Act 5 — SCENE V.

Badoero. Hath he disclosed aught? Doge. Nothing! Badoero (to Foscarini.) Then stand forth. To our arraignment thou confessest guilt? Foscarini. I broke the laws. Contarini. Guilty! Foscarini. On earth—perhaps In Heaven’s eye innocent. Badoero. Thy sentence hear— ’Till sunset shalt thou live—but at that hour— When the bell strikes—bid thine adieu to earth; Go now—and make thy peace with Heaven. Foscarini. ’Tis made Already—victim to your human laws, I hope acquittal there! [Exit, guarded. Contarini. So—until sunset! Too long a space remains. Why pause, when danger May wait on our delay? Badoero. What danger? Contarini. Hath he not Friends who may interfere to strike aside The axe of justice? He is much beloved By many citizens.

Steno. Signors—a tumult Is raised among the populace. Loredano. Rebellion? Steno. They throng the courts—and every tongue repeats The name of Foscarini. With acclaim They call for his release. Badoero. Lead forth the guard. Their sight will be enough. [Exit Steno. Contarini. Enough! how rash To tempt their fury! Need we linger now? Command his instant execution—let The rabble see what tumults will avail. Badoero. Not so. Should we anticipate the hour ’Twould show that we have feared them—that we heed The voice of faction. Let our first decree Be sacredly observed. (To Loredano.) Shall it not be so? Loredano. My judgment seconds yours.

Memmo (to Doge.) My liege, a lady, closely veiled, without, Entreats to see your highness. Doge. A lady? Memmo. She has passed The guard with prayers and bribes—and doth implore A moment’s audience—pleading that her business Concerns you strictly. Contarini. She cannot be admitted; She’s an accomplice——

Teresa. Back, back—hold me not! For shame, my lords, to judge without a witness— Without one witness—and to doom your victim When but a woman’s words might save him! Badoero. Who is’t That speaks so wildly? Teresa (throwing back her veil.) Look—and know me, all! I come to tell what he would not! Loredano. The wife of Contarini! Contarini. Sirs, I pray you, Heed not her words, but yield her to my keeping— And—— Teresa. To his keeping? his—the murderer! Let him not touch me with his blood-stained hands! My lord! Oh, keep me from his grasp! I’ll tell thee All—all! and if my words are wild and wayward, They are truth! If perchance my tongue doth falter, ’Tis not the weakness of the conscious soul! Hold! hold! and hear me! ‘Veniero. ‘My poor child! ‘Teresa. ‘No child! ‘No child of thine! Who was’t I called father? ‘Not one who caused all this! Fie! fie! do fathers ‘Thus immolate their children? I have heard ‘Of pyres and axes—and of men who stood ‘And hewed down arms that fondly twined with theirs— ‘And watched the gushing stream that had its source ‘In their own veins! But you—you rend asunder ‘The hidden strings of life—and yoke the spirit ‘To falsehood, from whose dark and subtle fold ‘No force can set it free! and when ’tis done, ‘And the soul wears the hue of misery— ‘And the brain burns—ye would repent the work ‘Yourself have wrought!’ Contarini. Woman! I do command you— Hence! Teresa. No! we stand within no dungeon now, With prison walls to hear—and him in chains To plead for you! Here reach no bribes of yours! Loredano. Who speaks of bribes? Teresa. They’re his! he used them, truly, To save the guiltless. Pshaw! what were his bribes? Gold—paltry gold! And mine! He claimed a price Nought could redeem! a perjured soul! a spirit Sold to perdition! Contarini. Ye perceive it plainly, Her frenzy;—nay—harass her not! Teresa. Silence! His words would ever mingle with my words, To strike me dumb! But I’ve a better spirit That bids me speak, and clear the innocent. Doge. Speak on—we hear thee. Teresa. Why then—he was false, Who said ye heard no truth? Beseech ye, listen! He loved me—Foscarini;—’twas not guilt,— But sorrow—sorrow! Me he came to meet, After that fatal bridal. Contarini. Hear no more! Veniero. Her tale is true, my lords!—I did compel her, To advance a purpose, thrice accursed, of mine, To wed one whom she hated;—he she loved, Returned upon her bridal night.—Ye saw Her anguish then! Teresa. Oh yes! we met within The garden that adjoins the Spaniard’s palace— That fatal palace!—and he came, to murder My Foscarini—sought him where he fled; Sought him, and found him! Then his malice wrought That horrid tale which has deceived you all, Of crime, and treason, and conspiracy;— Ye know it now—it blanches you with fear— You—to whom blood’s no stranger! Can you wonder It maddens me? Contarini. For shame—to lend an audience To this wild story, as if solemn truths Came from her lips! I tell you—she is mad! Teresa. Believe him not! nor hear him! if you do, Not Heaven can rescue you from his black cunning! ‘He’ll defy Heaven.—I am not mad—but dying! ‘My lord—my lord—the dying speak not falsely!’ Doge. It must be so. We have been deceived. (To Badoero.) Signor, Will you delay the execution?

Badoero (to Memmo.) Whence is this tumult, sir? Memmo. The guards have seized Vincentio, him who stirred the multitude To factious rage without. Contarini. Unheard of treason! Loredano. Move not, I pray you. But a moment past, Ye spoke, if I mistake not, of deferring The prisoner’s execution? Badoero. First secure That daring felon. Quell the stir without; That we seem not to yield grace to rebellion. [Bell tolls. Teresa. His knell—his knell! It strikes mine too! Badoero (to Memmo.) Begone—and stop the fatal signal! Say We do suspend the sentence. [Exit Memmo. Teresa. Bless thee—just one! There are yet gods on earth; and those above Will hail thee brother for this deed! Loredano. My lords, One act of justice more. Him I attach [pointing to Contarini. Of foul conspiracy. Contarini. Ha! Loredano. Look! this pacquet— Letters are here, which prove alliances With dangerous foes.—Here we may read the boasts In secresy recorded—what should chance When Contarini should be prince in Venice, With no stern Senate to control his will? Contarini. Who aided you to frame so fair a tale? Methinks it needs less dubious witnesses To give it credence! Loredano. They are ready;—one The lady Fiorilla! At that name You turn pale, Signor! Contarini. Idle words I’ve whispered Oft in her ear—but they can never rise Against me! Loredano. No! your written words condemn you— ’Twas at her house you met, in conclave dark, To weave your treasons. Her you deemed a tool; But she your guilt discovered, and reveals it. Veniero. I’ll witness to her truth: on my head too, Pronounce the traitor’s doom. ’Twill be too light To outweigh my crimes. Ye’ll hear the list anon!

Memmo. My lord, the prisoner—— Contarini. Away! ’tis mine To tell thy story:—in my fall, at least To drag some victims with me. Ha! ye thought To cheat me of revenge! It is accomplished! Lo! on the Piazetta! where the corpse Of Foscarini lies! Look! from yon casement! My cords took heed of him! You are too tardy! Away—and join your lover!

Badoero. Ho! the guard! Bear him hence! Chain the traitor!

Veniero. My daughter! my Teresa! Teresa. He is dead! They murdered him, even while they talked of mercy! Veniero. This, this is retribution! My wronged child! Speak—speak to me! Oh! I would barter Heaven But for one word! Teresa. What means this mist, this darkness Around me? Who supports me?—Father!—— Veniero. Speak! Canst thou forgive me? Teresa. Forgive? it is a sound To soothe the dying! Father! come thou near me! Stoop lower—lower—let me lean my head Upon thy breast—for oh! I’m weary!—weary!— This strange, cold sleep o’erpowers me.—If I wake not Before he come—bid him await me——here—— [Dies.