_Doge_. Ye, though you know and feel our mutual mass Of many wrongs, even ye are ignorant[dv] What fatal poison to the springs of Life, To human ties, and all that's good and dear, Lurks in the present institutes of Venice: All these men were my friends; I loved them, they Requited honourably my regards; 320 We served and fought; we smiled and wept in concert; We revelled or we sorrowed side by side; We made alliances of blood and marriage; We grew in years and honours fairly,--till Their own desire, not my ambition, made Them choose me for their Prince, and then farewell! Farewell all social memory! all thoughts In common! and sweet bonds which link old friendships, When the survivors of long years and actions, Which now belong to history, soothe the days 330 Which yet remain by treasuring each other, And never meet, but each beholds the mirror Of half a century on his brother's brow, And sees a hundred beings, now in earth, Flit round them whispering of the days gone by, And seeming not all dead, as long as two Of the brave, joyous, reckless, glorious band, Which once were one and many, still retain A breath to sigh for them, a tongue to speak Of deeds that else were silent, save on marble---- 340 _Oimé Oimé!_[428]--and must I do this deed? _I. Ber_. My Lord, you are much moved: it is not now That such things must be dwelt upon. _Doge_. Your patience A moment--I recede not: mark with me The gloomy vices of this government. From the hour they made me Doge, the _Doge_ they _made_ me-- Farewell the past! I died to all that had been, Or rather they to me: no friends, no kindness, No privacy of life--all were cut off: They came not near me--such approach gave umbrage; 350 They could not love me--such was not the law; They thwarted me--'twas the state's policy; They baffled me--'twas a patrician's duty; They wronged me, for such was to right the state; They could not right me--that would give suspicion; So that I was a slave to my own subjects; So that I was a foe to my own friends; Begirt with spies for guards, with robes for power, With pomp for freedom, gaolers for a council, Inquisitors for friends, and Hell for life! 360 I had only one fount of quiet left, And _that_ they poisoned! My pure household gods[429] Were shivered on my hearth, and o'er their shrine Sate grinning Ribaldry, and sneering Scorn.[dw] _I. Ber_. You have been deeply wronged, and now shall be Nobly avenged before another night.