Venice Preserved: A Tragedy

by Thomas Otway

VENICE PRESERVED.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I. A STREET IN VENICE.

Enter Priuli and Jaffier.

Pri. No more! I'll hear no more! Be gone and leave me.

Jaf. Not hear me! By my suffering, but you shall!

My lord, my lord! I'm not that abject wretch

You think me. Patience! where's the distance throws

Me back so far, but I may boldly speak

In right, though proud oppression will not hear me?

Pri. Have you not wrong'd me?

Jaf. Could my nature e'er

Have brook'd injustice, or the doing wrongs,

I need not now thus low have bent myself

To gain a hearing from a cruel father.

Wrong'd you?

Pri. Yes, wrong'd 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 look'd on,

By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation,

Pleas'd with your growing virtue, I receiv'd 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 us'd 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 practis'd to undo me.

Jaf. Yes, all, and then adieu for ever.

There's not a wretch, that lives on common charity,

But's happier than me: for I have known

The luscious sweets of plenty; every night

Have slept with soft content about my head,

And never wak'd, but to a joyful morning;

Yet now must fall, like a full ear of corn,

Whose blossom 'scap'd, yet's wither'd in the ripening.

Pri. Home, and be humble; study to retrench;

Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,

Those pageants of thy folly:

Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife

To humble weeds, fit for thy little state:

Then, to some suburb cottage both retire;

Drudge to feed loathsome life; get brats and starve—

Home, home, I say.[exit.

Jaf. Yes, if my heart would let me—

This proud, this swelling heart: home I would go,

But that my doors are baleful to my eyes,

Fill'd and dam'd up with gaping creditors,

Watchful as fowlers when their game will spring.

I've now not fifty ducats in the world,

Yet still I am in love, and pleas'd with ruin.

Oh! Belvidera! Oh! she is my wife—

And we will bear our wayward fate together,

But ne'er know comfort more.

Enter Pierre.

Pier. My friend, good morrow;

How fares the honest partner of my heart?

What, melancholy! not a word to spare me?

Jaf. I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damn'd starving quality,

Call'd honesty, got footing in the world.

Pier. Why, powerful villany first set it up,

For its own ease and safety. Honest men

Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves

Repose and fatten. Were all mankind villains,

They'd starve each other; lawyers would want practice,

Cut-throats rewards: each man would kill his brother

Himself; none would be paid or hang'd for murder.

Honesty! 'twas a cheat invented first

To bind the hands of bold deserving rogues,

That fools and cowards might sit safe in power,

And lord it uncontrol'd above their betters.

Jaf. Then honesty is but a notion?

Pier. Nothing else;

Like wit, much talk'd of, not to be defin'd:

He that pretends to most, too, has least share in't.

'Tis a ragged virtue: Honesty! no more on't.

Jaf. Sure thou art honest!

Pier. So, indeed, men think me;

But they're mistaken, Jaffier: I'm a rogue

As well as they;

A fine, gay, bold-fac'd villain as thou seest me.

'Tis true, I pay my debts, when they're contracted;

I steal from no man; would not cut a throat

To gain admission to a great man's purse,

Or a whore's bed; I'd not betray my friend

To get his place or fortune; I scorn to flatter

A blown-up fool above me, or crush the wretch beneath me;

Yet, Jaffier, for all this I'm a villain.

Jaf. A villain!

Pier. Yes, a most notorious villain;

To see the sufferings of my fellow creatures,

And own myself a man: to see our senators

Cheat the deluded people with a show

Of liberty, which yet they ne'er must taste of.

They say, by them our hands are free from fetters;

Yet whom they please they lay in basest bonds;

Bring whom they please to infamy and sorrow;

Drive us, like wrecks, down the rough tide of power,

Whilst no hold's left to save us from destruction.

All that bear this are villains, and I one,

Not to rouse up at the great call of nature,

And check the growth of these domestic spoilers,

That make us slaves, and tell us, 'tis our charter.

