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Enter Camilla.

Cos. And veil'd! Whence com'st thou, sister?

speak!

Why hast thou borne those tears and that wan face Abroad amongst the happy? Whence com'st thou? Cam. From one whose heart drops blood for this great grief.

Cos. Whence?

Cam.

Cos.

From St. Mark's.

The Doge! The poor old Doge!

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We have no father now,

And we should love each other. Stay with me.
I am no tyrant-brother: I'll not force
Thy blooming beauty to some old man's bed
For high alliance; I'll not plunge thy youth
Into that living tomb where the cold nun

Eriz. The Doge! It was not by the Ducal cham-Chants daily requiems, that thy dower may swell

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My coffers; I but ask of thee to stay

With me in thy dear Venice, thy dear home,
Thy mistress, mine. I'll be to thee, Camilla,
A father, brother, lover. Stay with me!
I will be very kind to thee.

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Ha!

Cos.

She raves.

Cam.

Cos.

Stay with me.

Look how she trembles; she is overwatched;

This is a frenzy.

Cam.

Sir, I am not mad;

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No.

Then go,

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Eriz.

You must seek her

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Already! Write to me Often. Is that forbidden? Yet the Doge

With him. The time draws near. [Cosmo rushes out. May ask my Candiote jailer if his prisoner

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Now, Foscari,

[Erit.

Doge, Foscari, Guards.

Fos. Here then we part. Those Guards-send

them away,

Let them not listen to the last faint word,

Be strictly kept. Then I shall sometimes see,
For surely he will show it me, thy name,
Thy writing, something thou hast touched. "Twill be
A comfort.

Doge. I will write to thee.
Fos.

And think

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Nor gaze on the last lingering look. Why doubt'st In the night's darkness, but one single thought

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But I must pray the Doge to come with me
Straight to the Senate. "T is an earnest business.
I do beseech your Highness. Leave him, Foscari!
Cling not together as your very souls

Were interlaced. The Senate, Doge, demands thee.
Fos. The Senate! What! hath he another son

To try, to torture, to condemn? Hath he
Another heart to break? Yet go. For once
Their cruelty is mercy. Go.

Doge.
Whilst still
These eyes may gaze on thee! Ere yonder cloud
Shall pass across the sun, a darker cloud

Will wrap me in its blackness; then the throne,
The judgment seat, the grave—no matter where
The old man rests his bones!-One dim eclipse
Will shadow all-but now-say to the senate
That at their bidding I am sending forth
My son to exile.

Oh I shall not be by

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To close thine eyes or kneel beside thy couch, Or gather from thy lips the last fond sound

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Which was to me a god, have I not offered
My child upon the altar? Is the sacrifice
Still incomplete? Farewell! farewell!

Zeno.

Francesco,

Embark not till ye hear from me.-My lord,

This way.

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He knows well. Francesco,

The whole world shall not part us. Fos. Mine! Mine own! My very own! I've lost wealth, country, home, Fame, friends, and father; I have nothing left Save thee, my dear one; but with thee I'm rich, [Exeunt Doge and Zeno. And great, and happy. Now let us go forth Cam. Nay, sit not shivering there Into our banishment. Give me thy hand, Upon the ground. Hast thou no word for me. My wife. Francesco ?

Doge. I pray you pardon me-I'm old— I'm very old.

Is he gone? I did not say

Fos. Is he gone? Quite gone? For ever?
Cam. Take comfort.
Fos.
Farewell, nor God be with thee! When men part
From common friends for a slight summer voyage,
They cry Heaven speed thee! and I could not say
Farewell to my dear father, nor call down
One benison on that white reverend head
Which I shall never see again. There breathes not
A wretch so curst as I.

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Fortune, and friends, and home, to fly from them
Were nothing-but she leaves the unburied corse
Of her dead father, the dear privilege

To sit and watch till the last hour, to strew
His body with sweet flowers like a bank in spring,
Making death beautiful, to follow him
To his cold bed, and drop slow heavy tears
To the bell's knolling. She leaves grief to go
With me, whom the world calls-Oh matchless love,
Life could not pay thee! Matchless, matchless love!
Cam. He, that blest spirit, knows thy innocence :
And I-I never doubted.

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Cos. Camilla, I command thee stay-
The laws of Venice give to me a power
Absolute as a father's. Loose her, Sir.

Let go her hand. I warn ye part. They'll drive me
Into a madness. If thou be a man
Let's end this quarrel bravely.

