[Guard conducting Jacopo Foscari to the window.

Guard.‍There, sir, 'tis

Open.—How feel you?

Jac. Fos.‍Like a boy—Oh Venice!

Guard. And your limbs?

Jac. Fos.‍Limbs! how often have they borne me[42]

Bounding o'er yon blue tide, as I have skimmed

The gondola along in childish race,

And, masqued as a young gondolier, amidst

My gay competitors, noble as I,