Venice Preserved: A Tragedy

by Thomas Otway

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.THE RIALTO.

Enter Jaffier.

Jaf. I'm here; and thus, the shades of night around me,

I look as if all hell were in my heart,

And I in hell. Nay surely 'tis so with me!—

For every step I tread, methinks some fiend

Knocks at my breast, and bids me not be quiet.

I've heard how desperate wretches, like myself,

Have wander'd out at this dead time of night,

To meet the foe of mankind in his walk.

Sure I'm so curs'd that, though of heaven forsaken,

No minister of darkness cares to tempt me.

Hell, hell! why sleep'st thou?

Enter Pierre.

Pier. Sure I've staid too long:

The clock has struck, and I may lose my proselyte.

Speak, who goes there?

Jaf. A dog, that comes to howl

At yonder moon. What's he that asks the question?

Pier. A friend to dogs, for they are honest creatures,

And ne'er betray their masters: never fawn

On any that they love not. Well met, friend:

Jaffier!

Jaf. The same.

Pier. Where's Belvidera?—

Jaf. For a day or two

I've lodg'd her privately, till I see further

What fortune will do for me. Pr'ythee, friend,

If thou wouldst have me fit to hear good counsel,

Speak not of Belvidera—

Pier. Not of her!

Jaf. Oh, no!

Pier. Not name her! May be I wish her well.

Jaf. Whom well?

Pier. Thy wife; thy lovely Belvidera.

I hope a man may wish his friend's wife well,

And no harm done?

Jaf. Y' are merry, Pierre.

Pier. I am so:

Thou shalt smile too, and Belvidera smile:

We'll all rejoice. Here's something to buy pins;

Marriage is chargeable.[gives him a purse.

Jaf. I but half wish'd

To see the devil, and he's here already. Well!

What must this buy? Rebellion, murder, treason?

Tell me, which way I must be damn'd for this.

Pier. When last we parted, we'd no qualms like these,

But entertain'd each other's thoughts like men

Whose souls were well acquainted. Is the world

Reform'd since our last meeting? What new miracles

Have happen'd? Has Priuli's heart relented?

Can he be honest?

Jaf. Kind heav'n, let heavy curses

Gall his old age; cramps, aches, rack his bones,

And bitterest disquiet wring his heart.

Oh! let him live, till life become his burden:

Let him groan under't long, linger an age

In the worst agonies and pangs of death,

And find its ease but late.

Pier. Nay, couldst thou not

As well, my friend, have stretch'd the curse to all

The senate round, as to one single villain?

Jaf. But curses stick not: could I kill with cursing,

By heaven I know not thirty heads in Venice

Should not be blasted. Senators should rot

Like dogs on dunghills. Oh! for a curse

To kill with!

Pier. Daggers! daggers are much better.

Jaf. Ha!

Pier. Daggers.

Jaf. But where are they?

Pier. Oh! a thousand

May be dispos'd of, in honest hands, in Venice.

Jaf. Thou talk'st in clouds.

Pier. But yet a heart, half wrong'd

As thine has been, would find the meaning, Jaffier.

Jaf. A thousand daggers, all in honest hands!

And have not I a friend will stick one here!

Pier. Yes, if I thought thou wert not cherish'd

T' a nobler purpose, I would be thy friend;

But thou hast better friends; friends whom thy wrongs

Have made thy friends; friends worthy to be call'd so.

I'll trust thee with a secret. There are spirits

This hour at work.—But as thou art a man,

Whom I have pick'd and chosen from the world,

Swear that thou wilt be true to what I utter;

And when I've told thee that which only gods,

And men like gods, are privy to, then swear

No chance or change shall wrest it from thy bosom.

Jaf. When thou wouldst bind me, is there need of oaths?

For thou'rt so near my heart, that thou may'st see

Its bottom, sound its strength and firmness to thee.

Is coward, fool, or villain, in my face?

If I seem none of these, I dare believe

Thou wouldst not use me in a little cause,

For I am fit for honour's toughest task,

Nor ever yet found fooling was my province;

And for a villainous, inglorious, enterprise,

I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine

Before thee, set it to what point thou wilt.

Pier. Nay, 'tis a cause thou wilt be fond of, Jaffier;

For it is founded on the noblest basis;

Our liberties, our natural inheritance.

There's no religion, no hypocrisy in't;

We'll do the business, and ne'er fast and pray for't;

Openly act a deed the world shall gaze

With wonder at, and envy when 'tis done.

Jaf. For liberty!

Pier. For liberty, my friend.

Thou shalt be freed from base Priuli's tyranny,

And thy sequester'd fortunes heal'd again:

I shall be free from those opprobrious wrongs

That press me now, and bend my spirit downward;

All Venice free, and every growing merit

Succeed to its just right: fools shall be pull'd

From wisdom's seat; those baleful, unclean birds,

Those lazy owls, who, perch'd near fortune's top,

Sit only watchful with their heavy wings

To cuff down new-fledg'd virtues, that would rise

To nobler heights, and make the grove harmonious.

