Within his own, the soft and dimpled hand, Cam. Oh pure as thine! Believe it, Cosmo; Pure as thine own! Cos. 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 Chants daily requiems, that thy dower may swell 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. Cam. This kindness is the rack. Cos. Oh cruel! From exile, penury, shame Cam. Cos. I would but save thee He said so. He! And thou wilt listen? Cos. Patient as infancy. Cam. He goes to-night; And Inay, start not. Cos. What of thee? Cos. She raves. Cam. Cos. Stay with me. No. Then go, I should have told thee so; But when I would have said, Go! go! my tongue Clave to my mouth. Fos. Already! Write to me May ask my Candiote jailer if his prisoner Doge. I will write to thee. And think By sun, or moon, or star; in the bright day, Always Nor gaze on the last lingering look. Why doubt'st In the night's darkness, but one single thought thou? Fear me not-I'll be a true prisoner. I am a Foscari still, bound by one chain, Honour. Doge. Send them away. Fos. Leave us. [Exeunt Guards. Ay, now A word on such a reptile! I'd a world Of sad and loving things to say to thee, But there's a weight just here-Oh father! father! I thought to have been a comfort to thy age, Doge. I would not change my son, Implore no grace of them. And yet to leave this brave and tender heart Doge. One sure friend-Death. Fos. Will dwell in my old heart-My banished son. Cam. Alas! Francesco, why wilt thou prolong This useless agony? Age hath one friend, Oh I shall not be by To close thine eyes or kneel beside thy couch, Or gather from thy lips the last fond sound 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. 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 Into our banishment. Give me thy hand, My wife. Doge. I pray you pardon me-I'm oldI'm very old. Cam. Nay, sit not shivering there Upon the ground. Hast thou no word for me, Francesco? Fos. Is he gone? Quite gone? For ever? Cam. Take comfort. Fos. Is he gone? I did not say 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. Fortune, and friends, and home, to fly from them Hold them asunder, Count, and in my prayers Why thou wast my foe! Was welcomer than this. Work for me.-Ha! Cam. (behind the scene.) Here! Here! Move not a step. Dare not to stir. Camilla, Canst thou not hasten? Wouldst kill him o'er again?-He bleeds to death! Doge. Who hath done this? My son! My son! Cam. Fos. Mine own! Cos. And cold contempt, and bitter pardon-dared Thanks, gracious heaven! Lead him to instant death. Cos. Ay, I am the Doge; [Exit Erizzo guarded. My son! "T is I That am the only murderer of the earth- Live! [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 Of a broken heart? Look there. Cam. My Foscari! Fos. Hush! He revives. Camilla Is't Camilla? Is she not weeping? What! canst thou weep now, │ Cam. Fos. Is life. There's no need. Zeno. All. Seize Erizzo, bind him. Eriz. Is cheaply bought with life. Eriz. Ay! Do ye know me? Not a man of ye Death! Death! This joy Who talked of death? I cannot die That hover round us? There! There! There! Fos. Friends! Have they heard that I am innocent! [dier JULIAN, A TRAGEDY. TO 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 BERTONE, Servant to Count D'Alba. RENZI, an old Huntsman. An ARCHBISHOP. ANNABEL, Julian's Wife. Nobles, Prelates, Officers, Guards, Murderers, &c. The Scene is in and near Messina; the time of action two days. PROLOGUE. WRITTEN BY A FRIEND. THEY who in Prologues for your favours ask, To what may we allude ?-Our plot untold |