Priu. Have you not wronged me?
Jaff. Could my nature e'er
Have brooked injustice, or the doing wrongs,
I need not now thus low have bent myself,
To gain a hearing from a cruel father!
Wronged you?
Priu. Yes, wronged me: in the nicest point,
The honour of my house, you've done me wrong.
You may remember,—for I now will speak,
And urge its baseness,—when you first came home
From travel, with such hopes as made you looked on
By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation,
Pleased with your growing virtue, I received you,
Courted, and sought to raise you to your merits:
My house, my table, nay, my fortune too,
My very self was yours; you might have used me
To your best service; like an open friend,
I treated, trusted you, and thought you mine;
When, in requital of my best endeavours,
You treacherously practised to undo me;
Seduced the weakness of my age's darling,
My only child, and stole her from my bosom—
O Belvidera!
Jaff. 'Tis to me you owe her;
Childless you had been else, and in the grave
Your name extinct, no more Priuli heard of.
You may remember, scarce five years are past
Since in your brigantine you sailed to see
The Adriatic wedded by our Duke,[64]
And I was with you: your unskilful pilot
Dashed us upon a rock, when to your boat
You made for safety; entered first yourself:
The affrighted Belvidera, following next,
As she stood trembling on the vessel's side,
Was by a wave washed off into the deep;
When instantly I plunged into the sea,
And, buffeting the billows to her rescue,
Redeemed her life with half the loss of mine.
Like a rich conquest, in one hand I bore her,
And with the other dashed the saucy waves,
That thronged and pressed to rob me of my prize:
I brought her, gave her to your despairing arms.
Indeed you thanked me; but a nobler gratitude
Rose in her soul; for from that hour she loved me,
Till for her life she paid me with herself.
Priu. You stole her from me; like a thief you stole her,
At dead of night, that cursèd hour you chose
To rifle me of all my heart held dear.
May all your joys in her prove false like mine!
A sterile fortune, and a barren bed,
Attend you both! continual discord make
Your days and nights bitter and grievous! still
May the hard hand of a vexatious need
Oppress and grind you, till at last you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion!
Jaff. Half of your curse you have bestowed in vain;
Heaven has already crowned our faithful loves
With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty:
May he live to prove more gentle than his grandsire,
And happier than his father!
Priu. Rather live
To bait thee for his bread, and din your ears
With hungry cries; whilst his unhappy mother
Sits down and weeps in bitterness of want.
Jaff. You talk as if 'twould please you.
Priu. 'Twould, by Heaven!
Once she was dear indeed; the drops that fell
From my sad heart when she forgot her duty,
The fountain of my life, were not so precious!
But she is gone, and if I am a man
I will forget her.