Jaf. What can I do?

Pier. Canst thou not kill a senator?

Jaf. Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him.

For herding with that nest of fools and knaves.

By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge

Were to be had; and the brave story warms me.

Pier. Swear then!

Jaf. I do, by all those glittering stars,

And yon great ruling planet of the night;

By all good pow'rs above, and ill below;

By love and friendship, dearer than my life,

No pow'r or death shall make me false to thee.

Pier. Here we embrace, and I'll unlock my heart.

A council's held hard by, where the destruction

Of this great empire's hatching: there I'll lead thee.

But be a man! for thou'rt to mix with men

Fit to disturb the peace of all the world,

And rule it when it's wildest—

Jaf. I give thee thanks

For this kind warning. Yes, I'll be a man;

And charge thee, Pierre, whene'er thou seest my fears

Betray me less, to rip this heart of mine

Out of my breast, and show it for a coward's.

Come, let's be gone, for from this hour I chase

All little thoughts, all tender human follies

Out of my bosom. Vengeance shall have room:

Revenge!

Pier. And liberty!

Jaf. Revenge—revenge—[exeunt.

SCENE II. AQUILINA'S HOUSE.

Enter Renault.

Ren. Why was my choice ambition? the worst ground

A wretch can build on! It's, indeed, at distance,

A goodly prospect, tempting to the view;

The height delights us, and the mountain top

Looks beautiful, because it's nigh to heav'n.

But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundation,

What storm will batter, and what tempest shake us.

Who's there?

Enter Spinosa.

Spin. Renault, good morrow, for by this time

I think the scale of night has turn'd the balance,

And weighs up morning! Has the clock struck twelve?

Ren. Yes! clocks will go as they are set; but man,

Irregular man's ne'er constant, never certain:

I've spent at least three precious hours of darkness

In waiting dull attendance: 'tis the curse

Of diligent virtue to be mix'd, like mine,

With giddy tempers, souls but half resolv'd.

Spin. Hell seize that soul amongst us it can frighten.

Ren. What's then the cause that I am here alone?

Why are we not together?

Enter Elliott.

O, sir, welcome!

You are an Englishman: when treason's hatching,

One might have thought you'd not have been behindhand.

In what whore's lap have you been lolling?

Give but an Englishman his whore and ease,

Beef, and a sea-coal fire, he's yours for ever.

Ell. Frenchman, you are saucy.

Ren. How!

Enter Bedamar, the Ambassador; Theodore, Bramveil, Durand, Brabe, Revillido, Mezzana, Ternon, and Retrosi, Conspirators.

Bed. At difference; fie!

Is this a time for quarrels? Thieves and rogues

Fall out and brawl: should men of your high calling,

Men separated by the choice of Providence

From the gross heap of mankind, and set here

In this assembly as in one great jewel,

T' adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smil'd on;

Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles?

Ren. Boys!

Bed. Renault, thy hand.

Ren. I thought I'd given my heart

Long since to every man that mingles here;

But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers,

That can't forgive my froward age its weakness.

Bed. Elliott, thou once hadst virtue. I have seen

Thy stubborn temper bend with godlike goodness,

Not half thus courted. 'Tis thy nation's glory

To hug the foe that offers brave alliance.

Once more embrace, my friends—we'll all embrace.

United thus, we are the mighty engine

Must twist this rooted empire from its basis.

Totters not it already?

Ell. Would 'twere tumbling.

Bed. Nay, it shall down; this night we seal its ruin.

Enter Pierre.

Oh, Pierre, thou art welcome.

Come to my breast, for by its hopes thou look'st

Lovelily dreadful, and the fate of Venice

Seems on thy sword already. Oh, my Mars!

The poets that first feign'd a god of war,

Sure prophesied of thee.

Pier. Friend, was not Brutus

(I mean that Brutus, who in open senate

Stabb'd the first Cæsar that usurp'd the world),

A gallant man?

Ren. Yes, and Catiline too;

Though story wrong his fame: for he conspir'd

To prop the reeling glory of his country:

His cause was good.

Bed. And ours as much above it,

As, Renault, thou'rt superior to Cethegus,

Or Pierre to Cassius.

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 or hand amongst us,

But is firm and ready.

All. All.

We'll die with Bedamar.

Bed. O men

Matchless! as will your glory be hereafter:

The game is for a matchless prize, if won;

If lost, disgraceful ruin.

Pier. Ten thousand men are armed at your nod,

Commanded all by leaders fit to guide

A battle for the freedom of the world:

This wretched state has starv'd them in its service;

And, by your bounty quicken'd, they're resolved

To serve your glory, and revenge their own:

They've all their different quarters in this city,

Watch for th' 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 resolv'd we meet

No more, till Venice owns us for her lords.

Pier. How lovelily the Adriatic whore,

Dress'd 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

Amongst us, that owns this glorious cause,

Have friends or interest he'd wish to save,

Let it be told: the general doom is seal'd;

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 touch'd 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 chang'd a vow to live and die together,

And he's at hand to ratify it here.