Jaf. I think no safety can be here for virtue,

And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live

In such a wretched state as this of Venice,

Where all agree to spoil the public good;

And villains fatten with the brave man's labours.

Pier. We've neither safety, unity, nor peace,

For the foundation's lost of common good;

Justice is lame, as well as blind, amongst us;

The laws (corrupted to their ends that make 'em)

Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny,

That every day starts up, t' enslave us deeper.

Now could this glorious cause but find out friends

To do it right, oh, Jaffier! then might'st thou

Not wear these seals of woe upon thy face;

The proud Priuli should be taught humanity,

And learn to value such a son as thou art.

I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment.

Jaf. Curs'd be the cause, though I thy friend be part on't:

Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom,

For I am us'd to misery, and perhaps

May find a way to sweeten't to thy spirit.

Pier. Too soon 'twill reach thy knowledge—

Jaf. Then from thee

Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship,

Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing,

Strengthen my constancy and welcome ruin.

Pier. Then thou art ruined!

Jaf. That I long since knew;

I and ill fortune have been long acquainted.

Pier. I pass'd this very moment by thy doors,

And found them guarded by a troop of villains;

The sons of public rapine were destroying.

They told me, by the sentence of the law,

They had commission to seize all thy fortune:

Nay more, Priuli's cruel hand had sign'd it.

Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face,

Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate,

Tumbled into a heap for public sale;

There was another, making villanous jests

At thy undoing: he had ta'en possession

Of all thy ancient, most domestic, ornaments,

Rich hangings intermix'd and wrought with gold;

The very bed, which on thy wedding-night

Receiv'd thee to the arms of Belvidera,

The scene of all thy joys, was violated

By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains,

And thrown amongst the common lumber.

Jaf. Now, thank heaven—

Pier. Thank heaven! for what?

Jaf. That I'm not worth a ducat.

Pier. Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of Venice,

Where brothers, friends, and fathers, all are false;

Where there's no truth, no trust; where innocence

Stoops under vile oppression, and vice lords it.

Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how at last

Thy beauteous Belvidera, like a wretch

That's doom'd to banishment, came weeping forth,

Shining through tears, like April suns in showers,

That labour to o'ercome the cloud that loads 'em;

Whilst two young virgins, on whose arms she lean'd,

Kindly look'd up, and at her grief grew sad,

As if they catch'd the sorrows that fell from her.

Ev'n the lewd rabble, that were gather'd round

To see the sight, stood mute when they beheld her;

Govern'd their roaring throats, and grumbled pity.

I could have hugg'd the greasy rogues: they pleas'd me.

Jaf. I thank thee for this story, from my soul;

Since now I know the worst that can befal me.

Ah, Pierre! I have a heart that could have borne

The roughest wrong my fortune could have done me;

But when I think what Belvidera feels,

The bitterness her tender spirit tastes of,

I own myself a coward: bear my weakness;

If, throwing thus my arms about thy neck,

I play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom.

Oh! I shall drown thee with my sorrows.

Pier. Burn,

First burn and level Venice to thy ruin.

What! starve, like beggars' brats, in frosty weather,

Under a hedge, and whine ourselves to death!

Thou or thy cause shall never want assistance,

Whilst I have blood or fortune fit to serve thee:

Command my heart, thou'rt every way its master.

Jaf. No, there's a secret pride in bravely dying.

Pier. Rats die in holes and corners, dogs run mad;

Man knows a braver remedy for sorrow:

Revenge, the attribute of gods; they stamp'd 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 interr'd

In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust

With stinking rogues, that rot in winding-sheets,

Surfeit-slain fools, the common dung o'th' soil!

Jaf. Oh!

Pier. Well said, out with't, swear a little—

Jaf. Swear! By sea and air; by earth, by heav'n, and hell,

I will revenge my Belvidera's tears.

Hark thee, my friend—Priuli—is—a senator.

Pier. A dog.

