_Ang_. Yet this existed long before, and never Till in these late days did I see you thus. Forgive me; there is something at your heart More than the mere discharge of public duties, 190 Which long use and a talent like to yours Have rendered light, nay, a necessity, To keep your mind from stagnating. 'Tis not In hostile states, nor perils, thus to shake you,-- You, who have stood all storms and never sunk, And climbed up to the pinnacle of power And never fainted by the way, and stand Upon it, and can look down steadily Along the depth beneath, and ne'er feel dizzy. Were Genoa's galleys riding in the port, 200 Were civil fury raging in Saint Mark's, You are not to be wrought on, but would fall, As you have risen, with an unaltered brow: Your feelings now are of a different kind; Something has stung your pride, not patriotism. _Doge_. Pride! Angiolina? Alas! none is left me. _Ang_. Yes--the same sin that overthrew the angels, And of all sins most easily besets Mortals the nearest to the angelic nature: The vile are only vain; the great are proud. 210 _Doge_. I _had_ the pride of honour, of _your_ honour, Deep at my heart--But let us change the theme. _Ang_. Ah no!--As I have ever shared your kindness In all things else, let me not be shut out From your distress: were it of public import, You know I never sought, would never seek To win a word from you; but feeling now Your grief is private, it belongs to me To lighten or divide it. Since the day When foolish Steno's ribaldry detected 220 Unfixed your quiet, you are greatly changed, And I would soothe you back to what you were. _Doge_. To what I was!--have you heard Steno's sentence? _Ang_. No. _Doge_. A month's arrest. _Ang_. Is it not enough? _Doge_. Enough!--yes, for a drunken galley slave, Who, stung by stripes, may murmur at his master; But not for a deliberate, false, cool villain, Who stains a Lady's and a Prince's honour Even on the throne of his authority. _Ang_. There seems to be enough in the conviction 230 Of a patrician guilty of a falsehood: All other punishment were light unto His loss of honour. _Doge_. Such men have no honour; They have but their vile lives--and these are spared. _Ang_. You would not have him die for this offence? _Doge_. Not _now_:--being still alive, I'd have him live Long as _he_ can; he has ceased to merit death; The guilty saved hath damned his hundred judges, And he is pure, for now his crime is theirs.