Those tears, or add my own. I could weep now,420
But would not gratify yon wretch so far.
Let us proceed. Doge, lead the way.
Lor. (to the Familiar).The torch, there!
Mar. Yes, light us on, as to a funeral pyre,
With Loredano mourning like an heir.
Doge. My son, you are feeble; take this hand.
Jac. Fos.Alas!
Must youth support itself on age, and I
Who ought to be the prop of yours?