Spilt noble blood, I guarantee thy safety; But then thou must withdraw, for angry friends And relatives, in the first burst of vengeance, He who has shed patrician blood Bertram. I come To save patrician blood, and not to shed it! And is about to take, instead of sand, Go not thou forth to-morrow! Lioni. Wherefore not? What means this menace? Bertram. Do not seek its meaning, But do as I implore thee;-stir not forth, Whate'er be stirring; though the roar of crowds The cry of women, and the shrieks of babes The groans of men—the clash of arms - the sound Of rolling drum, shrill trump, and hollow bell, Peal in one wide alarum!-Go not forth Until the tocsin 's silent, nor even then Till I return! Lioni. Again, what does this mean? Bertram. Again, I tell thee, ask not; but by all Lioni. I am indeed already lost in wonder; Surely thou ravest! what have I to dread? Who are my foes? or if there be such, why Art thou leagued with them?-thou! or if so leagued, Why comest thou to tell me at this hour, And not before? Bertram. I cannot answer this. Wilt thou go forth despite of this true warning? Lioni. I was not born to shrink from idle threats, The cause of which I know not: at the hour Once more, art thou determined to go forth? Lioni. I am; nor is there aught which shall impede me! Bertram. Then Heaven have mercy on [Going. thy soul!-Farewell! Lioni. Stay-there is more in this than my own safety Which makes me call thee back; we must not part thus: Bertram, I have known thee long. Bertram. From childhood, signor, My father was your father's client, I We sprung, and you, devoted to the state, As suits your station, the more humble Bertram Was left unto the labours of the humble, Still you forsook me not; and if my fortunes Have not been towering, 'twas no fault of him Who oft-times rescued and supported me Thou holdest dear on earth or heaven-When struggling with the tides of circum by all Muffled to whisper curses to the night; Disbanded soldiers, discontented ruffians, And desperate libertines who brawl in taverns; Thou herdest not with such: 'tis true, of late I have lost sight of thee, but thou wert wont To lead a temperate life, and break thy bread With honest mates, and bear a cheerful aspect. What hath come to thee? in thy hollow eye And hueless cheek, and thine unquiet motions, Sorrow and shame and conscience seem at war To waste thee. Bertram. Rather shame and sorrow light On the accursed tyranny which rides The very air in Venice, and makes men Madden as in the last hours of the plague Which sweeps the soul deliriously from life! | Lioni. Some villains have been tampering with thee, Bertram; This is not thy old language, nor own thoughts; Some wretch has made thee drunk with disaffection; But thou must not be lost so; thou wert good And kind, and art not fit for such base acts As vice and villany would put thee to: Confess - confide in me-thou know'st my nature What is it thou and thine are bound to do, Which should prevent thy friend, the only son Of him who was a friend unto thy father, Like a sick girl? Bertram. Nay, question me no further: I must be gone.— Lioni. And I be murder'd!—say, Was it not thus thou saidst, my gentle Bertram? Bertram. Who talks of murder? what said I of murder?'Tis false! I did not utter such a word. Lioni. Thou didst not; but from out thy wolfish eye, So changed from what I knew it, there glares forth The gladiator. If my life's thine object, Bertram. Sooner than spill thy blood, Sooner than harm a hair of thine, I place In jeopardy a thousand heads, and some As noble, nay, even nobler than thine own. Glorious to save than slay, and slay i' the dark too Fie, Bertram! that was not a craft for thee! How would it look to see upon a spear The head of him whose heart was open to thee, Borne by thy hand before the shuddering people? And such may be my doom; for here I swear, minutes fly, And thou art lost!-thou! my sole benefactor, The only being who was constant to me Through every change. Yet, make me not a traitor! Let me save thee --but spare my honour! Lioni. Where Can lie the honour in a league of murder? And who are traitors save unto the state? Bertram. A league is still a compact, and more binding In honest hearts when words must stand for law; And in my mind, there is no traitor like He whose domestic treason plants the poniard Within the breast which trusted to his truth. Lioni. And who will strike the steel to mine? Lioni. Say, rather thy friend's saviour | SCENE II.—The Ducal Palace-the Doge's and the state's !