_Ren._ Mezzana, Revillido,

Ternon, Retrosi? oh, you're men, I find,

Fit to behold your fate, and meet her summons;

To-morrow's rising sun must see you all

Decked in your honours! Are the soldiers ready?

_All._ All, all.

_Ren._[72] You, Durand, with your thousand, must possess

St. Mark's; you, captain, know your charge already;

'Tis to secure the Ducal Palace; you,

Brabe, with a hundred more, must gain the Secque;

With the like number, Brainville, to the Procurale.

Be all this done with the least tumult possible,

Till in each place you post sufficient guards:

Then sheathe your swords in every breast you meet.

_Jaff._ [_Aside._] O reverend cruelty! Damned bloody villain!

_Ren._ During this execution, Durand, you

Must, in the midst, keep your battalia fast;

And, Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon

That may command the streets; whilst Revillido,

Mezzana, Ternon, and Retrosi guard you.

This done, we'll give the general alarm,

Apply petards, and force the arsenal gates;

Then fire the city round in several places,

Or with our cannon, if it dare resist,

Batter it to ruin. But, above all, I charge you,

Shed blood enough, spare neither sex nor age,

Name nor condition; if there live a senator

After to-morrow, though the dullest rogue

That e'er said nothing, we have lost our ends;

If possible, let's kill the very name

Of senator, and bury it in blood.

_Jaff._ [_Aside._] Merciless, horrid slave!--[_Aloud._]

Ay, blood enough--

Shed blood enough, old Renault! how thou charm'st me!

_Ren._ But one thing more, and then farewell till fate

Join us again, or separate us ever:

First, let's embrace; Heaven knows who next shall thus

Wing ye together: but let's all remember

We wear no common cause upon our swords;

Let each man think that on his single virtue

Depends the good and fame of all the rest,

Eternal honour or perpetual infamy.

Let us remember, through what dreadful hazards

Propitious fortune hitherto has led us;

How often on the brink of some discovery

Have we stood tottering, yet still kept our ground

So well, the busiest searchers ne'er could follow

Those subtle tracks which puzzled all suspicion.

You droop, sir.

_Jaff._ No; with most profound attention

I've heard it all, and wonder at thy virtue.

_Ren._ Though there be yet few hours 'twixt them and ruin,

Are not the Senate lulled in full security,

Quiet and satisfied, as fools are always?

Never did so profound repose forerun

Calamity so great: nay, our good fortune

Has blinded the most piercing of mankind,

Strengthened the fearfullest, charmed the most suspectful,

Confounded the most subtle: for we live,

We live, my friends, and quickly shall our life

Prove fatal to these tyrants. Let's consider

That we destroy oppression, avarice,

A people nursed up equally with vices

And loathsome lusts, which nature most abhors,

And such as without shame she cannot suffer.

_Jaff._ O Belvidera, take me to thy arms,

And show me where's my peace, for I have lost it. [_Exit._

_Ren._ Without the least remorse, then, let's resolve

With fire and sword to exterminate these tyrants;

And when we shall behold those cursed tribunals

Stained by the tears and sufferings of the innocent,

Burning with flames, rather from Heaven than ours;

The raging, furious, and unpitying soldier

Pulling his reeking dagger from the bosoms

Of gasping wretches; death in every quarter,

With all that sad disorder can produce,

To make a spectacle of horror; then,

Then let us call to mind, my dearest friends,

That there is nothing pure upon the earth;

That the most valued things have most allays,[73]

And that in change of all those vile enormities,

Under whose weight this wretched country labours,

The means are only in our hands to cure them.

_Pier._ And may those powers above that are propitious

To gallant minds record this cause, and bless it!

_Ren._ Thus happy, thus secure of all we wish for,

Should there, my friends, be found amongst us one

False to this glorious enterprise, what fate,

What vengeance were enough for such a villain?

_Eliot._ Death here without repentance, hell hereafter.

_Ren._ Let that be my lot, if as here I stand,

Listed by fate amongst her darling sons,

Though I had one only brother, dear by all

The strictest ties of nature; though one hour

Had given us birth, one fortune fed our wants,

One only love, and that but of each other,

Still filled our minds,--could I have such a friend

Joined in this cause, and had but ground to fear

He meant foul play, may this right hand drop from me,

If I'd not hazard all my future peace,

And stab him to the heart before you. Who,

Who would do less? wouldst not thou, Pierre, the same?