Jaf. Agreed.

Pier. Shoot him.

Jaf. 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 two will meet, and talk of precious

Mischief—

Jaf. Farewell.

Pier. At twelve.

Jaf. At any hour; my plagues

Will keep me waking.[exit Pierre.

Tell me why, good heaven,

Thou mad'st me, what I am, with all the spirit,

Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires,

That fill the happiest man? Ah, rather, why

Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate,

Base-minded, dull, and fit to carry burthens?

Why have I sense to know the curse that's on me?

Is this just dealing, nature?—Belvidera!

Enter Belvidera.

Poor Belvidera!

Bel. Lead me, lead me, my virgins,

To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my refuge!

Happy my eyes, when they behold thy face!

My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating

At sight of thee, and bound with sprightly joys.

Oh smile! as when our loves were in their spring,

And cheer my fainting soul.

Jaf. As when our loves

Were in their spring! Has then our fortune chang'd?

Art thou not Belvidera, still the same,

Kind, good, and tender, as my arms first found thee?

If thou art alter'd, where shall I have harbour?

Where ease my loaded heart? Oh! where complain?

Bel. Does this appear like change, or love decaying,

When thus I throw myself into thy bosom,

With all the resolution of strong truth!

Beats not my heart, as 'twould alarum thine

To a new charge of bliss?—I joy more in thee,

Than did thy mother, when she hugg'd thee first,

And bless'd the gods for all her travail past.

Jaf. Can there in woman be such glorious faith?

Sure all ill stories of thy sex are false!

Oh woman! lovely woman! nature made thee

To temper man: we had been brutes without you!

Angels are painted fair, to look like you:

There's in you all that we believe of heaven;

Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,

Eternal joy, and everlasting love.

Bel. If love be treasure, we'll be wondrous rich;

I have so much, my heart will surely break with't:

Vows can't express it. When I would declare

How great's my joy, I'm dumb with the big thought;

I swell, and sigh, and labour with my longing.

O! lead me to some desert wide and wild,

Barren as our misfortunes, where my soul

May have its vent, where I may tell aloud

To the high heavens, and ev'ry list'ning planet,

With what a boundless stock my bosom's fraught;

Where I may throw my eager arms about thee,

Give loose to love, with kisses kindling joy,

And let off all the fire that's in my heart.

Jaf. Oh, Belvidera! doubly I'm a beggar:

Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee.

Want, worldly want, that hungry, meagre fiend,

Is at my heels, and chases me in view.

Canst thou bear cold and hunger? Can these limbs,

Fram'd for the tender offices of love,

Endure the bitter gripes of smarting poverty?

When banish'd by our miseries abroad

(As suddenly we shall be) to seek out

In some far climate, where our names are strangers,

For charitable succour; wilt thou then,

When in a bed of straw we shrink together,

And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads;

Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then

Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love?

Bel. Oh! I will love thee, even in madness love thee;

Though my distracted senses should forsake me,

I'd find some intervals, when my poor heart

Should 'swage itself, and be let loose to thine.

Though the bare earth be all our resting-place,

Its roots our food, some cleft our habitation,

I'll make this arm a pillow for thine head;

And, as thou sighing ly'st, and swell'd with sorrow,

Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love

Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest;

Then praise our God, and watch thee till the morning.

Jaf. Hear this, ye heav'ns! and wonder how you made her:

Reign, reign, ye monarchs that divide the world,

Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know

Tranquillity and happiness like mine!

Like gaudy ships th' obsequious billows fall,

And rise again to lift you in your pride;

They wait but for a storm, and then devour you;

I, in my private bark already wreck'd,

Like a poor merchant driven to unknown land,

That had by chance pack'd up his choicest treasure

In one dear casket, and sav'd only that;

Since I must wander further on the shore,

Thus hug my little, but my precious store,

Resolv'd to scorn and trust my fate no more.[exeunt.

---

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.THE RIALTO.

Enter Jaffier.

