influence in the Council,
It must be done with all the deference
Due to his years, his station, and his deeds. 30
_Lor. _ As much of ceremony as you will,
So that the thing be done. You may, for aught
I care, depute the Council on their knees,
(Like Barbarossa to the Pope,) to beg him
To have the courtesy to abdicate.
_Bar. _ What if he will not?
_Lor. _ We'll elect another,
And make him null.
_Bar. _ But will the laws uphold us? [69]
_Lor. _ What laws? --"The Ten" are laws; and if they were not,
I will be legislator in this business.
_Bar. _ At your own peril?
_Lor. _ There is none, I tell you, 40
Our powers are such.
_Bar. _ But he has twice already
Solicited permission to retire,
And twice it was refused.
_Lor. _ The better reason
To grant it the third time.
_Bar. _ Unasked?
_Lor. _ It shows
The impression of his former instances:
If they were from his heart, he may be thankful:
If not, 'twill punish his hypocrisy.
Come, they are met by this time; let us join them,
And be _thou_ fixed in purpose for this once.
I have prepared such arguments as will not 50
Fail to move them, and to remove him: since
Their thoughts, their objects, have been sounded, do not
_You_, with your wonted scruples, teach us pause,
And all will prosper.
_Bar. _ Could I but be certain
This is no prelude to such persecution
Of the sire as has fallen upon the son,
I would support you.
_Lor. _ He is safe, I tell you;
His fourscore years and five may linger on
As long as he can drag them: 'tis his throne
Alone is aimed at.
_Bar. _ But discarded Princes 60
Are seldom long of life.
_Lor. _ And men of eighty
More seldom still.
_Bar. _ And why not wait these few years?
_Lor. _ Because we have waited long enough, and he
Lived longer than enough. Hence! in to council!
[_Exeunt_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.
_Enter_ MEMMO[70] _and a Senator_.
_Sen. _ A summons to "the Ten! " why so?
_Mem. _ "The Ten"
Alone can answer; they are rarely wont
To let their thoughts anticipate their purpose
By previous proclamation. We are summoned--
That is enough.
_Sen. _ For them, but not for us;
I would know why.
_Mem. _ You will know why anon, 70
If you obey: and, if not, you no less
Will know why you should have obeyed.
_Sen. _ I mean not
To oppose them, _but_----
_Mem. _ In Venice "_but_"'s a traitor.
But me no "_buts_" unless you would pass o'er
The Bridge which few repass. [71]
_Sen. _ I am silent.
_Mem. _ Why
Thus hesitate? "The Ten" have called in aid
Of their deliberation five and twenty
Patricians of the Senate--you are one,
And I another; and it seems to me
Both honoured by the choice or chance which leads us 80
To mingle with a body so august.
_Sen. _ Most true. I say no more.
_Mem. _ As we hope, Signor,
And all may honestly, (that is, all those
Of noble blood may,) one day hope to be
Decemvir, it is surely for the Senate's[br]
Chosen delegates, a school of wisdom, to
Be thus admitted, though as novices,
To view the mysteries.
_Sen. _ Let us view them: they,
No doubt, are worth it.
_Mem. _ Being worth our lives
If we divulge them, doubtless they are worth 90
Something, at least to you or me.
_Sen. _ I sought not
A place within the sanctuary; but being
Chosen, however reluctantly so chosen,
I shall fulfil my office.
_Mem. _ Let us not
Be latest in obeying "the Ten's" summons.
_Sen. _ All are not met, but I am of your thought
So far--let's in.
_Mem. _ The earliest are most welcome
In earnest councils--we will not be least so. [_Exeunt_.
_Enter the_ DOGE, JACOPO FOSCARI, _and_ MARINA.
_Jac. Fos. _ Ah, father!
