Pier. Rats die in holes and corners, dogs run mad;
Man knows a braver remedy for sorrow:
Revenge! the attribute of gods; they stamped it
With their great image on our natures. Die!
Consider well the cause that calls upon thee,
And, if thou'rt base enough, die then. Remember
Thy Belvidera suffers; Belvidera!
Die!—damn first!—what! be decently interred
In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust
With stinking rogues that rot in dirty winding-sheets,
Surfeit-slain fools, the common dung of the soil?
Jaff. Oh!
Pier. Well said, out with it, swear a little—
Jaff. Swear!
By sea and air, by earth, by Heaven and hell,
I will revenge my Belvidera's tears!
Hark thee, my friend: Priuli—is—a senator!
Pier. A dog!
Jaff. Agreed.
Pier. Shoot him.
Jaff. With all my heart.
No more. Where shall we meet at night?
Pier. I'll tell thee;
On the Rialto every night at twelve
I take my evening's walk of meditation:
There we will meet, and talk of precious mischief.
Jaff. Farewell.