_I. Ber_. Away, then, to your posts! I but remain A moment to accompany the Doge To our late place of tryst, to see no spies Have been upon the scout, and thence I hasten To where my allotted band is under arms. _Cal_. Farewell, then,--until dawn! _I. Ber_. Success go with you! _Consp_. We will not fail--Away! My Lord, farewell! 430 [_The Conspirators salute the_ DOGE _and_ ISRAEL BERTUCCIO, _and retire, headed by_ PHILIP CALENDARO. _The_ DOGE _and_ ISRAEL BERTUCCIO _remain_. _I. Ber_. We have them in the toil--it cannot fail! Now thou'rt indeed a Sovereign, and wilt make A name immortal greater than the greatest: Free citizens have struck at Kings ere now; Cæsars have fallen, and even patrician hands Have crushed dictators, as the popular steel Has reached patricians: but, until this hour, What Prince has plotted for his people's freedom? Or risked a life to liberate his subjects? For ever, and for ever, they conspire 440 Against the people, to abuse their hands To chains, but laid aside to carry weapons Against the fellow nations, so that yoke On yoke, and slavery and death may whet, _Not glut_, the never-gorged Leviathan! Now, my Lord, to our enterprise;--'tis great, And greater the reward; why stand you rapt? A moment back, and you were all impatience! _Doge_. And is it then decided! must they die? _I. Ber_. Who? _Doge_. My own friends by blood and courtesy, 450 And many deeds and days--the Senators? _I. Ber_. You passed their sentence, and it is a just one. _Doge_. Aye, so it seems, and so it is to _you_; You are a patriot, a plebeian Gracchus--[ea] The rebel's oracle, the people's tribune-- I blame you not--you act in your vocation;[430] They smote you, and oppressed you, and despised you; So they have _me_: but _you_ ne'er spake with them; You never broke their bread, nor shared their salt; You never had their wine-cup at your lips: 460 You grew not up with them, nor laughed, nor wept, Nor held a revel in their company; Ne'er smiled to see them smile, nor claimed their smile In social interchange for yours, nor trusted Nor wore them in your heart of hearts, as I have: These hairs of mine are grey, and so are theirs, The elders of the Council: I remember When all our locks were like the raven's wing, As we went forth to take our prey around The isles wrung from the false Mahometan; 470 And can I see them dabbled o'er with blood? Each stab to them will seem my suicide.