Jaf. I'm here; and thus, the shades of night around me,

I look as if all hell were in my heart,

And I in hell. Nay surely 'tis so with me!—

For every step I tread, methinks some fiend

Knocks at my breast, and bids me not be quiet.

I've heard how desperate wretches, like myself,

Have wander'd out at this dead time of night,

To meet the foe of mankind in his walk.

Sure I'm so curs'd that, though of heaven forsaken,

No minister of darkness cares to tempt me.

Hell, hell! why sleep'st thou?

Enter Pierre.

Pier. Sure I've staid too long:

The clock has struck, and I may lose my proselyte.

Speak, who goes there?

Jaf. A dog, that comes to howl

At yonder moon. What's he that asks the question?

Pier. A friend to dogs, for they are honest creatures,

And ne'er betray their masters: never fawn

On any that they love not. Well met, friend:

Jaffier!

Jaf. The same.

Pier. Where's Belvidera?—

Jaf. For a day or two

I've lodg'd her privately, till I see further

What fortune will do for me. Pr'ythee, friend,

If thou wouldst have me fit to hear good counsel,

Speak not of Belvidera—

Pier. Not of her!

Jaf. Oh, no!

Pier. Not name her! May be I wish her well.

Jaf. Whom well?

Pier. Thy wife; thy lovely Belvidera.

I hope a man may wish his friend's wife well,

And no harm done?

Jaf. Y' are merry, Pierre.

Pier. I am so:

Thou shalt smile too, and Belvidera smile:

We'll all rejoice. Here's something to buy pins;

Marriage is chargeable.[gives him a purse.

Jaf. I but half wish'd

To see the devil, and he's here already. Well!

What must this buy? Rebellion, murder, treason?

Tell me, which way I must be damn'd for this.

Pier. When last we parted, we'd no qualms like these,

But entertain'd each other's thoughts like men

Whose souls were well acquainted. Is the world

Reform'd since our last meeting? What new miracles

Have happen'd? Has Priuli's heart relented?

Can he be honest?

Jaf. Kind heav'n, let heavy curses

Gall his old age; cramps, aches, rack his bones,

And bitterest disquiet wring his heart.

Oh! let him live, till life become his burden:

Let him groan under't long, linger an age

In the worst agonies and pangs of death,

And find its ease but late.

Pier. Nay, couldst thou not

As well, my friend, have stretch'd the curse to all

The senate round, as to one single villain?

Jaf. But curses stick not: could I kill with cursing,

By heaven I know not thirty heads in Venice

Should not be blasted. Senators should rot

Like dogs on dunghills. Oh! for a curse

To kill with!

Pier. Daggers! daggers are much better.

Jaf. Ha!

Pier. Daggers.

Jaf. But where are they?

Pier. Oh! a thousand

May be dispos'd of, in honest hands, in Venice.

Jaf. Thou talk'st in clouds.

Pier. But yet a heart, half wrong'd

As thine has been, would find the meaning, Jaffier.

Jaf. A thousand daggers, all in honest hands!

And have not I a friend will stick one here!

Pier. Yes, if I thought thou wert not cherish'd

T' a nobler purpose, I would be thy friend;

But thou hast better friends; friends whom thy wrongs

Have made thy friends; friends worthy to be call'd so.

I'll trust thee with a secret. There are spirits

This hour at work.—But as thou art a man,

Whom I have pick'd and chosen from the world,

Swear that thou wilt be true to what I utter;

And when I've told thee that which only gods,

And men like gods, are privy to, then swear

No chance or change shall wrest it from thy bosom.

Jaf. When thou wouldst bind me, is there need of oaths?

For thou'rt so near my heart, that thou may'st see

Its bottom, sound its strength and firmness to thee.

Is coward, fool, or villain, in my face?

If I seem none of these, I dare believe

Thou wouldst not use me in a little cause,

For I am fit for honour's toughest task,

Nor ever yet found fooling was my province;

And for a villainous, inglorious, enterprise,

I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine

Before thee, set it to what point thou wilt.