_Pier._ You've singled me, sir, out for this hard question,

As if 'twere started only for my sake.

Am I the thing you fear? Here, here's my bosom,

Search it with all your swords! Am I a traitor?

_Ren._ No; but I fear your late-commended friend

Is little less. Come, sirs, 'tis now no time

To trifle with our safety. Where's this Jaffier?

_Spin._ He left the room just now in strange disorder.

_Ren._ Nay, there is danger in him: I observed him,

During the time I took for explanation.

He was transported from most deep attention

To a confusion which he could not smother;

His looks grew full of sadness and surprise,

All which betrayed a wavering spirit in him,

That laboured with reluctancy and sorrow.

What's requisite for safety must be done

With speedy execution: he remains

Yet in our power: I for my own part wear

A dagger.

_Pier._ Well.

_Ren._ And I could wish it--

_Pier._ Where?

_Ren._ Buried in his heart.

_Pier._ Away! we're yet all friends;

No more of this, 'twill breed ill blood amongst us.

_Spin._ Let us all draw our swords, and search the house,

Pull him from the dark hole where he sits brooding

O'er his cold fears, and each man kill his share of him.

_Pier._ Who talks of killing? Who's he'll shed the blood

That's dear to me? Is't you? or you? or you, sir?

What, not one speak? how you stand gaping all

On your grave oracle, your wooden god there!

Yet not a word. Then, sir--[_To_ RENAULT]--I'll tell you a secret;--

Suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue!

_Ren._ A coward! [_Handles his sword._

_Pier._ Put, put up thy sword, old man,

Thy hand shakes at it. Come, let's heal this breach,

I am too hot; we yet may all live friends.

_Spin._ Till we are safe, our friendship cannot be so.

_Pier._ Again? who's that?

_Spin._ 'Twas I.

_Theo._ And I.

_Rev._ And I.

_Eliot._ And all.

_Ren._ Who are on my side?

_Spin._ Every honest sword.

Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves.

_Pier._ One such word more, by Heaven, I'll to the Senate,

And hang ye all like dogs in clusters.

Why peep your coward swords half out their shells?

Why do you not all brandish them like mine?

You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing!

_Ren._ Go to the Senate and betray us; hasten,

Secure thy wretched life; we fear to die

Less than thou darest be honest.

_Pier._ That's rank falsehood.

Fear'st not thou death? fie! there's a knavish itch

In that salt blood, an utter foe to smarting.

Had Jaffier's wife proved kind, he had still been true.

Faugh! how that stinks!

Thou die! thou kill my friend! or thou, or thou;

Or thou, with that lean, withered, wretched face!

Away! disperse all to your several charges,

And meet to-morrow where your honour calls you;

I'll bring that man whose blood you so much thirst for,

And you shall see him venture for you fairly.

Hence, hence, I say. [_Exit_ RENAULT _angrily_.

_Spin._ I fear we've been to blame,

And done too much.

_Theo._ 'Twas too far urged against the man you loved.

_Rev._ Here, take our swords, and crush them with your feet.

_Spin._ Forgive us, gallant friend.

_Pier._ Nay, now you've found

The way to melt and cast me as you will.

I'll fetch this friend, and give him to your mercy:

Nay, he shall die, if you will take him from me;

For your repose, I'll quit my heart's jewel;

But would not have him torn away by villains

And spiteful villany.

_Spin._ No; may you both

For ever live, and fill the world with fame!

_Pier._ Now you are too kind. Whence rose all this discord?

Oh, what a dangerous precipice have we 'scaped!

How near a fall was all we had long been building!

What an eternal blot had stained our glories,

If one, the bravest and the best of men,

Had fallen a sacrifice to rash suspicion!

Butchered by those whose cause he came to cherish!

Oh, could you know him all as I have known him,

How good he is, how just, how true, how brave,

You would not leave this place till you had seen him,

Humbled yourselves before him, kissed his feet,

And gained remission for the worst of follies.

