Pier. Then to what we aim at,
When do we start? or must we talk for ever?
Bed. No, Pierre, the deed's near birth: fate seems to have set
The business up, and given it to our care:
I hope there's not a heart nor hand amongst us
But is firm and ready.
All. All! We'll die with Bedamar.
Bed. Oh, men!
Matchless, as will your glory be hereafter.
The game is for a matchless prize, if won;
If lost, disgraceful ruin.
Ren. What can lose it?
The public stock's a beggar; one Venetian
Trusts not another. Look into their stores
Of general safety; empty magazines,
A tattered fleet, a murmuring unpaid army,
Bankrupt nobility, a harassed commonalty,
A factious, giddy, and divided Senate,
Is all the strength of Venice. Let's destroy it;
Let's fill their magazines with arms to awe them,
Man out their fleet, and make their trade maintain it;
Let loose the murmuring army on their masters,
To pay themselves with plunder; lop their nobles
To the base roots, whence most of them first sprung;
Enslave the rout, whom smarting will make humble;
Turn out their droning Senate, and possess
That seat of empire which our souls were framed for.
Pier. Ten thousand men are armèd at your nod,
Commanded all by leaders fit to guide
A battle for the freedom of the world;
This wretched state has starved them in its service,
And, by your bounty quickened, they're resolved
To serve your glory, and revenge their own:
They've all their different quarters in this city,
Watch for the alarm, and grumble 'tis so tardy.
Bed. I doubt not, friend, but thy unwearied diligence
Has still kept waking, and it shall have ease:
After this night, it is resolved we meet
No more, till Venice own us for her lords.
Pier. How lovelily the Adriatic whore,
Dressed in her flames, will shine!—devouring flames,
Such as shall burn her to the watery bottom,
And hiss in her foundation!
Bed. Now if any
'Mongst us that owns this glorious cause
Have friends or interest he'd wish to save,
Let it be told. The general doom is sealed;
But I'd forego the hopes of a world's empire,
Rather than wound the bowels of my friend.
Pier. I must confess, you there have touched my weakness:
I have a friend; hear it, such a friend!
My heart was ne'er shut to him. Nay, I'll tell you:
He knows the very business of this hour;
But he rejoices in the cause, and loves it;
We've changed a vow to live and die together,
And he's at hand to ratify it here.