_Offi._ As you please, Signor; The sentence was not of my signing, but I dared not disobey the Council when They----
_Jac. Fos._ Bade thee stretch me on their horrid engine.
I pray thee touch me not--that is, just now; The time will come they will renew that order, But keep off from me till 'tis issued. As I look upon thy hands my curdling limbs Quiver with the anticipated wrenching, 160 And the cold drops strain through my brow, as if---- But onward--I have borne it--I can bear it.-- How looks my father?
_Offi._ With his wonted aspect.
_Jac. Fos._ So does the earth, and sky, the blue of Ocean, The brightness of our city, and her domes, The mirth of her Piazza--even now Its merry hum of nations pierces here, Even here, into these chambers of the unknown Who govern, and the unknown and the unnumbered Judged and destroyed in silence,--all things wear 170 The self-same aspect, to my very sire!
Nothing can sympathise with Foscari, Not even a Foscari.--Sir, I attend you.
[_Exeunt_ JACOPO FOSCARI, _Officer, etc._
_Enter_ MEMMO _and another Senator_.
_Mem._ He's gone--we are too late:--think you "the Ten"
Will sit for any length of time to-day?
_Sen._ They say the prisoner is most obdurate, Persisting in his first avowal; but More I know not.
_Mem._ And that is much; the secrets Of yon terrific chamber are as hidden From us, the premier nobles of the state, 180 As from the people.
_Sen._ Save the wonted rumours, Which--like the tales of spectres, that are rife Near ruined buildings--never have been proved, Nor wholly disbelieved: men know as little Of the state's real acts as of the grave's Unfathomed mysteries.
_Mem._ But with length of time We gain a step in knowledge, and I look Forward to be one day of the decemvirs.
_Sen._ Or Doge?
_Mem._ Why, no; not if I can avoid it.
_Sen._ 'Tis the first station of the state, and may 190 Be lawfully desired, and lawfully Attained by noble aspirants.
_Mem._ To such I leave it; though born noble, my ambition Is limited: I'd rather be an unit Of an united and Imperial "Ten,"
Than shine a lonely, though a gilded cipher.-- Whom have we here? the wife of Foscari?
_Enter_ MARINA, _with a female Attendant_.
_Mar._ What, no one?--I am wrong, there still are two; But they are senators.
_Mem._ Most noble lady, Command us.
_Mar._ _I command_!--Alas! my life 200 Has been one long entreaty, and a vain one.
_Mem._ I understand thee, but I must not answer.
_Mar._ (_fiercely_). True--none dare answer here save on the rack, Or question save those----
_Mem._ (_interrupting her_). High-born dame![44] bethink thee Where thou now art.
_Mar._ Where I now am!--It was My husband's father's palace.
_Mem._ The Duke's palace.
_Mar._ And his son's prison!--True, I have not forgot it; And, if there were no other nearer, bitterer Remembrances, would thank the illustrious Memmo For pointing out the pleasures of the place. 210
_Mem._ Be calm!
_Mar._ (_looking up towards heaven_). I am; but oh, thou eternal God!
Canst _thou_ continue so, with such a world?
_Mem._ Thy husband yet may be absolved.
_Mar._ He is, In Heaven. I pray you, Signer Senator, Speak not of that; you are a man of office, So is the Doge; he has a son at stake Now, at this moment, and I have a husband, Or had; they are there within, or were at least An hour since, face to face, as judge and culprit: Will _he_ condemn _him_?
_Mem._ I trust not.
_Mar._ But if 220 He does not, there are those will sentence both.
_Mem._ They can.
_Mar._ And with them power and will are one In wickedness;--my husband's lost!
_Mem._ Not so; Justice is judge in Venice.
_Mar._ If it were so, There now would be no Venice. But let it Live on, so the good die not, till the hour Of Nature's summons; but "the Ten's" is quicker, And we must wait on't. Ah! a voice of wail!
[_A faint cry within_.
_Sen._ Hark!
_Mem._ 'Twas a cry of--
_Mar._ No, no; not my husband's-- Not Foscari's.
_Mem._ The voice was--
_Mar._ _Not his_: no. 230 He shriek! No; that should be his father's part, Not his--not his--he'll die in silence.
[_A faint groan again within_.
_Mem._ What!
Again?
_Mar._ _His_ voice! it seemed so: I will not Believe it. Should he shrink, I cannot cease To love; but--no--no--no--it must have been A fearful pang, which wrung a groan from him.
_Sen._ And, feeling for thy husband's wrongs, wouldst thou Have him bear more than mortal pain in silence?
_Mar._ We all must bear our tortures. I have not Left barren the great house of Foscari, 240 Though they sweep both the Doge and son from life; I have endured as much in giving life To those who will succeed them, as they can In leaving it: but mine were joyful pangs: And yet they wrung me till I _could_ have shrieked, But did not; for my hope was to bring forth Heroes, and would not welcome them with tears.
_Mem._ All's silent now.
_Mar._ Perhaps all's over; but I will not deem it: he hath nerved himself, And now defies them.