Come but to-morrow, all your doubts shall end;

And to your loves me better recommend,

That I've preserved your fame, and saved my friend. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[68] The character of Antonio is a satire upon Sir Anthony

Ashley-Cooper (b. 1621), one of the greatest Liberal statesmen of his

time, but unscrupulous, machiavellic, and shifty. Mulgrave (_Essay

on Satire_) calls him our little Machiavel; for his was the "fiery

soul which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay,

And o'er-informed the tenement of clay" (Dryden's _Absalom_). He was

first a Royalist, then a Parliamentarian, later contributed to the

Restoration; after this a Tory, and finally a Whig. He was a member

of the "Cabal" administration, and was created by Charles II. first

Baron Ashley, and then Earl of Shaftesbury. He was Lord Chancellor in

1672, and to him we owe the Habeas Corpus Act; he also contributed

materially to make our judges independent of the Crown. He persecuted

the Catholics under pretext of the Popish Plot; promoted the Exclusion

Bill against the Duke of York, afterwards James II., as a Catholic;

and advocated Monmouth's (son of Charles II. by Lucy Walters) claim to

legitimacy. In 1681 he was impeached and sent to the Tower on a charge

of high treason, but acquitted. He was, however, forced to retire to

Holland, where he died in 1683.

[69] This was precisely the age of Lord Shaftesbury. He died in the

following year.

[70] Judgest.

[71] _i.e._ Cuckold.

[72] This scene, particularly the charge of Renault, is closely

imitated from Saint-Réal.

[73] Alloys.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.--_A Public Place._

_Enter_ JAFFIER _and_ BELVIDERA.

Jaff. Where dost thou lead me?

Every step I move,

Methinks I tread upon some mangled limb

Of a racked friend. O my dear charming ruin!

Where are we wandering?

_Belv._ To eternal honour;

To do a deed shall chronicle thy name

Among the glorious legends of those few

That have saved sinking nations: thy renown

Shall be the future song of all the virgins,

Who by thy piety have been preserved

From horrid violation; every street

Shall be adorned with statues to thy honour,

And at thy feet this great inscription written,

"Remember him that propped the fall of Venice."

_Jaff._ Rather remember him who, after all

The sacred bonds of oaths and holier friendship,

In fond compassion to a woman's tears,

Forgot his manhood, virtue, truth, and honour,

To sacrifice the bosom that relieved him.

Why wilt thou damn me?

_Belv._ O inconstant man!

How will you promise! how will you deceive!

Do, return back, replace me in my bondage;

Tell all thy friends how dangerously thou lovest me;

And let thy dagger do its bloody office.

O, that kind dagger, Jaffier, how 'twill look

Stuck through my heart, drenched in my blood to the hilts!

Whilst these poor dying eyes shall with their tears

No more torment thee;--then thou wilt be free.

Or if thou think'st it nobler, let me live

Till I'm a victim to the hateful lust

Of that infernal devil, that old fiend

That's damned himself, and would undo mankind.

Last night, my love!

_Jaff._ Name, name it not again;

It shows a beastly image to my fancy,

Will wake me into madness. O, the villain

That durst approach such purity as thine

On terms so vile! Destruction, swift destruction

Fall on my coward head, and make my name

The common scorn of fools, if I forgive him!

If I forgive him! if I not revenge

With utmost rage, and most unstaying fury,

Thy suffering, dear darling of my life.

_Belv._ Delay no longer then, but to the Senate;

And tell the dismallest story ever uttered;

Tell them what bloodshed, rapines, desolations,

Have been prepared; how near's the fatal hour;

Save thy poor country, save the reverend blood

Of all its nobles, which to-morrow's dawn

Must else see shed; save the poor tender lives

Of all those little infants which the swords

Of murderers are whetting for this moment;

Think thou already hear'st their dying screams,

Think that thou seest their sad distracted mothers

Kneeling before thy feet, and begging pity,

With torn dishevelled hair and streaming eyes,

Their naked mangled breasts besmeared with blood,

And even the milk, with which their fondled babes

Softly they hushed, dropping in anguish from them:

Think thou seest this, and then consult thy heart.

