Doge. From me fear nothing; out with it!

[secret

Is. Ber. Know then, that there are met and sworn in A band of brethren, valiant hearts and true; Men who have proved all fortunes, and have long Grieved over that of Venice, and have right To do so; having served her in all climes, And having rescued her from foreign foes, Would do the same from those within her walls. They are not numerous, nor yet too few

For their great purpose; they have arms, and means, And hearts, and hopes, and faith, and patient courage. Doge. For what then do they pause?

18. Ber.

An hour to strike. Doge. (Aside.) Saint Mark's shall strike that hour! I now have placed

Is. Ber.

My life, my honour, all my earthly hopes
Within thy power, but in the firm belief
That injuries like ours, sprung from one cause,
Will generate one vengeance: should it be so,
Be our chief now-our sovereign hereafter.

Doge. How many are ye?

Is. Ber.

Till I am answer'd.

Doge.

I'll not answer that

How, Sir! do you menace?
Is. Ber. No; I affirm. I have betray'd myself;
But there's no torture in the mystic wells
Which undermine your palace, nor in those
Not less appalling cells, "the leaden roofs,"
To force a single name from me of others.
The Pozzi and the Piombi were in vain;

They might wring blood from me, but treachery never.
And I would pass the fearful" Bridge of Sighs,"

Joyous that mine must be the last that e'er

Would echo o'er the stygian wave which flows

VOL. III.-E

Between the murderers and the murder'd, washing

The prison and the palace walls: there are

Those who would live to think on't, and avenge me. Doge. If such your power and purpose, why come here To sue for justice, being in the course

To do yourself due right?

Is. Ber.

Because the man,

Who claims protection from authority,
Showing his confidence and his submission

To that authority, can hardly be

Suspected of combining to destroy it.

Had I sate down too humbly with this blow,

A moody brow and mutter'd threats had made me
A mark'd man to the Forty's inquisition;

But loud complaint, however angrily
It shapes its phrase, is little to be fear'd,
And less distrusted. But, besides all this,
I had another reason.

Is. Ber. Some rumours that the Doge was greatly mov

By the reference of the Avogadori

Of Michel Steno's sentence to the Forty

Had reach'd me. I had serv'd you, honour'd you,

And felt that you were dangerously insulted,

Being of an order of such spirits, as
Requite tenfold both good and evil: 'twas
My wish to prove and urge you to redress.
Now you know all; and that I speak the truth,
My peril be the proof.

Doge.

You have deeply ventured;

But all must do so who would greatly win:
Thus far I'll answer you-your secret's safe.
Is. Ber. And is this all?
Doge.

[ed

Unless with all entrusted,

What would you have me answer?

Is. Ber.

I would have you

Trust him who leaves his life in trust with you.

Doge. But I must know your plan, your names, and numbers;

The last may then be doubled, and the former

Matured and strengthened.

Is. Ber.

We're enough already;

chiefs.

You are the sole ally we covet now.

Doge. But bring me to the knowledge of your Is. Ber. That shall be done upon your formal pledge To keep the faith that we will pledge to you.

Doge. When? Where?

What if I were to trust myself amongst you,

Doge. Wretch! darest thou name my son? He died in

At Sapienza for this faithless state.

Oh! that he were alive, and I in ashes!

Or that he were alive ere I be ashes!

I should not need the dubious aid of strangers.

[arms

Is. Ber. Not one of all those strangers whom thou But will regard thee with a filial feeling,

So that thou keep'st a father's faith with them.

[doubtest,

Doge. The die is cast. Where is the place of meeting? Is. Ber. At midnight I will be alone and mask'd Where'er your highness pleases to direct me, To wait your coming, and conduct you where You shall receive our homage, and pronounce Upon our project.

Doge.

The moon?

At what hour arises

Is. Ber. Late, but the atmosphere is thick and dusky; 'Tis a sirocco.

Doge.

At the midnight hour, then,

Near to the church where sleep my sires; the same,
Twin-named from the apostles John and Paul;
A gondola,* with one oar only, will

Lurk in the narrow channel which glides by.
Be there.

ls. Ber. I will not fail.

Doge.

And now retire

Is. Ber. In the full hope your highness will not faulter In your great purpose. Prince, I take my leave.

[Exit Israel Bertuccio.

Doge. (Solus.) At midnight, by the church Saints John

and Paul,

Where sleep my noble fathers, I repair—

To what? to hold a council in the dark

With common ruffians leagued to ruin states!
And will not my great sires leap from the vault,
Where lie two Doges who preceded me,

And pluck me down amongst them? Would they could!
For I should rest in honour with the honour'd.

Alas! I must not think of them, but those
Who have made me thus unworthy of a name,
Noble and brave as aught of consular
On Roman marbles; but I will redeem it
Back to its antique lustre in our annals,

By sweet revenge on all that's base in Venice,
And freedom to the rest, or leave it black

To all the growing calumnies of time,

*A gondola is not like a common boat, but is as easily rowed with one oar as with two (though of course not so swiftly,) and often is so from motives of privacy; and (since the decay of Venice) of economy.

Which never spare the fame of him who fails,
But try the Cæsar, or the Cataline,
By the true touchstone of desert-success.

ACT II.-SCENE 1.

An Apartment in the Ducal Palace.

That he was

Angiolina (wife of the Doge,) and Marianna. An. What was the Doge's answer? Ma. That moment summon'd to a conference; But 'tis by this time ended. I perceived Not long ago the senators embarking; And the last gondola may now be seen Gliding into the throng of barks which stud The glittering waters.

An.

Would he were return'd!

He has been much disquieted of late;

And Time, which has not tamed his fiery spirit,
Nor yet enfeebled even his mortal frame,
Which seems to be more nourish'd by a soul
So quick and restless that it would consume
Less hardy clay-Time has but little power
On his resentments or his griefs. Unlike
To other spirits of his order, who,

In the first burst of passion, pour away
Their wrath or sorrow, all things wear in him
An aspect of eternity: his thoughts,

His feelings, passions, good or evil, all

Have nothing of old age; and his bold brow

Bears but the scars of mind, the thoughts of years,

Not their decrepitude: and he of late