No More Learning

Thus much I've learnt, although
Venetian (who see few steeds save of bronze),[67]
From those Venetians who have skirred[68] the coasts
Of Egypt and her neighbour Araby:
And why not say as soon the "_generous man_? "
If race be aught, it is in qualities
More than in years; and mine, which is as old
As yours, is better in its product, nay--
Look not so stern--but get you back, and pore
Upon your genealogic tree's most green 300
Of leaves and most mature of fruits, and there
Blush to find ancestors, who would have blushed
For such a son--thou cold inveterate hater!

_Jac. Fos. _ Again, Marina!

_Mar. _ Again! _still_, Marina.
See you not, he comes here to glut his hate
With a last look upon our misery?
Let him partake it!

_Jac. Fos. _ That were difficult.

_Mar. _ Nothing more easy.
He partakes it now--
Aye, he may veil beneath a marble brow
And sneering lip the pang, but he partakes it. 310
A few brief words of truth shame the Devil's servants
No less than Master; I have probed his soul
A moment, as the Eternal Fire, ere long,
Will reach it always. See how he shrinks from me!
With death, and chains, and exile in his hand,
To scatter o'er his kind as he thinks fit;
They are his weapons, not his armour, for
I have pierced him to the core of his cold heart.
I care not for his frowns! We can but die,
And he but live, for him the very worst 320
Of destinies: each day secures him more
His tempter's.

_Jac. Fos. _ This is mere insanity.

_Mar. _ It may be so; and _who_ hath made us _mad_?

_Lor. _ Let her go on; it irks not me.

_Mar. _ That's false!
You came here to enjoy a heartless triumph
Of cold looks upon manifold griefs!