Pier. Nay, 'tis a cause thou wilt be fond of, Jaffier;

For it is founded on the noblest basis;

Our liberties, our natural inheritance.

There's no religion, no hypocrisy in't;

We'll do the business, and ne'er fast and pray for't;

Openly act a deed the world shall gaze

With wonder at, and envy when 'tis done.

Jaf. For liberty!

Pier. For liberty, my friend.

Thou shalt be freed from base Priuli's tyranny,

And thy sequester'd fortunes heal'd again:

I shall be free from those opprobrious wrongs

That press me now, and bend my spirit downward;

All Venice free, and every growing merit

Succeed to its just right: fools shall be pull'd

From wisdom's seat; those baleful, unclean birds,

Those lazy owls, who, perch'd near fortune's top,

Sit only watchful with their heavy wings

To cuff down new-fledg'd virtues, that would rise

To nobler heights, and make the grove harmonious.

Jaf. What can I do?

Pier. Canst thou not kill a senator?

Jaf. Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him.

For herding with that nest of fools and knaves.

By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge

Were to be had; and the brave story warms me.

Pier. Swear then!

Jaf. I do, by all those glittering stars,

And yon great ruling planet of the night;

By all good pow'rs above, and ill below;

By love and friendship, dearer than my life,

No pow'r or death shall make me false to thee.

Pier. Here we embrace, and I'll unlock my heart.

A council's held hard by, where the destruction

Of this great empire's hatching: there I'll lead thee.

But be a man! for thou'rt to mix with men

Fit to disturb the peace of all the world,

And rule it when it's wildest—

Jaf. I give thee thanks

For this kind warning. Yes, I'll be a man;

And charge thee, Pierre, whene'er thou seest my fears

Betray me less, to rip this heart of mine

Out of my breast, and show it for a coward's.

Come, let's be gone, for from this hour I chase

All little thoughts, all tender human follies

Out of my bosom. Vengeance shall have room:

Revenge!

Pier. And liberty!

Jaf. Revenge—revenge—[exeunt.

SCENE II. AQUILINA'S HOUSE.

Enter Renault.

Ren. Why was my choice ambition? the worst ground

A wretch can build on! It's, indeed, at distance,

A goodly prospect, tempting to the view;

The height delights us, and the mountain top

Looks beautiful, because it's nigh to heav'n.

But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundation,

What storm will batter, and what tempest shake us.

Who's there?

Enter Spinosa.

Spin. Renault, good morrow, for by this time

I think the scale of night has turn'd the balance,

And weighs up morning! Has the clock struck twelve?

Ren. Yes! clocks will go as they are set; but man,

Irregular man's ne'er constant, never certain:

I've spent at least three precious hours of darkness

In waiting dull attendance: 'tis the curse

Of diligent virtue to be mix'd, like mine,

With giddy tempers, souls but half resolv'd.

Spin. Hell seize that soul amongst us it can frighten.

Ren. What's then the cause that I am here alone?

Why are we not together?

Enter Elliott.

O, sir, welcome!

You are an Englishman: when treason's hatching,

One might have thought you'd not have been behindhand.

In what whore's lap have you been lolling?

Give but an Englishman his whore and ease,

Beef, and a sea-coal fire, he's yours for ever.

Ell. Frenchman, you are saucy.

Ren. How!

Enter Bedamar, the Ambassador; Theodore, Bramveil, Durand, Brabe, Revillido, Mezzana, Ternon, and Retrosi, Conspirators.

Bed. At difference; fie!

Is this a time for quarrels? Thieves and rogues

Fall out and brawl: should men of your high calling,

Men separated by the choice of Providence

From the gross heap of mankind, and set here

In this assembly as in one great jewel,

T' adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smil'd on;

Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles?

Ren. Boys!

Bed. Renault, thy hand.

