Of slaves and traitors. In this blazing
We leave a nobler monument than Egypt
Hath piled in her brick mountains, o'er dead kings,
Or kine, for none know whether those proud piles
Be for their monarch, or their ox-god Apis;
So much for monuments that have forgotten
Their very record!
Myr. Then farewell, thou earth!
And loveliest spot of earth! farewell, Ionia!
Be thou still free and beautiful, and far
|Aloof from desolation! My last prayer||490|
Sar. And that?
Myr. Is yours.
[The trumpet of PANIA sounds without.
Sar. Adieu, Assyria!
I loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land,
And better as my country than my kingdom.
I sated thee with peace and joys; and this
Is my reward! and now I owe thee nothing,
Not even a grave. [He mounts the pile.
Myr. Art thou ready?
Sar. As the torch in thy grasp.
[ MYRRHAfires the pile.
Myr. 'T is fired! I come.
As MYRRHA springs forward to throw herself into the flames, the Curtain falls.
|FRACIS FOSCARI, Doge of Venice."|
|JACOPO FOSCARI, Son of the Doge.|
|JAMES LOREDANO, a Patrician.|
|MARCO MEMMO, a Chief of the Forty.|
|BARBARIGO, a Senator.|
|Other Senators, The Council of Ten,|
|Guards, Attendants, etc., etc.|
MARMA, Wife of young FOSCARI.
Scene -- the Ducal Palace, Venice.
A Hall in the Ducal Palace.
Enter LOREDANOand BAREARIGO, meeting.
Lor. Where is the prisoner?
Bar. Reposing from
Lor. The hour's past -- fix'd yesterday
For the resumption of his trial. -- Let us
Rejoin our colleagues in the council, and
Urge his recall.
Bar. Nay, let him profit by
A few brief minutes for his tortured limbs;
He was o'erwrought by the Question yes-terday,
And may die under it if now repeated.
Bar. I yield not to you in love of justice
|Or hate of the ambitious Foscari,||10|
But the poor wretch has suffer'd beyond nature's
Most stoical endurance.
Lor. Without owning
Bar. Perhaps without committing any.
But he avow'd the letter to the Duke
Of Milan, and his sufferings half atone for
Lor. We shall see.
Bar. You, Loredano,
Pursue hereditary hate too far.
Lor. How far?
Bar. To extermination.
Lor. When they are
Extinct, you may say this. -- Let's in to
Complete yet; two are wanting ere we can
Lor. And the chief judge, the Doge?
Bar. No -- he,
With more than Roman fortitude, is ever
First at the board in this unhappy process
Against his last and only son.
Lor. True -- true --
Bar. Will nothing move you?
Lor.Feels he, think you?
Bar. He shows it not.
Lor. I have marked that -- the wretch!