Barb. War with them too? Lored. With all their house, till theirs or mine are nothing.

Barb. And the deep agony of his pale wife, And the repress'd convulsion of the high And princely brow of his old father, which Broke forth in a slight shuddering, though rarely,

Or in some clammy drops, soon wiped away In stern serenity; these moved you not? [Exit Loredano. He's silent in his hate, as Foscari Was in his suffering; and the poor wretch moved me

More by his silence than a thousand outcries Could have effected. 'Twas a dreadful sight When his distracted wife broke through into 'The hall of our tribunal, and beheld What we could scarcely look upon,long used To such sights. I must think no more of this,

Lest I forget in this compassion for
Our foes their former injuries, and lose
The hold of vengeance Loredano plans
For him and me; but mine would be content
With-lesser retribution than he thirsts for,
And I would mitigate his deeper hatred
To milder thoughts; but, for the present,
Foscari

Has a short hourly respite, granted at
The instance of the elders of the Council,
Moved doubtless by his wife's appearance in
The hall, and his own sufferings. — Lo!
they come:

How feeble and forlorn! I cannot bear
To look on them again in this extremity:
I'll hence, and try to soften Loredano.
[Exit Barbarigo.

I found her Queen of Ocean, and I leave her
Lady of Lombardy: it is a comfort
That I have added to her diadem
The gems of Brescia and Ravenna; Crema
And Bergamo no less are hers; her realm
By land has grown by thus much in my
reign,

While her sea-sway has not shrunk.
Senator. "Tis most true,

And merits all our country's gratitude.
Doge. Perhaps so.

Senator. Which should be made manifest.
Doge. I have not complain'd, sir.
Senator. My good lord, forgive me.
Doge. For what?

Senator. My heart bleeds for you.
Doge. For me, signor?
Senator. And for your-
Doge. Stop!

Senator. It must have way, my lord:
I have too many duties towards you
And all your house, for past and present
kindness,

Not to feel deeply for your son.
Doge. Was this

In your commission?

Senator. What my lord?
Doge. This prattle

Of things you know not: but the treaty's signed;

Return with it to them who sent you. Senator. I obey. I had in charge, too, from the Council,

That you would fix an hour for their reunion.

Doge. Say, when they will-now, even

at this moment,

Doge. Bid her enter. Poor Marina! [Exit Attendant. [The Doge remains in silence as before. Enter MARINA.

Marina. I have ventured, father, on Your privacy.

Doge. I have none from you, my child. Command my time, when not commanded by The state.

Marina. I wish'd to speak to you of him.
Doge. Your husband?
Marina. And your son.

Doge. Proceed, my daughter!
Marina. I had obtained permission from
the Ten

To attend my husband for a limited number
Of hours.

Doge. You had so.
Marina. 'Tis revoked.
Doge. By whom?

Marina. The Ten. When we had reach'd the Bridge of Sighs, Which I prepared to pass with Foscari, The gloomy guardian of that passage first Demurr'd: a messenger was sent back to The Ten; but as the court no longer sate, And no permission had been given in writing, I was thrust back, with the assurance that Until that high tribunal re-assembled The dungeon-walls must still divide us. Doge. True,

The form has been omitted in the haste With which the court adjourn'd, and till it

You, who can talk thus calmly of a son In circumstances which would call forth tears

Of blood from Spartans! Though these did

not weep Their boys who died in battle, is it written That they beheld them perish piecemeal, nor Stretch'd forth a hand to save them?

Doge. You behold me:

I cannot weep-I would I could; but if Each white hair on this head were a young life,

This ducal cap the diadem of earth,
This ducal ring with which I wed the waves
A talisman to still them-I'd give all
For him.

Marina With less he surely might be
saved.

In all her mystery. Hear me- they who aim
At Foscari, aim no less at his father;
The sire's destruction would not save the son;
They work by different means to the same
end,

And that is-but they have not conquer'd yet.
Marina. But they have crush'd.
Doge. Nor crush'd as yet—I live.
Marina. And your son,-how long will
he live?
Doge. I trust,

For all that yet is past, as many years
And happier than his father. The rash boy,
With womanish impatience to return,
Hath ruin'd all by that detected letter;
A high crime, which I neither can deny
Nor palliate, as parent or as Duke:
Had he but borne a little, little longer
His Candiote exile, I had hopes-he has
quench'd them-

He must return.