_Jaff._ Oh!

_Belv._ Think, too, if thou lose this present minute,

What miseries the next day brings upon thee.

Imagine all the horrors of that night,

Murder and rapine, waste and desolation,

Confusedly ranging. Think what then may prove

My lot! The ravisher may then come safe,

And, 'midst the terror of the public ruin,

Do a damned deed; perhaps too lay a train

May catch thy life: then where will be revenge,

The dear revenge that's due to such a wrong?

_Jaff._ By all Heaven's powers, prophetic truth dwells in thee,

For every word thou speak'st strikes through my heart

Like a new light, and shows it how it has wandered;

Just what thou'st made me, take me, Belvidera,

And lead me to the place where I'm to say

This bitter lesson; where I must betray

My truth, my virtue, constancy, and friends:--

Must I betray my friend? Ah! take me quickly,

Secure me well before that thought's renewed;

If I relapse once more, all's lost for ever.

_Belv._ Hast thou a friend more dear than Belvidera?

_Jaff._ No; thou'rt my soul itself; wealth, friendship, honour,

All present joys and earnest of all future,

Are summed in thee: methinks, when in thy arms

Thus leaning on thy breast, one minute's more

Than a long thousand years of vulgar hours.

Why was such happiness not given me pure?

Why dashed with cruel wrongs, and bitter wantings?

Come, lead me forward now, like a tame lamb

To sacrifice. Thus in his fatal garlands,

Decked fine and pleased, the wanton skips and plays,

Trots by the enticing flattering priestess' side,

And, much transported with his little pride,

Forgets his dear companions of the plain;

Till, by her bound, he's on the altar lain,

Yet then too hardly bleats, such pleasure's in the pain.

_Enter_ Officer _and six_ Guards.

_Offi._ Stand; who goes there?

_Belv._ Friends.

_Jaff._ Friends, Belvidera! hide me from my friends.

By Heaven, I'd rather see the face of hell

Than meet the man I love.

_Offi._ But what friends are you?

_Belv._ Friends to the Senate and the state of Venice.

_Offi._ My orders are, to seize on all I find

At this late hour, and bring them to the Council,

Who now are sitting.

_Jaff._ Sir, you shall be obeyed.

Hold, brutes! stand off, none of your paws upon me.

Now the lot's cast, and, fate, do what thou wilt. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

SCENE II.-_The Senate House._

The Duke of VENICE, PRIULI, ANTONIO, _and eight_

_other_ Senators _discovered in session_.

_Duke._ Antony, Priuli, senators of Venice,

Speak; why are we assembled here this night?

What have you to inform us of, concerns

The state of Venice' honour, or its safety?

_Priu._ Could words express the story I've to tell you,

Fathers, these tears were useless, these sad tears

That fall from my old eyes; but there is cause

We all should weep; tear off these purple robes,

And wrap ourselves in sackcloth, sitting down

On the sad earth, and cry aloud to Heaven.

Heaven knows if yet there be an hour to come

Ere Venice be no more!

_All the Senators._ How!

_Priu._ Nay, we stand

Upon the very brink of gaping ruin.

Within this city's formed a dark conspiracy

To massacre us all, our wives and children,

Kindred and friends; our palaces and temples

To lay in ashes: nay, the hour too fixed;

The swords, for aught I know, drawn even this moment,

And the wild waste begun. From unknown hands

I had this warning: but, if we are men,

Let's not be tamely butchered, but do something

That may inform the world in after-ages

Our virtue was not ruined, though we were.

[_Voices without_] Room, room, make room for some prisoners!

_2nd Senat._ Let's raise the city.

_Enter_ Officer _and_ Guard.

_Priu._ Speak there, what disturbance?

_Offi._ Two prisoners have the guard seized in the streets,

Who say they come to inform this reverend Senate

About the present danger.

_All._ Give them entrance.--

_Enter_ JAFFIER _and_ BELVIDERA, _guarded_.

Well; who are you?

_Jaff._ A villain.

_Ant._ Short and pithy.

The man speaks well.

_Jaff._ Would every man that hears me

Would deal so honestly, and own his title!

