Belv. Alas! I know thy sorrows are most mighty;
I know thou'st cause to mourn, to mourn, my Jaffier,
With endless cries, and never-ceasing wailings;
Thou'st lost—
Jaff. Oh, I have lost what can't be counted!
My friend too, Belvidera,—that dear friend,
Who, next to thee, was all my health rejoiced in,—
Has used me like a slave, shamefully used me;
'Twould break thy pitying heart to hear the story!
What shall I do? resentment, indignation,
Love, pity, fear, and memory how I've wronged him,
Distract my quiet with the very thought on't,
And tear my heart to pieces in my bosom.
Jaff. Thou'dst hate me, should I tell thee.
Belv. Why?
Jaff. Oh, he has used me—yet, by Heaven, I bear it!
He has used me, Belvidera—but first swear
That when I've told thee thou'lt not loathe me utterly,
Though vilest blots and stains appear upon me;
But still at least, with charitable goodness,
Be near me in the pangs of my affliction—
Not scorn me, Belvidera, as he has done.
Belv. Have I then e'er been false, that now I'm doubted?
Speak, what's the cause I'm grown into distrust?
Why thought unfit to hear my love's complainings?
Jaff. Oh!
Belv. Tell me.
Jaff. Bear my failings, for they're many.
O my dear angel! in that friend I've lost
All my soul's peace; for every thought of him
Strikes my sense hard, and deads it in my brains.
Wouldst thou believe it?—