Marina. To exile?
Doge. I have said it.

Marina. And can I not go with him?
Doge. You well know

This prayer of yours was twice denied before
By the assembled Ten, and hardly now
Will be accorded to a third request,
Since aggravated errors on the part

| Of your lord render them still more austere. Marina. Austere? Atrocious! The old human fiends,

With one foot in the grave, with dim eyes, strange

To tears save drops of dotage, with long white

And scanty hairs, and shaking hands, and

Lored. You know well That they have power to act at their discretion,

With or without the presence of the Doge. Doge. Tis some years since I learn'd this, long before

I became Doge, or dream'd of such advance

ment.

You need not school me, signor: I sate in That council when you were a young patrician.

Lored. True, in my father's time; I have heard him and

The admiral, his brother, say as much. Your Highness may remember them: they both

Died suddenly.

Doge. And if they did so, better So die than live on lingeringly in pain. Lored. No doubt! yet most men like to live their days out. Doge. And did not they?

Lored. The grave knows best: they died, As I said, suddenly.

Doge. Is that so strange
That you repeat the word emphatically?
Lored. So far from strange, that never
was there death

In my mind half so natural as theirs.
Think you not so?

Doge. What should I think of mortals?
Lored. That they have mortal foes.
Doge.. I understand you;

Your sires were mine, and you are heir in all things.

Lored. You best know if I should be so.
Doge. I do.

Your fathers were my foes, and I have heard
Foul rumours were abroad; I have also read
Their epitaph, attributing their deaths
To poison. 'Tis perhaps as true as most
Inscriptions upon tombs, and yet no less
A fable.

Lored. Who dares say so?
Doge. I!-Tis true

Your fathers were mine enemies, as bitter
As their son e'er can be, and I no less
Was theirs; but I was openly their foe:
I never work'd by plot in council, nor
Cabal in commonwealth, nor secret means
Of practice against life by steel or drug.
The proof is, your existence.

Lored. I fear not.

Doge. You have no cause, being what
I am; but were I

That you would have me thought, you long ere now

Were past the sense of fear. Hate on; I

care not.

Lored. I never yet knew that a noble's life In Venice had to dread a Doge's frown, That is, by open means.

Doge. But I, good signor,

Am, or at least was, more than a mere

duke,

In blood, in mind, in means; and that they know

Who dreaded to elect me, and have since Striven all they dare to weigh me down; be sure,

Before or since that period, had I held you At so much price as to require your absence, A word of mine had set such spirits to work As would have made you nothing. But in all things

I have observed the strictest reverence; Not for the laws alone, for those you have strain'd

(1 do not speak of you but as a single
Voice of the many) somewhat beyond what
I could enforce for my authority
Were I disposed to brawl; but, as I said,
I have observed with veneration, like
A priest's for the high altar, even unto
The sacrifice of my own blood and quiet,
Safety, and all save honour, the decrees,
The health, the pride, and welfare of the
state.

And now, sir, to your business.

Lored. 'Tis decreed,

That, without farther repetition of
The question, or continuance of the trial,
Which only tends to show how stubborn
guilt is-

The Ten, dispensing with the stricter law
Which still prescribes the question till a full
Confession, and the prisoner partly having
Avow'd his crime in not denying that
The letter to the Duke of Milan 's his-
James Foscari return to banishment,
And sail in the same galley which convey'd

him.

Not he alone, but all who dwell here, could Desire, were to escape from such a land.

Doge. That is not a Venetian thought, my daughter.

Marina. No, 'twas too human. May I share his exile?

Lored. Of this the Ten said nothing.

Marina. So I thought:

That were too human, also. But it was not Inhibited?

Lored. It was not named.

Marina (to the Doge). Then, father, Surely you can obtain or grant me thus much: [To Loredano. And you, sir, not oppose my prayer to be Permitted to accompany my husband. Doge. I will endeavour. Marina. And you, signor? Lored. Lady!

'Tis not for me to anticipate the pleasure Of the tribunal.

Marina. Pleasure! what a word To use for the decrees of—