Ren. I thought I'd given my heart

Long since to every man that mingles here;

But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers,

That can't forgive my froward age its weakness.

Bed. Elliott, thou once hadst virtue. I have seen

Thy stubborn temper bend with godlike goodness,

Not half thus courted. 'Tis thy nation's glory

To hug the foe that offers brave alliance.

Once more embrace, my friends—we'll all embrace.

United thus, we are the mighty engine

Must twist this rooted empire from its basis.

Totters not it already?

Ell. Would 'twere tumbling.

Bed. Nay, it shall down; this night we seal its ruin.

Enter Pierre.

Oh, Pierre, thou art welcome.

Come to my breast, for by its hopes thou look'st

Lovelily dreadful, and the fate of Venice

Seems on thy sword already. Oh, my Mars!

The poets that first feign'd a god of war,

Sure prophesied of thee.

Pier. Friend, was not Brutus

(I mean that Brutus, who in open senate

Stabb'd the first Cæsar that usurp'd the world),

A gallant man?

Ren. Yes, and Catiline too;

Though story wrong his fame: for he conspir'd

To prop the reeling glory of his country:

His cause was good.

Bed. And ours as much above it,

As, Renault, thou'rt superior to Cethegus,

Or Pierre to Cassius.

Pier. Then to what we aim at.

When do we start? or must we talk for ever?

Bed. No, Pierre, the deed's near birth; fate seems to have set

The business up, and given it to our care;

I hope there's not a heart or hand amongst us,

But is firm and ready.

All. All.

We'll die with Bedamar.

Bed. O men

Matchless! as will your glory be hereafter:

The game is for a matchless prize, if won;

If lost, disgraceful ruin.

Pier. Ten thousand men are armed at your nod,

Commanded all by leaders fit to guide

A battle for the freedom of the world:

This wretched state has starv'd them in its service;

And, by your bounty quicken'd, they're resolved

To serve your glory, and revenge their own:

They've all their different quarters in this city,

Watch for th' alarm, and grumble 'tis so tardy.

Bed. I doubt not, friend, but thy unwearied diligence

Has still kept waking, and it shall have ease;

After this night it is resolv'd we meet

No more, till Venice owns us for her lords.

Pier. How lovelily the Adriatic whore,

Dress'd in her flames, will shine! Devouring flames

Such as shall burn her to the watery bottom,

And hiss in her foundation.

Bed. Now if any

Amongst us, that owns this glorious cause,

Have friends or interest he'd wish to save,

Let it be told: the general doom is seal'd;

But I'd forego the hopes of a world's empire,

Rather than wound the bowels of my friend.

Pier. I must confess, you there have touch'd my weakness.

I have a friend; hear it! such a friend,

My heart was ne'er shut to him. Nay, I'll tell you:

He knows the very business of this hour;

But he rejoices in the cause, and loves it;

We've chang'd a vow to live and die together,

And he's at hand to ratify it here.

Ren. How! all betray'd!

Pier. No—I've nobly dealt with you;

I've brought my all into the public stock:

I've but one friend, and him I'll share among you:

Receive and cherish him; or if, when seen

And search'd, you find him worthless,—as my tongue

Has lodg'd this secret in his faithful breast,—

To ease your fears, I wear a dagger here

Shall rip it out again, and give you rest.

Come forth, thou only good I e'er could boast of.

Enter Jaffier, with a dagger.

Bed. His presence bears the show of manly virtue.

Jaf. I know you'll wonder all, that, thus uncall'd,

I dare approach this place of fatal councils;

But I'm amongst you, and by heav'n it glads me

To see so many virtues thus united

To restore justice, and dethrone oppression.

Command this sword, if you would have it quiet,

Into this breast; but, if you think it worthy

To cut the throats of reverend rogues in robes,

Send me into the curs'd assembled senate:

It shrinks not, though I meet a father there.

