Jaff. Fitting?
Pier. Yes, is't fitting?
Jaff. What's to be done?
Pier. I'd have thee undertake
Something that's noble, to preserve my memory
From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it.
Offi. The day grows late, sir.
Pier. I'll make haste. Oh, Jaffier,
Though thou'st betrayed me, do me some way justice.
Jaff. No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied;
I have a wife, and she shall bleed; my child too
Yield up his little throat, and all to appease thee—
[Going away, Pierre holds him.
Pier. No—this—no more! [He whispers Jaffier.
Jaff. Ha! is't then so?