_Duke._ 'Tis rumoured that a plot has been contrived

Against this state; that you've a share in't too.

If you're a villain, to redeem your honour,

Unfold the truth, and be restored with mercy.

_Jaff._ Think not that I, to save my life, come hither;

I know its value better; but in pity

To all those wretches whose unhappy dooms

Are fixed and sealed. You see me here before you,

The sworn and covenanted foe of Venice;

But use me as my dealings may deserve,

And I may prove a friend.

_Duke._ The slave capitulates![74]

Give him the tortures.

_Jaff._ That you dare not do;

Your fears won't let you, nor the longing itch

To hear a story which you dread the truth of,--

Truth, which the fear of smart shall ne'er get from me.

Cowards are scared with threatenings; boys are whipped

Into confessions: but a steady mind

Acts of itself, ne'er asks the body counsel.

Give him the tortures! Name but such a thing

Again, by Heaven, I'll shut these lips for ever;

Not all your racks, your engines, or your wheels

Shall force a groan away that you may guess at.

_Ant._ A bloody-minded fellow, I'll warrant; a

damned bloody-minded fellow.

_Duke._ Name your conditions.

_Jaff._ For myself full pardon,

Besides the lives of two and twenty friends [_Delivers a list._

Whose names are here enrolled: nay, let their crimes

Be ne'er so monstrous, I must have the oaths

And sacred promise of this reverend council,

That in a full assembly of the Senate

The thing I ask be ratified. Swear this,

And I'll unfold the secrets of your danger.

_All._ We'll swear.

_Duke._ Propose the oath.

_Jaff._ By all the hopes

Ye have of peace and happiness hereafter,

Swear.

_All._ We all swear.

_Jaff._ To grant me what I've asked,

Ye swear?

_All._ We swear.

_Jaff._ And as ye keep the oath,

May you and your posterity be blessed,

Or cursed for ever!

_All._ Else be cursed for ever!

_Jaff._ Then here's the list, and with it the full disclose

Of all that threatens you. Now, fate, thou'st caught me.

[_Delivers another paper._

_Ant._ Why, what a dreadful catalogue of cut-throats is here!

I'll warrant you, not one of these fellows but has a face like

a lion. I dare not so much as read their names over.

_Duke._ Give order that all diligent search be made

To seize these men; their characters are public:

The paper intimates their rendezvous

To be at the house of a famed Grecian courtesan,

Called Aquilina; see that place secured.

_Ant._ What, my Nicky Nacky, hurry durry, Nicky

Nacky in the plot?--I'll make a speech.--

Most noble senators,

What headlong apprehension drives you on,

Right noble, wise, and truly solid senators,

To violate the laws and right of nations?

The lady is a lady of renown.

'Tis true, she holds a house of fair reception,

And though I say it myself, as many more

Can say as well as I--

_2nd Senat._ My lord, long speeches

Are frivolous here, when dangers are so near us.

We all well know your interest in that lady;

The world talks loud on't.

_Ant._ Verily, I have done,

I say no more.

_Duke._ But, since he has declared

Himself concerned, pray, captain, take great caution

To treat the fair one as becomes her character,

And let her bed-chamber be searched with decency.

You, Jaffier, must with patience bear till morning

To be our prisoner.

_Jaff._ Would the chains of death

Had bound me fast ere I had known this minute!

I've done a deed will make my story hereafter

Quoted in competition with all ill ones:

The history of my wickedness shall run

Down through the low traditions of the vulgar,

And boys be taught to tell the tale of Jaffier.

_Duke._ Captain, withdraw your prisoner.

_Jaff._ Sir, if possible,

Lead me where my own thoughts themselves may lose me;

Where I may doze out what I've left of life,

Forget myself, and this day's guilt and falsehood.

Cruel remembrance, how shall I appease thee!

[_Exeunt_ JAFFIER _and_

BELVIDERA, _guarded_.

[_Voices without_] More traitors; room, room, make room there.

_Duke._ How's this! Guards!

Where are our guards? Shut up the gates; the treason's

Already at our doors.

_Enter_ Officer.

_Offi._ My lords, more traitors;

Seized in the very act of consultation;

Furnished with arms and instruments of mischief.--

Bring in the prisoners.

