_Lor._ 'Twas so When I came here. The galley floats within A bow-shot of the "Riva di Schiavoni." 400
_Jac. Fos._ Father! I pray you to precede me, and Prepare my children to behold their father.
_Doge_. Be firm, my son!
_Jac. Fos._ I will do my endeavour.
_Mar._ Farewell! at least to this detested dungeon, And him to whose good offices you owe In part your past imprisonment.
_Lor._ And present Liberation.
_Doge_. He speaks truth.
_Jac. Fos._ No doubt! but 'tis Exchange of chains for heavier chains I owe him.
He knows this, or he had not sought to change them, But I reproach not.
_Lor._ The time narrows, Signor. 410
_Jac. Fos._ Alas! I little thought so lingeringly To leave abodes like this: but when I feel That every step I take, even from this cell, Is one away from Venice, I look back Even on these dull damp walls, and----
_Doge_. Boy! no tears.
_Mar._ Let them flow on: he wept not on the rack To shame him, and they cannot shame him now.
They will relieve his heart--that too kind heart-- And I will find an hour to wipe away Those tears, or add my own. I could weep now, 420 But would not gratify yon wretch so far.
Let us proceed. Doge, lead the way.
_Lor._ (_to the Familiar_). The torch, there!
_Mar._ Yes, light us on, as to a funeral pyre, With Loredano mourning like an heir.
_Doge_. My son, you are feeble; take this hand.
_Jac. Fos._ Alas!
Must youth support itself on age, and I Who ought to be the prop of yours?
_Lor._ Take mine.
_Mar._ Touch it not, Foscari; 'twill sting you. Signor, Stand off! be sure, that if a grasp of yours Would raise us from the gulf wherein we are plunged, 430 No hand of ours would stretch itself to meet it.
Come, Foscari, take the hand the altar gave you; It could not save, but will support you ever. [_Exeunt_.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.--_A Hall in the Ducal Palace_.
_Enter_ LOREDANO _and_ BARBARIGO.
_Bar._ And have you confidence in such a project?
_Lor._ I have.
_Bar._ 'Tis hard upon his years.
_Lor._ Say rather Kind to relieve him from the cares of State.
_Bar._ 'Twill break his heart.
_Lor._ Age has no heart to break.
He has seen his son's half broken, and, except A start of feeling in his dungeon, never Swerved.
_Bar._ In his countenance, I grant you, never; But I have seen him sometimes in a calm So desolate, that the most clamorous grief Had nought to envy him within. Where is he? 10
_Lor._ In his own portion of the palace, with His son, and the whole race of Foscaris.
_Bar._ Bidding farewell.
_Lor._ A last! as, soon, he shall Bid to his Dukedom.
_Bar._ When embarks the son?
_Lor._ Forthwith--when this long leave is taken. 'Tis Time to admonish them again.
_Bar._ Forbear; Retrench not from their moments.
_Lor._ Not I, now We have higher business for our own. This day Shall be the last of the old Doge's reign, As the first of his son's last banishment, 20 And that is vengeance.
_Bar._ In my mind, too deep.
_Lor._ 'Tis moderate--not even life for life, the rule Denounced of retribution from all time; They owe me still my father's and my uncle's.
_Bar._ Did not the Doge deny this strongly?
_Lor._ Doubtless.
_Bar._ And did not this shake your suspicion?
_Lor._ No.
_Bar._ But if this deposition should take place By our united influence in the Council, It must be done with all the deference Due to his years, his station, and his deeds. 30
_Lor._ As much of ceremony as you will, So that the thing be done. You may, for aught I care, depute the Council on their knees, (Like Barbarossa to the Pope,) to beg him To have the courtesy to abdicate.
_Bar._ What if he will not?
_Lor._ We'll elect another, And make him null.