dared I speak my
feelings!
Byron
What!
the same who dared
To stain the ducal throne with those foul words,
That have cried shame to every ear in Venice? 390
_Doge_. Aye, doubtless they have echoed o'er the arsenal,
Keeping due time with every hammer's clink,
As a good jest to jolly artisans;
Or making chorus to the creaking oar,
In the vile tune of every galley-slave,
Who, as he sung the merry stave, exulted
_He_ was not a shamed dotard like the Doge.
_I. Ber_. Is't possible? a month's imprisonment!
No more for Steno?
_Doge_. You have heard the offence,
And now you know his punishment; and then 400
You ask redress of _me_! Go to the Forty,
Who passed the sentence upon Michel Steno;
They'll do as much by Barbaro, no doubt.
_I. Ber_. Ah!
dared I speak my feelings!
_Doge_. Give them breath.
Mine have no further outrage to endure.
_I. Ber_. Then, in a word, it rests but on your word
To punish and avenge--I will not say
_My_ petty wrong, for what is a mere blow,
However vile, to such a thing as I am? --
But the base insult done your state and person. 410
_Doge_. You overrate my power, which is a pageant.
This Cap is not the Monarch's crown; these robes
Might move compassion, like a beggar's rags;
Nay, more, a beggar's are his own, and these
But lent to the poor puppet, who must play
Its part with all its empire in this ermine.
_I. Ber_. Wouldst thou be King?
_Doge_. Yes--of a happy people.
To stain the ducal throne with those foul words,
That have cried shame to every ear in Venice? 390
_Doge_. Aye, doubtless they have echoed o'er the arsenal,
Keeping due time with every hammer's clink,
As a good jest to jolly artisans;
Or making chorus to the creaking oar,
In the vile tune of every galley-slave,
Who, as he sung the merry stave, exulted
_He_ was not a shamed dotard like the Doge.
_I. Ber_. Is't possible? a month's imprisonment!
No more for Steno?
_Doge_. You have heard the offence,
And now you know his punishment; and then 400
You ask redress of _me_! Go to the Forty,
Who passed the sentence upon Michel Steno;
They'll do as much by Barbaro, no doubt.
_I. Ber_. Ah!
dared I speak my feelings!
_Doge_. Give them breath.
Mine have no further outrage to endure.
_I. Ber_. Then, in a word, it rests but on your word
To punish and avenge--I will not say
_My_ petty wrong, for what is a mere blow,
However vile, to such a thing as I am? --
But the base insult done your state and person. 410
_Doge_. You overrate my power, which is a pageant.
This Cap is not the Monarch's crown; these robes
Might move compassion, like a beggar's rags;
Nay, more, a beggar's are his own, and these
But lent to the poor puppet, who must play
Its part with all its empire in this ermine.
_I. Ber_. Wouldst thou be King?
_Doge_. Yes--of a happy people.