_Enter_ PIERRE, RENAULT, THEODORE, ELIOT,

REVILLIDO, _and other_ Conspirators, _in fetters,_

_guarded_.

_Pier._ You, my lords and fathers

(As you are pleased to call yourselves) of Venice,

If you sit here to guide the course of justice,

Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs

That have so often laboured in your service?

Are these the wreaths of triumphs ye bestow

On those that bring you conquests home, and honours?

_Duke._ Go on; you shall be heard, sir.

_Ant._ And be hanged, too, I hope.

_Pier._ Are these the trophies I've deserved for fighting

Your battles with confederated powers?

When winds and seas conspired to overthrow you,

And brought the fleets of Spain to your own harbours;

When you, great Duke, shrunk trembling in your palace,

And saw your wife, the Adriatic, ploughed,

Like a lewd whore, by bolder prows than yours,

Stepped not I forth, and taught your loose Venetians

The task of honour, and the way to greatness;

Raised you from your capitulating fears,

To stipulate the terms of sued-for peace?

And this my recompense? If I'm a traitor,

Produce my charge; or show the wretch that's base enough

And brave enough to tell me I'm a traitor.

_Duke._ Know you one Jaffier? [_All the_ Conspirators _murmur_.

_Pier._ Yes, and know his virtue.

His justice, truth, his general worth, and sufferings

From a hard father, taught me first to love him.

_Duke._ See him brought forth.

_Re-enter_ JAFFIER, _guarded_.

_Pier._ My friend too bound! nay, then,

Our fate has conquered us, and we must fall.

Why droops the man whose welfare's so much mine,

They're but one thing? These reverend tyrants, Jaffier,

Call us all traitors: art thou one, my brother?

_Jaff._ To thee I am the falsest, veriest slave

That e'er betrayed a generous, trusting friend,

And gave up honour to be sure of ruin.

All our fair hopes, which morning was to have crowned,

Has this cursed tongue o'erthrown.

_Pier._ So, then, all's over:

Venice has lost her freedom; I my life.

No more; farewell.

_Duke._ Say, will you make confession

Of your vile deeds, and trust the Senate's mercy?

_Pier._ Cursed be your Senate; cursed your constitution;

The curse of growing factions and division

Still vex your councils, shake your public safety,

And make the robes of government you wear.

Hateful to you, as these base chains to me!

_Duke._ Pardon, or death?

_Pier._ Death, honourable death!

_Ren._ Death's the best thing we ask, or you can give.

_All Conspir._ No shameful bonds, but honourable death.

_Duke._ Break up the council. Captain, guard your prisoners.

Jaffier, you're free, but these must wait for judgment.

[_Exeunt all the_ Senators.[75]

<i>Pier.</i> Come, where's my dungeon? lead me to my straw:

It will not be the first time I've lodged hard

To do your Senate service.

<i>Jaff.</i> Hold one moment.

<i>Pier.</i> Who's he disputes the judgment of the Senate?

Presumptuous rebel--on-- [<i>Strikes</i> <sc>Jaffier</sc>.

<i>Jaff.</i> By Heaven, you stir not!

I must be heard, I must have leave to speak.

Thou hast disgraced me, Pierre, by a vile blow:

Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?

But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me,

For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries;

Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,

With pity and with charity behold me;

Shut not thy heart against a friend's repentance,

But, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,

Listen with mildness to my supplications.

<i>Pier.</i> What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,

That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,

And cant'st thus vilely? Hence! I know thee not.

Dissemble and be nasty: leave me, hypocrite.

<i>Jaff.</i> Not know me, Pierre?

<i>Pier.</i> No, know thee not: what art thou?

<i>Jaff.</i> Jaffier, thy friend, thy once loved, valued friend,

Though now deservedly scorned, and used most hardly.

<i>Pier.</i> Thou Jaffier! thou my once loved, valued friend?

By Heavens, thou liest! The man so called, my friend,

Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant,

Noble in mind, and in his person lovely,

Dear to my eyes and tender to my heart:

But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward,

Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect;

All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.

Pr'ythee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,

Like something baneful, that my nature's chilled at.

