No More Learning

I am. Nor is there aught which shall impede me!

_Ber_. Then, Heaven have mercy on thy soul! --Farewell!
[_Going_.

_Lioni_. Stay--there is more in this than my own safety
Which makes me call thee back; we must not part thus:
Bertram, I have known thee long.

_Ber_. From childhood, Signor,
You have been my protector: in the days
Of reckless infancy, when rank forgets, 200
Or, rather, is not yet taught to remember
Its cold prerogative, we played together;
Our sports, our smiles, our tears, were mingled oft;
My father was your father's client, I
His son's scarce less than foster-brother; years
Saw us together--happy, heart-full hours!
Oh God! the difference 'twixt those hours and this!

_Lioni_. Bertram, 'tis thou who hast forgotten them.

_Ber_.
Nor now, nor ever; whatsoe'er betide,
I would have saved you: when to Manhood's growth 210
We sprung, and you, devoted to the state,
As suits your station, the more humble Bertram
Was left unto the labours of the humble,
Still you forsook me not; and if my fortunes
Have not been towering, 'twas no fault of him
Who ofttimes rescued and supported me,
When struggling with the tides of Circumstance,
Which bear away the weaker: noble blood
Ne'er mantled in a nobler heart than thine
Has proved to me, the poor plebeian Bertram. 220
Would that thy fellow Senators were like thee!

_Lioni_. Why, what hast thou to say against the Senate? [en]

_Ber_. Nothing.

_Lioni_. I know that there are angry spirits
And turbulent mutterers of stifled treason,
Who lurk in narrow places, and walk out
Muffled to whisper curses to the night;
Disbanded soldiers, discontented ruffians,
And desperate libertines who brawl in taverns;
_Thou_ herdest not with such: 'tis true, of late
I have lost sight of thee, but thou wert wont 230
To lead a temperate life, and break thy bread
With honest mates, and bear a cheerful aspect.
What hath come to thee? in thy hollow eye
And hueless cheek, and thine unquiet motions,
Sorrow and Shame and Conscience seem at war
To waste thee.

_Ber_. Rather Shame and Sorrow light
On the accursed tyranny which rides[eo]
The very air in Venice, and makes men
Madden as in the last hours of the plague
Which sweeps the soul deliriously from life! 240

_Lioni_. Some villains have been tampering with thee, Bertram;
This is not thy old language, nor own thoughts;
Some wretch has made thee drunk with disaffection:
But thou must not be lost so; thou _wert_ good
And kind, and art not fit for such base acts
As Vice and Villany would put thee to:
Confess--confide in me--thou know'st my nature.
What is it thou and thine are bound to do,
Which should prevent thy friend, the only son
Of him who was a friend unto thy father, 250
So that our good-will is a heritage
We should bequeath to our posterity
Such as ourselves received it, or augmented;
I say, what is it thou must do, that I
Should deem thee dangerous, and keep the house
Like a sick girl?

_Ber_.