Would you behold this city flaming? here's

A hand shall bear a lighted torch at noon

To th' arsenal, and set its gates on fire.

Ren. You talk this well, sir.

Jaf. Nay—by heaven I'll do this.

Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces;

You fear me villain, and, indeed, it's odd

To hear a stranger talk thus, at first meeting,

Of matters that have been so well debated;

But I come ripe with wrongs, as you with councils.

I hate this senate, am a foe to Venice;

A friend to none, but men resolv'd like me

To push on mischief. Oh! did you but know me,

I need not talk thus!

Bed. Pierre, I must embrace him.

My heart beats to this man, as if it knew him.

Ren. I never lov'd these huggers.

Jaf. Still I see

The cause delights ye not. Your friends survey me

As I were dangerous—But I come arm'd

Against all doubts, and to your trust will give

A pledge, worth more than all the world can pay for.

My Belvidera. Hoa; my Belvidera!

Bed. What wonder's next?

Jaf. Let me entreat you,

As I have henceforth hopes to call you friends,

That all but the ambassador, and this

Grave guide of councils, with my friend that owns me,

Withdraw awhile, to spare a woman's blushes.

[exeunt all but Bedamar, Renault, Jaffier, and Pierre.

Enter Belvidera.

Bed. Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead us?

Jaf. My Belvidera! Belvidera!

Bel. Who,

Who calls so loud at this late peaceful hour?

That voice was wont to come in gentle whispers,

And fill my ears with the soft breath of love.

Thou hourly image of my thoughts, where art thou?

Jaf. Indeed 'tis late.

Bel. Alas! where am I? whither is't you lead me?

Methinks I read distraction in your face,

Something less gentle than the fate you tell me.

You shake and tremble too! your blood runs cold!

Heav'ns guard my love, and bless his heart with patience.

Jaf. That I have patience, let our fate bear witness,

Who has ordain'd it so, that thou and I

(Thou, the divinest good man e'er possess'd,

And I, the wretched'st of the race of man)

This very hour, without one tear, must part.

Bel. Part! must we part? Oh, am I then forsaken?

Why drag you from me? Whither are you going?

My dear! my life! my love!

Jaf. Oh, friends!

Bel. Speak to me.

Jaf. Take her from my heart,

She'll gain such hold else, I shall ne'er get loose.

I charge thee take her, but with tender'st care

Relieve her troubles, and assuage her sorrows.

Ren. Rise, madam, and command amongst your servants.

Jaf. To you, sirs, and your honours, I bequeath her;

[gives a dagger.

And with her this; when I prove unworthy—

You know the rest——then strike it to her heart;

And tell her, he who three whole happy years

Lay in her arms, and each kind night repeated

The passionate vows of still increasing love,

Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.

Bel. Nay, take my life, since he has sold it cheaply.

O! thou unkind one;

Never meet more! have I deserv'd this from you;

Look on me, tell me, speak, thou fair deceiver.

Why am I separated from thy love?

If I am false, accuse me; but if true,

Don't, pr'ythee don't, in poverty forsake me,

But pity the sad heart that's torn with parting.

Yet hear me, yet recall me—[ex. Ren. Bed. and Bel.

Jaf. Oh! my eyes,

Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile

Into my heart, and be wean'd altogether.

My friend, where art thou?

Pier. Here, my honour's brother.

Jaf. Is Belvidera gone?

Pier. Renault has led her

Back to her own apartment; but, by heav'n,

Thou must not see her more, till our work's over.

Jaf. No!

Pier. Not for your life.

Jaf. Oh, Pierre, wert thou but she,

How I would pull thee down into my heart,

Gaze on thee, till my eye-strings crack'd with love;

Then, swelling, sighing, raging to be blest,

Come like a panting turtle to thy breast;

On thy soft bosom hovering, bill and play,

Confess the cause why last I fled away;

Own 'twas a fault, but swear to give it o'er,

And never follow false ambition more.[exeunt.

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ACT THE THIRD.