Pier. He durst not wrong his trust?
Jaff. 'Twas something late, though,
To take the freedom of a lady's chamber.
Pier. Was she in bed?
Jaff. Yes, faith, in virgin sheets
White as her bosom, Pierre, dished neatly up,
Might tempt a weaker appetite to taste.
Oh, how the old fox stunk, I warrant thee,
When the rank fit was on him!
Pier. Patience guide me!
He used no violence?
Jaff. No, no! out on't, violence!
Played with her neck, brushed her with his gray beard,
Struggled and towzed, tickled her till she squeaked a little,
May be, or so—but not a jot of violence.
Pier. Damn him!
Jaff. Ay, so say I: but hush, no more on't;
All hitherto is well, and I believe
Myself no monster,[71] yet: though no man knows
What fate he's born to. Sure 'tis near the hour
We all should meet for our concluding orders.
Will the ambassador be here in person?
Pier. No; he has sent commission to that villain,
Renault, to give the executing charge;
I'd have thee be a man, if possible,
And keep thy temper; for a brave revenge
Ne'er comes too late.
Jaff. Fear not, I'm cool as patience:
Had he completed my dishonour, rather
Than hazard the success our hopes are ripe for,
I'd bear it all with mortifying virtue.