Wouldst kill him o'er again?-He bleeds to death!
Father, it is thy blood.

Doge.

Who hath done this?

My son! My son!

Cam.
He is not dead. Support him.
See how his eye-lids quiver. Foscari!
'Tis I, thy wife!

Fos.

Mine own!

Cos.

Enter Zeno and Guards.

And cold contempt, and bitter pardon-dared
To hurl on me fierce pardon! Ha! he shivers!
His stout limbs writhe! The insect that is born
And dies within an hour would not change lives
With Foscari. I am content. For thee
I have a tenfold curse. Long be thy reign,
Great Doge of Venice!
Doge.

Thanks, gracious heaven! Lead him to instant death.

Cos.

Ay, I am the Doge;

[Exit Erizzo guarded.

My son!

"T is I

I pardon thee. He pardons thee. Live, Cosmo;
It is thy Prince's last behest. I've been
O'erlong a crowned slave. Go! dross to dross.

[Flinging off the Ducal bonnet. And bruise the stones of Venice! Tell the senate There lies their diadem. Now I am free!

Now I may grieve and pity like a man!
May weep, and groan, and die! My heart may burst
Now! Start not, Zeno-Didst thou never hear

Of a broken heart? Look there.

Is she not weeping? What! canst thou weep now,
When honour is redeemed and a bright name?
Why there should be no tear in all the world;
Gladness is come from Heaven.

There's no need.

Is life. Who talked of death? I cannot die
In such a happiness. I'm well.

He sinks;

Zeno. All. Seize Erizzo, bind him.

Eriz.
The work is done, well done-Signor Donato,
I thank thee still for that-and such revenge

Is cheaply bought with life.

Eriz. Ay! Do ye know me? Not a man of ye
But is my tool or victim. I'm your master.
This was my aim when old Donato died,
And but that Celso dared not cope with Foscari,
And sought to catch him in a subtler springe,
I had been now your Doge. And I am more.
I am your master, Sirs. Look where he lies
The towering Foscari, who yesterday
Stood statelier than the marble gods of Rome
In their proud beauty. Hearken! It is mute,
The tongue which darted words of fiery scorn,

Zeno.
Support him.

Not even in slumber can he lose the sense
Of that deep misery; and I-he wakes!
Dost thou not see the quivering mantle heave
With sudden motion?

Ann.

Thou hast wakened him.

Was that young boy to Julian. "T was a friendship
Fonder than common, blended with a kind
Protecting tenderness, such as a brother

Thy clamorous grief hath roused him. Hence! Be- Might fitly show unto the younger born.

gone!

Leave me!

Alf. And yet his eyes are closed. He sleeps. He did not move his hand.

Ann.

How changed he is!
How pale! How wasted! Can one little week
Of pain and sickness so have faded thee,
My princely Julian! But eight days ago
There lived not in this gladsome Sicily
So glad a spirit. Voice and step and eye
All were one happiness; till that dread hour,

When drest in sparkling smiles, radiant and glowing
With tender thoughts, he flew to meet the King
And his great father. He went forth alone;
Frenzy and grief came back with him.
Alf.
Another grief.

And I,

Ann.
Thou wast a comforter.
All stranger as thou art, hast thou not shared
My watch as carefully, as faithfully
As I had been thy sister! Ay, and he,
If ever in this wild mysterious woe

One sight or sound hath cheered him, it hath been
A glance, a word of thine.
Alf.

Ann. He knows not me.
Alf.

He knows me not.

I never heard before

That 't was to meet the King yon fatal night-
Knowingly, purposely-How could he guess
That they should meet? What moved him to that
thought?

Alf. Oh, he hath proved it!
Ann.

Thou dost know them both?

Alf.