Ren. How! all betray'd!

Pier. No—I've nobly dealt with you;

I've brought my all into the public stock:

I've but one friend, and him I'll share among you:

Receive and cherish him; or if, when seen

And search'd, you find him worthless,—as my tongue

Has lodg'd this secret in his faithful breast,—

To ease your fears, I wear a dagger here

Shall rip it out again, and give you rest.

Come forth, thou only good I e'er could boast of.

Enter Jaffier, with a dagger.

Bed. His presence bears the show of manly virtue.

Jaf. I know you'll wonder all, that, thus uncall'd,

I dare approach this place of fatal councils;

But I'm amongst you, and by heav'n it glads me

To see so many virtues thus united

To restore justice, and dethrone oppression.

Command this sword, if you would have it quiet,

Into this breast; but, if you think it worthy

To cut the throats of reverend rogues in robes,

Send me into the curs'd assembled senate:

It shrinks not, though I meet a father there.

Would you behold this city flaming? here's

A hand shall bear a lighted torch at noon

To th' arsenal, and set its gates on fire.

Ren. You talk this well, sir.

Jaf. Nay—by heaven I'll do this.

Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces;

You fear me villain, and, indeed, it's odd

To hear a stranger talk thus, at first meeting,

Of matters that have been so well debated;

But I come ripe with wrongs, as you with councils.

I hate this senate, am a foe to Venice;

A friend to none, but men resolv'd like me

To push on mischief. Oh! did you but know me,

I need not talk thus!

Bed. Pierre, I must embrace him.

My heart beats to this man, as if it knew him.

Ren. I never lov'd these huggers.

Jaf. Still I see

The cause delights ye not. Your friends survey me

As I were dangerous—But I come arm'd

Against all doubts, and to your trust will give

A pledge, worth more than all the world can pay for.

My Belvidera. Hoa; my Belvidera!

Bed. What wonder's next?

Jaf. Let me entreat you,

As I have henceforth hopes to call you friends,

That all but the ambassador, and this

Grave guide of councils, with my friend that owns me,

Withdraw awhile, to spare a woman's blushes.

[exeunt all but Bedamar, Renault, Jaffier, and Pierre.

Enter Belvidera.

Bed. Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead us?

Jaf. My Belvidera! Belvidera!

Bel. Who,

Who calls so loud at this late peaceful hour?

That voice was wont to come in gentle whispers,

And fill my ears with the soft breath of love.

Thou hourly image of my thoughts, where art thou?

Jaf. Indeed 'tis late.

Bel. Alas! where am I? whither is't you lead me?

Methinks I read distraction in your face,

Something less gentle than the fate you tell me.

You shake and tremble too! your blood runs cold!

Heav'ns guard my love, and bless his heart with patience.

Jaf. That I have patience, let our fate bear witness,

Who has ordain'd it so, that thou and I

(Thou, the divinest good man e'er possess'd,

And I, the wretched'st of the race of man)

This very hour, without one tear, must part.

Bel. Part! must we part? Oh, am I then forsaken?

Why drag you from me? Whither are you going?

My dear! my life! my love!

Jaf. Oh, friends!

Bel. Speak to me.

Jaf. Take her from my heart,

She'll gain such hold else, I shall ne'er get loose.

I charge thee take her, but with tender'st care

Relieve her troubles, and assuage her sorrows.

Ren. Rise, madam, and command amongst your servants.

Jaf. To you, sirs, and your honours, I bequeath her;

[gives a dagger.

And with her this; when I prove unworthy—

You know the rest——then strike it to her heart;

And tell her, he who three whole happy years

Lay in her arms, and each kind night repeated

The passionate vows of still increasing love,

Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.

Bel. Nay, take my life, since he has sold it cheaply.

O! thou unkind one;

Never meet more! have I deserv'd this from you;

Look on me, tell me, speak, thou fair deceiver.

Why am I separated from thy love?

If I am false, accuse me; but if true,

Don't, pr'ythee don't, in poverty forsake me,

But pity the sad heart that's torn with parting.

Yet hear me, yet recall me—[ex. Ren. Bed. and Bel.

Jaf. Oh! my eyes,

Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile

Into my heart, and be wean'd altogether.

My friend, where art thou?

Pier. Here, my honour's brother.

Jaf. Is Belvidera gone?

Pier. Renault has led her

Back to her own apartment; but, by heav'n,

Thou must not see her more, till our work's over.

Jaf. No!

Pier. Not for your life.

Jaf. Oh, Pierre, wert thou but she,

How I would pull thee down into my heart,

Gaze on thee, till my eye-strings crack'd with love;

Then, swelling, sighing, raging to be blest,

Come like a panting turtle to thy breast;

On thy soft bosom hovering, bill and play,

Confess the cause why last I fled away;

Own 'twas a fault, but swear to give it o'er,

And never follow false ambition more.[exeunt.

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