526 BYRON’S

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Hall in the Ducal Palace.

Enter LOREDANO and BARBARIGO , meeting.Lor. Where is the prisoner ?

Bar. Reposing from

The Question.

Lor. The hour’s past—fix’d yesterday

For the resumption of his trial.—Let usRejoin, our colleagues in the council, andUrge his recall.

Bar. Nay, let him profit by

A few brief minutes for his tortured limbs;

He was o’erwrought by the Question yesterday,And may die under it if now repeated.

Lor. Well ?

Bar. I yield not to you in love of justice,

Or liate of the ambitious Foscari,

Rather and son, and all their noxious race :

But the poor wretch has suffered beyond nature’sMost stoical endurance.

Lor. Without owning

His crime ?

Bar. Perhaps without committing any.

But ho avow'd the letter to the DubeOf Milan, and his sufferings half atone forSuch weakness.

Lor. We shall see.

Bar. You, Loredano,

Pursue hereditary hate too far.

Lor. How far?

Bar. To extermination.

Lor. When they are

Extinct, you may say this —Let’s in to council.Bar. Yet pause—the number of our colleaguesis not

Complete yet ; two are wanting ere we canProceed.

Lor. And the chief judge—the Doge ?

Bar. No—he,

With more than Roman fortitude, is everFirst at the board in this unhappy processAgainst liis last and only son.

Lor. True—true—

His last.

Bar. Will nothing move you ?

Lor. Feels he, think you ?

Bar. He shows it not.

Lor. I have mark’d that —the wretch !

Bar. But yesterday, I hear, on his returnTo the ducal chambers, as he pass’d the thresh-old

The old man fainted.

Lor. • It begins to work, then.

Bar. The work is half your own.

Lor. And should be all mine—

My father and my uncle are no more.

Bar. I have read their epitaph, which saysthey diedBy poison.

Lor. When the Doge declared that heShould never deem liimself a sovereign tillThe death of Peter Loredano, bothThe brothers sicken’d shortly—he is sovereign.Bar. A wretched one.

Lor. What should they be who make

Orphans?

Bar. But did the Doge make you so ?

Lor* Yes.

WORKS.

Bar. What solid proofs ?

Lor. When princes set themselves

To work in secret, proofs and process areAlike made difficult; but I have suchOf the first, as shall make the second needless.

Bar. But you will move by law ?

Lor. By all the laws

Which he would leave us.

Bar. They are such in this

Our state as render retribution easierThan ’mongst remoter nations. Is it trueThat you have written in your books of commerce(The wealthy practice of our highest noblesj,

“ Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deathsOf Marco and Pietro Loredano ,

My sire and uncle ?”

Lor. It is written thus.

Bar. And will you leave it unerased ?

Lor. Till balanced.

Bar. And how ?

[Tiro Senators pass over the stage , as intheir way to “ the Hall of the Councilof Ten.”

Lor . You see the number is complete.

Follow me.

* [E.rit Loredano.

Bar (solus). Follow thee! I have follow’d longThy path of desolation, as the waveSweeps after that before, alike whelmingTiie wreck that creaks to the wild winds, andwretch

Who shrieks within its riven ribs, as gushThe waters through them; but this son andsire

Might move the elements to pause, and yet *

Must I on hardily like them—Oh! would f

I could as blindly and remorselessly I— i

Lo, where he comes !—Be still, my heart! theyare

Thy foes, must be thy victims : wilt thou beatFor those who almost broke thee ?

Enter GUARDS, with young FOSCARI as prisoner,

<frc.

Guard. Let him rest.

Signor, take time.

Jac. Fos. I thank thee, friend, I’m feeble ;But thou may’st stand reproved.

Guard. I’ll stand the hazard.

Jac. Fos. That’s kindI meet some pity, butno mercy;

This is the first.

Guard. And might be the last, did they

Who rule behold us.

Bar. (advancing to the Guard). There is one whodoes:

Yet fear not; I will neither he thy judgeNor thy accuser ; though the hour is past,

Wait their last summons—I am of “ the Ten,”

And waiting for that summons, sanction youEven by my presence: when the last cal!sounds,

We’ll in together.—Look well to the prisoner !

Jac. Fos. What voice is that?—’Tis Bar-barigo’s! Ah!

Our house’s foe, and one of my few judges.

Bar. To balance such a foe, if such there be,

Thy father sits amongst thy judges.

Jac. Fos. True,

He judges.

Bar. Then deem not the law’s too harshWhich yield so much indulgence to a sire,