Cam.

Heed him not!

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Hold them asunder, Count, and in my prayers
Thou shalt be sainted! Help. [Camilla rushes out.
Fos.
Give me a sword!
Cos. Ay his or mine. I am so strongly armed
In my most righteous cause, I would encounter
A mailed warrior with a willow wand.
Eriz. There is my weapon.
Fos.

Why thou wast my foe!
But this is such a bounty as might shame
The princely hand of friendship. Not the blade
Girt by a crowned Duke around my loins,
An Emperor's gift, the day I won my spurs
In the Suabian victory, not that knightly sword
Was welcomer than this.
Cos.

Foscari, come on!
Fos. I would thou wert a soldier!

Now.
[They fight, and Foscari falls.
The fates

Cos.

Eriz.

Work for me.-Ha!

Cos.

Erizzo.

Eriz.

Is he dead?

Cos. Alas! alas! Lift up his head.

Cam. (behind the scene.)

Here! Here!

Move not a step. Dare not to stir. Camilla,
Follow me.

Fos.

Who is he that dares obstruct
The mandate of the Senate? I'm an exile
Travelling to banishment. All Venice knows
The piteous story of the Doge's son
Condemned by his own father, and of her

His true and faithful love. Now leave us, Sir;
Let us depart in peace.

Cos.
I seek my sister.

Murderer! Ravisher!

Canst thou not hasten?

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Cos.

heard

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. [Exit Erizzo guarded.

Mine own!

Enter Zeno and Guards.

Cos.

Ay, I am the Doge;

My son!

"T is I

Zeno. Seize Count Erizzo, Guard. Have ye not That am the only murderer of the earth-
I that slew him. Bring racks and axes-
Doge.

What spectacle is this?-Know ye not, Sirs, That Foscari is guiltless, that the murderer Is found?

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Live!
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.

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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.

Cos.

Oh, damned viper!

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,

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Beloved son,

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JULIAN, A TRAGEDY.

ΤΟ

WILLIAM CHARLES MACREDY, Esq.

WITH HIGH ESTEEM FOR THOSE

ENDOWMENTS WHICH HAVE CAST NEW LUSTRE ON

HIS ART;

WITH WARM ADMIRATION FOR THOSE POWERS

WHICH HAVE INSPIRED,

AND THAT TASTE WHICH HAS FOSTERED, THE TRAGIC

DRAMATISTS OF HIS AGE;

WITH HEARTFELT GRATITUDE FOR THE ZEAL

WITH WHICH HE BEFRIENDED THE

PRODUCTION OF A STRANGER, FOR THE JUDICIOUS ALTERATIONS WHICH HE SUGGESTED,

AND FOR

THE ENERGY, THE PATHOS, AND THE SKILL
WITH WHICH HE

MORE THAN EMBODIED ITS PRINCIPAL CHARACTER;

This Tragedy

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THEY Who in Prologues for your favours ask,
Find every season more perplex their task;
Though doubts and hopes and tremblings do not fail,
The points fall flatly and the rhymes grow stale;
Why should the Author hint their fitting parts,
In all the pomp of Verse, to "British hearts?"
Why to such minds as yours with ardour pray,
For more than justice to a first essay?
What need to show how absolute your power?
What stake awaits the issue of the hour-
How hangs the scale 'twixt agony and joy,
THE AUTHOR. What bliss you nourish, or what hopes destroy?—
All these you feel;-and yet we scarce can bring

IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED

BY

PREFACE.

THE Story and Characters of the following Tragedy are altogether fictitious. Annabel's cautions to silence in the first Scene, and the short dialogue between her and Julian, after he awakens, will be recognised by the classical reader as borrowed from the fine opening of the Orestes of Euripides; the incident of uncovering the body in the last Act is also taken from the Electra of Sophocles. Of any other intentional imitation, the Author is unconscious.

A Prologue to "the posey of a ring."

To what may we allude?—Our plot untold
Is no great chapter from the times of old;
On no august association rests,
But seeks its earliest home in kindly breasts,--
Its scene, as inauspicious to our strain,
Is neither mournful Greece, nor kindling Spain,
But Sicily-where no defiance hurled
At freedom's foes may awe the attending world.
But since old forms forbid us to submit
A Play without a Prologue to the Pit;
Lest this be missed by some true friend of plays,
Like the dull colleague of his earlier days;
Thus let me own how fearlessly we trust
That you will yet be mercifully just.

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