To be crowned. They came not.
But wherefore went Prince Julian forth to meet them?
Ann. Father nor cousin came; nor messenger,
From Regent or from King; and Julian chafed
And fretted at delay. At length a peasant,
No liveried groom; a slow foot-pacing serf,
Brought tidings that the royal two that morn
Left Villa d'Oro. Glowing from the chase
Prince Julian stood; his bridle in his hand,
New lighted, soothing now his prancing steed,
And prattling now to me ;-for I was still
So foolish fond to fly into the porch

To meet him, when I heard the quick sharp tread
Of that bright Arab, whose proud step I knew
Even as his master's voice. He heard the tale
And instant sprang again into his seat,
Wheeled round, and darted off at such a pace
As the fleet greyhound, at her speed, could scarce
Have matched. He spake no word; but as he passed,
Just glanced back at me with his dancing eyes,
And such a smile of joy, and such a wave
Of his plumed bonnet! His return thou know'st.
Alf. I was its wretched partner.
Ann.
He on foot,
Thou on the o'er-travelled horse, slow, yet all stain'd

Ann. Stranger although thou be, thou can'st but With sweat, and panting as if fresh escaped
know

Prince Julian's father is the Regent here,

And rules for his young kinsman, King Alfonso!

From hot pursuit; and how he called for wine
For his poor Theodore, his faithful page;

Then sate him down and shook with the cold fit

Jul. Ay, dearest. Have I then been ill? I'm weak. Speak to me, dearest Julian.

Alf.

Alas! alas!
Why did he rescue me! I'm a poor orphan;
None would have wept for me; I had no friend
In all the world save one. I had been reared

In simpleness; a quiet grave had been
A fitter home for me than the rude world;
A mossy heap, no stone, no epitaph,

Save the brief words of grief and praise (for Grief
Is still a Praiser) he perchance had spoke
When they first told him the poor boy was dead.
Shame on me that I shunned the sword!
Jul.
By Heaven,
It could not be a crime to save thee! kneel
Before him, Annabel. He is the King.

I am calm now.

Thou knowest how buoyantly

I darted from thee, straight o'er vale and hill,
Counting the miles by minutes. At the pass
Between the Albano mountains, I first breathed
A moment my hot steed, expecting still
To see the royal escort. Afar off

As I stood, shading with my hand my eyes,
I thought I saw them; when at once I heard
From the deep glen, east of the pass, loud cries
Of mortal terror. Even in agony

I knew the voice, and darting through the trees
I saw Alfonso, prostrate on the ground,
Clinging around the knees of one, who held
A dagger over him in act to strike,

Yet with averted head, as if he feared
To see his innocent victim. His own face
Was hidden; till at one spring I plunged my sword
Into his side; then our eyes met, and he

That was the mortal blow!-screamed and stretched
out

His hands. Falling and dying as he was,

He half rose up, hung speechless in the air,
And looked-Oh what had been the bitterest curse
To such a look! It smote me like a sword!
Here, here. He died.

Ann.
Jul.

And thou?

I could have lain
In that dark glen for ever; but there stood
The dear-bought, and the dear, kinsman and prince
And friend. We heard the far-off clang of steeds
And armed men, and, fearing some new foe,
Came homeward.

Ann. Alfonso ?
Alf.
Ay, so please you, fairest Cousin,
But still your servant. Do not hate me, Lady,
Though I have caused this misery. We have shared
One care, one fear, one hope, have watched and wept Remain upon the ground?

Ann.

And did he, then, the unhappy,

Alas! he did.

Jul.
Ann. Oh, it was but a swoon! Listen, dear Julian,
I tell thee I have comfort.
Jul.

There is none

Didst thou-I would not wantonly recall
That scene of anguish-Didst thou search his wound?

Jul. Annabel, in my eyes that scene will dwell
For ever, shutting out all lovely sights,

Even thee, my Beautiful! That torturing thought
Will burn a living fire within my breast
Perpetually; words can nothing add,

And nothing take away. Fear not my frenzy!

Alf.
Of hope.

Go seek her! Fly!
If he's alive-Why art thou not returned,
When that one little word will save two souls!
[Exit Annabel.