— Lioni (continues). Take care He hath no harm; bring me my sword and cloak; And man the gondola with four oars- This needful violence is for thy safety, Bertram. Where wouldst thou Lioni. Firstly, to "The Ten;" Next to the Doge. Bertram. To the Doge? Is he not chief of the state? Apartment. As well had there been time to have got together From my own fief, Val di Marino, more Of our retainers-but it is too late. B. Fal. Methinks, my lord, 'tis better as it is; A sudden swelling of our retinue Had waked suspicion; and, though fierce and trusty, The vassals of that district are too rude The secret discipline we need for such And quick in quarrel to have long maintain'd A service, till our foes are dealt upon. Doge. True; but when once the signal has been given, These are the men for such an enterprise: Serfs of my county of Val di Marino, They are not used to start at those vain The die is thrown; but for a warlike service, Done in the field, commend me to my peasants; They made the sun shine through the host of Huns When sallow burghers slunk back to their tents, And cower'd to hear their own victorious trumpet. If there be small resistance, you will find These citizens all lions, like their standard; But if there's much to do, you'll wish, withme, A band of iron rustics at our backs. B. Fal. Thus thinking, I must marvel you resolved To strike the blow so suddenly. Doge. Such blows Must be struck suddenly or never. When I had o'ermaster'd the weak false remorse Which yearn'd about my heart, too fondly | Timoleon immortal, than to face yielding A moment to the feelings of old days, I know not well the courage or the faith: That moment, a mere voice, a straw, a shadow Are capable of turning them aside.— B. Fal. Almost upon the dawn. Doge. Then it is time to strike upon the bell. Are the men posted? B. Fal. By this time they are; But they have orders not to strike, until They have command from you through me in person, Doge. Tis well.—Will the morn never put to rest These stars which twinkle yet o'er all the heavens? I am settled and bound up, and being so, The very effort which it cost me to Resolve to cleanse this commonwealth with fire, Now leaves my mind more steady. I have wept, And trembled at the thought of this dread duty; But now I have put down all idle passion, And look the growing tempest in the face, As doth the pilot of an admiral-galley: Yet (wouldst thou think it, kinsman ?) it hath been A greater struggle to me, than when nations Beheld their fate merged in the approaching fight, Where I was leader of a phalanx, where The toils and dangers of a life of war. B. Fal. It gladdens me to see your former wisdom Subdue the furies which so wrung you ere You were decided. Doge. It was ever thus With me; the hour of agitation came To the subduing power which I preserved See that they strike without delay, and with The first toll from St. Mark's, march on the palace With all our house's strength! here I will meet you The Sixteen and their companies will move In separate columns at the self-same mo ment Be sure you post yourself by the great gate, I would not trust "The Ten" except to us— The rest, the rabble of patricians, may Glut the more careless swords of those leagued with us. Remember that the cry is still "Saint Mark! The Genoese are come-ho! to the rescue! Saint Mark and liberty!"-Now-now to action! B. Fal. Farewell then, noble uncle! we will meet In freedom and true sovereignty, or never! Doge. Come hither, my Bertuccio-one embrace " Speed, for the day grows broader-Send me soon A messenger to tell me how all goes The storm-bell from Saint Mark's! Doge (solus). He is gone, | And on each footstep moves a life.-Tis done. And for a moment poised in middle air, That slowly walk'st the waters! march- I would not smite i' the dark, but rather see That no stroke errs. And you, ye blue sea-waves! I have seen you dyed ere now, and deeply too, With Genoese, Saracen, and Hunnish gore, Now thou must wear an unmix'd crimson; no But friend or foe will roll in civic slaughter. Into the air, and cries from tens of thousands Thy prince, of treason? Who are they that dare Cloak their own treason under such an order? Sign. of the Night (showing his order). Behold my order from the assembled Ten. Doge. And where are they, and why assembled? no Such council can be lawful, till the prince Preside there, and that duty's mine: on thine And fame and length of days-to see this day? Oh men! what are ye, and our best designs, That we must work by crime to punish crime? And slay as if Death had but this one gate, And I, upon the verge of th' unknown realm, A murmur as of distant voices, and raise! It cannot be the signal hath not rung— back To the council-chamber. Sign. of the Night. Duke, it may not be; The state, and needs must serve it faithfully; signature It is illegal, and, as now applied, Rebellious-Hast thou weigh'd well thy life's worth, That thus you dare assume a lawless function? Sign. of the Night. Tis not my office I am placed here as guard upon thy person, Doge (aside). I must gain time - So that Our fate is trembling in the balance, and Upon its ponderous hinge the steep tower- [The great bell of Saint Mark's tolls. Lo! it sounds-it tolls! Doge (aloud). Hark, Signor of the Night! and you, ye hirelings, |