Doge. At sunset.—Stay a moment—let me see—
Say in the second hour of night. [Exit Pietro.
Ang. My Lord!150
Doge. My dearest child, forgive me—why delay
So long approaching me?—I saw you not.
Ang. You were absorbed in thought, and he who now
Has parted from you might have words of weight
To bear you from the Senate.
Doge. From the Senate?
Ang. I would not interrupt him in his duty
And theirs.
Doge. The Senate's duty! you mistake;
'Tis we who owe all service to the Senate.
Ang. I thought the Duke had held command in Venice.
Doge. He shall.—But let that pass.—We will be jocund.160
How fares it with you? have you been abroad?
The day is overcast, but the calm wave
Favours the gondolier's light skimming oar;
Or have you held a levee of your friends?
Or has your music made you solitary?
Say—is there aught that you would will within
The little sway now left the Duke? or aught
Of fitting splendour, or of honest pleasure,
Social or lonely, that would glad your heart,
To compensate for many a dull hour, wasted170
On an old man oft moved with many cares?
Speak, and 'tis done.
Ang. You're ever kind to me.
I have nothing to desire, or to request,
Except to see you oftener and calmer.