Mar. But they have crushed.
Doge.Nor crushed as yet—I live.
Mar. And your son,—how long will he live?
Doge.I trust,
For all that yet is past, as many years
And happier than his father. The rash boy,
With womanish impatience to return,
Hath ruined all by that detected letter:
A high crime, which I neither can deny
Nor palliate, as parent or as Duke: