Only, signor,
A substitute. When the proud sun withdraws
His beams, we hail the star—less bright indeed,
That cheers the gloom.—Methinks I saw but now
Young Foscarini.—Ho! there.—
Enter Marco.
Farewell my lord—I’ll not detain you longer—
[Exit Contarini.
Let him go ponder on my words. Hence, Marco,
Seek Loredano, and entreat his presence