LOREDANO.

When the Doge declared that he

Should never deem himself a sovereign till
The death of Peter Loredano, both

The brothers sicken'd shortly:—he is sovereign.

When princes set themselves

To work in secret, proofs and process are

Alike made difficult; but I have such

Of the first, as shall make the second needless.

Our state as render retribution easier

Than 'mongst remoter nations. Is it true

That you have written in your books of commerce, (The wealthy practice of our highest nobles)

Doge Foscari, my debtor for the deaths Of Marco and Pietro Loredano,

(Two Senators pass over the stage, as in their way to the «Hall of the

Council of Ten.»>

LOREDANO.

You see the number is complete.

Follow me.

(Exit LOREDANO.

BARBARIGO (Solus.)

Follow thee! I have follow'd long

Thy path of desolation, as the wave

Sweeps after that before it, alike whelming

The wreck that creaks to the wild winds, and wretch

Who shrieks within its riven ribs, as gush

The waters through them; but this son and sire
Might move the elements to pause, and yet
Must I on hardily like them-Oh! would
I could as blindly and remorselessly!—

Lo, where he comes!-Be still, my heart! they are
Thy foes, must be thy victims: wilt thou beat
For those who almost broke thee?

Enter Guards, with young FOSCARI as prisoner, etc.

That's kind:-I meet some pity, but no mercy;

This is the first.

GUARD.

And might be last, did they

Who rule behold us.

BARBARIGO (Advancing to the Guard.)

There is one who does:

Yet fear not; I will neither be thy judge
Nor thy accuser; though the hour is past,
Wait their last summons-I am of the «Ten,>
And waiting for that summons sanction you
Even by my presence: when the last call sounds
We'll in together.-Look well to the prisoner!

JACOPO FOSCARI.

What voice is that?'t is Barbarigo's! ah!
Our house's foe, and one of my few judges.

BARBARIGO.

To balance such a foe, if such there be,

Thy father sits amongst thy judges.

He judges.

JACOPO FOSCARI.

True,

BARBARIGO.

Then deem not the laws too harsh

Which yield so much indulgence to a sire
As to allow his voice in such high matter
As the state's safety————

Let me approach, I pray you, for a breath
Of air, yon window which o'erlooks the waters.

Enter an Officer, who whispers BARBARIGO.

BARBARIGO (To the Guard.)

Let him approach.

I must not speak with him Further than thus; I have transgress'd my duty In this brief parley, and must now redeem it

Within the Council Chamber.

(Exit BARBARIGO.

(Guard conducting JACOPO FOSCARI to the window.

GUARD.

There, sir, 't is

Open-How feel you?

And your limbs?

Bounding o'er

yon

JACOPO FOSCARI.

Like a boy-O Venice!

GUARD.

JACOPO FOSCARI.

Limbs! how often have they borne me

blue tide, as I have skimm'd

The gondola along in childish race,

And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst

My gay competitors, noble as I,

Raced for our pleasure in the pride of strength,
While the fair populace of crowding beauties,
Plebeian as patrician, cheer'd us on

With dazzling smiles, and wishes audible,
And waving kerchiefs, and applauding hands,
Even to the goal!- How many a time have I
Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring,
The wave all roughen'd; with a swimmer's stroke
Flinging the billows back from my drench'd hair,
And laughing from my lip the audacious brine,
Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er
The waves as they arose, and prouder still
The loftier they uplifted me; and oft,
In wantonness of spirit, plunging down
Into their green and glassy gulfs, and making
My way to shells and sea-weed, all unseen
By those above, till they wax'd fearful; then
Returning with my grasp full of such tokens
As show'd that I had search'd the deep: exulting,
With a far-dashing stroke, and drawing deep
The long-suspended breath, again I spurn'd
The foam which broke around me, and pursued
My track like a sea-bird.—I was a boy then.

GUARD.

Be a man now: there never was more need
Of manhood's strength.

JACOPO FOSCARI (Looking from the lattice.)

My beautiful, my own, My only Venice-this is breath! Thy breeze,

Thine Adrian sea-breeze, how it fans my

face!

Thy very winds feel native to my veins,
And cool them into calmness! How unlike
The hot gales of the horrid Cyclades,
Which howl'd about my Candiote dungeon, and
Made my heart sick.