Pietro speaks, in entering, to Battista.

Pie. Is not the messenger returned?[cv]

Bat. Not yet;

I have sent frequently, as you commanded,

But still the Signory[380] is deep in council,

And long debate on Steno's accusation.

Pie. Too long—at least so thinks the Doge.

Bat. How bears he

These moments of suspense?

Pie. With struggling patience.[cw]

Placed at the Ducal table, covered o'er

With all the apparel of the state—petitions,

Despatches, judgments, acts, reprieves, reports,—

He sits as rapt in duty; but whene'er[cx]10

He hears the jarring of a distant door,

Or aught that intimates a coming step,[cy]

Or murmur of a voice, his quick eye wanders,

And he will start up from his chair, then pause,

And seat himself again, and fix his gaze

Upon some edict; but I have observed

For the last hour he has not turned a leaf.

Bat. 'Tis said he is much moved,—and doubtless 'twas

Foul scorn in Steno to offend so grossly.

Pie. Aye, if a poor man: Steno's a patrician,20

Young, galliard, gay, and haughty.[cz]

Bat. Then you think

He will not be judged hardly?

Pie. 'Twere enough

He be judged justly; but 'tis not for us

To anticipate the sentence of the Forty.

Bat. And here it comes.—What news, Vincenzo?

Enter Vincenzo.

Vin. 'Tis

Decided; but as yet his doom's unknown:

I saw the President in act to seal

The parchment which will bear the Forty's judgment

Unto the Doge, and hasten to inform him.

[Exeunt.