Yet, make me not a
traitor!
Byron
Excuse me, Bertram;
I am not worthy to be singled out
From such exalted hecatombs--who are they
That _are_ in danger, and that _make_ the danger?
_Ber_. Venice, and all that she inherits, are
Divided like a house against itself,
And so will perish ere to-morrow's twilight!
_Lioni_. More mysteries, and awful ones! But now,
Or thou, or I, or both, it may be, are 280
Upon the verge of ruin; speak once out,
And thou art safe and glorious: for 'tis more
Glorious to save than slay, and slay i' the dark too--
Fie, Bertram! that was not a craft for thee!
How would it look to see upon a spear
The head of him whose heart was open to thee!
Borne by thy hand before the shuddering people?
And such may be my doom; for here I swear,
Whate'er the peril or the penalty
Of thy denunciation, I go forth, 290
Unless thou dost detail the cause, and show
The consequence of all which led thee here!
_Ber_. Is there no way to save thee? minutes fly,
And thou art lost! --_thou_! my sole benefactor,
The only being who was constant to me
Through every change.
Yet, make me not a traitor!
Let me save thee--but spare my honour!
_Lioni_. Where
Can lie the honour in a league of murder?
And who are traitors save unto the State?
_Ber_. A league is still a compact, and more binding 300
In honest hearts when words must stand for law;
And in my mind, there is no traitor like
He whose domestic treason plants the poniard[435]
Within the breast which trusted to his truth.
Lioni. And who will strike the steel to mine?
_Ber_. Not I;
I could have wound my soul up to all things
Save this. _Thou_ must not die! and think how dear
Thy life is, when I risk so many lives,
Nay, more, the Life of lives, the liberty
Of future generations, _not_ to be 310
The assassin thou miscall'st me:--once, once more
I do adjure thee, pass not o'er thy threshold!
_Lioni_. It is in vain--this moment I go forth.
_Ber_.
I am not worthy to be singled out
From such exalted hecatombs--who are they
That _are_ in danger, and that _make_ the danger?
_Ber_. Venice, and all that she inherits, are
Divided like a house against itself,
And so will perish ere to-morrow's twilight!
_Lioni_. More mysteries, and awful ones! But now,
Or thou, or I, or both, it may be, are 280
Upon the verge of ruin; speak once out,
And thou art safe and glorious: for 'tis more
Glorious to save than slay, and slay i' the dark too--
Fie, Bertram! that was not a craft for thee!
How would it look to see upon a spear
The head of him whose heart was open to thee!
Borne by thy hand before the shuddering people?
And such may be my doom; for here I swear,
Whate'er the peril or the penalty
Of thy denunciation, I go forth, 290
Unless thou dost detail the cause, and show
The consequence of all which led thee here!
_Ber_. Is there no way to save thee? minutes fly,
And thou art lost! --_thou_! my sole benefactor,
The only being who was constant to me
Through every change.
Yet, make me not a traitor!
Let me save thee--but spare my honour!
_Lioni_. Where
Can lie the honour in a league of murder?
And who are traitors save unto the State?
_Ber_. A league is still a compact, and more binding 300
In honest hearts when words must stand for law;
And in my mind, there is no traitor like
He whose domestic treason plants the poniard[435]
Within the breast which trusted to his truth.
Lioni. And who will strike the steel to mine?
_Ber_. Not I;
I could have wound my soul up to all things
Save this. _Thou_ must not die! and think how dear
Thy life is, when I risk so many lives,
Nay, more, the Life of lives, the liberty
Of future generations, _not_ to be 310
The assassin thou miscall'st me:--once, once more
I do adjure thee, pass not o'er thy threshold!
_Lioni_. It is in vain--this moment I go forth.
_Ber_.
