Vin. Calm, but not overcast, he stood resign'd
To the decree, whate'er it were ;—but lo!
It comes, for the perusal of his highness.

Enter the Secretary of the Forty.

Sec. The high tribunal of the Forty sends
Health and respect to the Doge Faliero,
Chief magistrate of Venice, and requests
His highness to peruse and to approve
The sentence past on Michel Steno, born
Patrician, and arraign'd upon the charge
Contain❜d, together with its penalty,
Within the rescript which I now present.

Doge. Retire, and wait without.—Take thou this pa

Why do you tremble thus?—nay, doubt not, all

Will be as could be wish'd.

Doge.

Ber. Fal. (Reading.)

Say on.

"Decreed

In council, without one dissenting voice,

That Michel Steno, by his own confession,
Guilty on the last night of carnival

Of having graven on the ducal throne

The following words

Doge.

Would'st thou repeat them?

Would'st thou repeat them-lhou, a Faliero,

Harp on the deep dishonour of our house,

Dishonour'd in its chief-that chief the prince

Of Venice, first of cities?-To the sentence.

Ber. Fal. Forgive me, my good lord; I will obey

In the mean time the Forty doth salute
The Prince of the republic, and entreat
His acceptation of their duty.

They are wond'rous dutiful, and ever humble.
Sentence is past, you say?

Vin.

It is, your highness:

The president was sealing it, when I

Was call'd in, that no moment might be lost
In forwarding the intimation due

Not only to the chief of the Republic

But the complainant, both in one united.

Ber. Fal. Are you aware, from aught you have perOf their decision?

Vin.

No, my lord; you know

The secret custom of the courts in Venice.

[ceived,

Ber. Fal. True; but there still is something given to

guess,

Which a shrewd gleaner and quick eye would catch at,
A whisper, or a murmur, or an air

More or less solemn spread o'er the tribunal.
The Forty are but men-most worthy men,
And wise, and just, and cautious-this I grant-
And secret as the grave to which they doom
The guilty; but with all this, in their aspects-
At least in some, the juniors of the number-
A searching eye, an eye like yours, Vincenzo,
Would read the sentence ere it was pronounced.

Vin. My lord, I came away upon the moment,
And had no leisure to take note of that
Which pass'd among the judges, even in seeming;
My station near the accused too, Michel Steno,
Made me

Doge, (abruptly.) And how look'd he? deliver that.

Oh, that the Genoese were in the port!

Oh, that the Huns whom I o'erthrew at Zara
Were ranged around the palace!

Ber. Fal.

In Venice' Duke to say so.

Doge.

'Tis not well

Venice' Duke!

Who now is Duke in Venice? let me see him,

That he may do me right.

Ber. Fal.

If you forget

Your office, and its dignity and duty,

Remember that of man, and curb this passion.
The duke of Venice-

Doge. (interrupting him.) There is no such thing-
It is a word-nay, worse, a worthless by-word:
The most despised, wrong'd, outrag'd, helpless wretch,
Who begs his bread, if 'tis refused by one,
May win it from another kinder heart;
But he, who is denied his right by those
Whose place it is to do no wrong, is poorer
Than the rejected beggar-he's a slave-
And that am I, and thou, and all our house,
Even from this hour; the meanest artisan
Will point the finger, and the haughty noble
May spit upon us: -where is our redress?
Ber. Fal. The law, my prince-

Doge. (interrupting him.) You see what it has done→ I ask'd no remedy but from the law

I sought no vengeance but redress by law

I call'd no judges but those named by the law-
As sovereign, I appeal'd unto my subjects,
The

very subjects who had made me sovereign, And gave me thus a double right to be so,

The rights of place and choice, of birth and service,
Honours and years, these scars, these hoary bairs.

The travel, toil, the perils, the fatigues,

The blood and sweat of almost eighty years,

Were weigh'd i' the balance, 'gainst the foulest stain,
The grossest insult, most contemptuous crime

Of a rank, rash patrician—and found wanting!
And this is to be borne?

Ber. Fal.

I say not that;-

In case your fresh appeal should be rejected,
We will find other means to make all even.

Doge. Appeal again! art thou my brother's son?
A scion of the house of Faliero?

The nephew of a Doge? and of that blood

Which bath already given three dukes to Venice?
But thou say'st well-we must be humble now.

Ber. Fal. My princely uncle! you are too much moved:
I grant it was a gross offence, and grossly
Left without fitting punishment; but still
This fury doth exceed the provocation,
Or any provocation: if we are wrong'd
We will ask justice; if it be denied,

We'll take it; but may do all this in calmness-
Deep Vengeance is the daughter of deep Silence.
I have yet scarce a third part of your years,
I love our house, I honour you, its chief,
The guardian of my youth, and its instructor
But though I understand your grief, and enter
In part of your disdain, it doth appal me
To see your anger, like our Adrian waves,
O'ersweep all bounds, and foam itself to air.

Doge. I tell thee-must I tell thee-what thy father
Would have required no words to comprehend?
Hast thou no feeling save the external sense

Of torture from the touch? hast thou no soul-
No pride-no passion-no deep sense of honour?

VOL. III. -D

Ber. Fal. "Tis the first time that honour has been

And were the last, from any other sceptic.

[doubted, Doge. You know the full offence of this born villain, This creeping, coward, rank, acquitted felon, Who threw his sting into a poisonous libel, And on the honour of-Oh God!—my wife, The nearest, dearest part of all men's honour, Left a base slur to pass from mouth to mouth Of loose mechanics, with all coarse foul comments, And villanous jests, and blasphemies obscene; While sneering nobles, in more polish'd guise, Whisper'd the tale, and smiled upon the lie Which made me look like them-a courteous wittol, Patient-ay, proud, it may be, of dishonour.

Ber. Fal. But still it was a lie-you knew it false, And so did all men.

Doge.

Nephew, the high Roman Said "Cæsar's wife must not even be suspected," And put her from him.

Ber. Fal.

True but in those days

Doge. What is it that a Roman would not suffer, That a Venetian prince must bear? Old Dandolo

Refused the diadem of all the Cæsars,

And wore the ducal cap I trample on,
Because 'tis now degraded. .

Ber. Fal.

'Tis even so.

Doge. It is-it is:-I did not visit on

The innocent creature thus most vilely slander'd
Because she took an old man for her lord,

For that he had been long her father's friend
And patron of her house, as if there were
No love in woman's heart but lust of youth
And beardless faces;-I did not for this
Visit the villain's infamy on her,