<i>Jaff.</i> I have not wronged thee, by these tears I have not,

But still am honest, true, and hope, too, valiant;

My mind still full of thee: therefore still noble.

Let not thy eyes then shun me, nor thy heart

Detest me utterly: oh, look upon me,

Look back and see my sad, sincere submission!

How my heart swells, as even 'twould burst my bosom,

Fond of its goal, and labouring to be at thee!

What shall I do--what say to make thee hear me?

<i>Pier.</i> Hast thou not wronged me? dar'st thou call thyself

Jaffier, that once loved, valued friend of mine,

And swear thou hast not wronged me? Whence these chains?

Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment?

Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one?

<i>Jaff.</i> All's true, yet grant one thing, and I've done asking.

<i>Pier.</i> What's that?

<i>Jaff.</i> To take thy life on such conditions

The Council have proposed: thou and thy friends

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

<i>Pier.</i> Life! ask my life? confess! record myself

A villain, for the privilege to breathe,

And carry up and down this cursèd city

A discontented and repining spirit,

Burthensome to itself, a few years longer,

To lose it, may be, at last in a lewd quarrel

For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art!

No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,

And cannot part on better terms than now,

When only men like thee are fit to live in't.

<i>Jaff.</i> By all that's just--

<i>Pier.</i> Swear by some other powers,

For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.

<i>Jaff.</i> Then, by that hell I merit, I'll not leave thee,

Till to thyself, at least, thou'rt reconciled,

However thy resentments deal with me.

<i>Pier.</i> Not leave me!

<i>Jaff.</i> No; thou shalt not force me from thee.

Use me reproachfully, and like a slave;

Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs

On my poor head; I'll bear it all with patience,

Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty:

Lie at thy feet and kiss them, though they spurn me,

Till, wounded by my sufferings, thou relent,

And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness.

<i>Pier.</i> Art thou not--

<i>Jaff.</i> What?

<i>Pier.</i> A traitor?

<i>Jaff.</i> Yes.

<i>Pier.</i> A villain?

<i>Jaff.</i> Granted.

<i>Pier.</i> A coward, a most scandalous coward,

Spiritless, void of honour, one who has sold

Thy everlasting fame for shameless life?

<i>Jaff.</i> All, all, and more, much more: my faults are numberless.

<i>Pier.</i> And wouldst thou have me live on terms like thine?

Base as thou'rt false--

<i>Jaff.</i> No; 'tis to me that's granted.

The safety of thy life was all I aimed at,

In recompense for faith and trust so broken.

<i>Pier.</i> I scorn it more, because preserved by thee:

And as when first my foolish heart took pity

On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries,

Relieved thy wants, and raised thee from thy state

Of wretchedness in which thy fate had plunged thee,

To rank thee in my list of noble friends,

All I received in surety for thy truth

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,

Given with a worthless pledge thou since hast stolen,

So I restore it back to thee again;

Swearing by all those powers which thou hast violated,

Never from this cursed hour to hold communion,

Friendship, or interest with thee, though our years

Were to exceed those limited the world.

Take it--farewell!--for now I owe thee nothing.

<i>Jaff.</i> Say thou wilt live then.

<i>Pier.</i> For my life, dispose it

Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tired with.

<i>Jaff.</i> O Pierre!

<i>Pier.</i> No more.

<i>Jaff.</i> My eyes won't lose the sight of thee,

But languish after thine, and ache with gazing.

<i>Pier.</i> Leave me--Nay, then thus, thus I throw thee from me,

And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee!

[_Exeunt_ PIERRE _and_ Conspirators, _guarded_.

_Jaff._ Amen! he's gone, my father, friend, preserver;

And here's the portion he has left me. [_Holds the dagger up._

This dagger, well remembered; with this dagger

I gave a solemn vow of dire importance;

Parted with this and Belvidera together;--

Have a care, memory; drive that thought no farther;--

No, I'll esteem it as a friend's last legacy,

Treasure it up within this wretched bosom,

Where it may grow acquainted with my heart,

That, when they meet, they start not from each other.

So; now for thinking: a blow, called traitor, villain,

Coward, dishonourable coward, faugh!

O for a long sound sleep, and so forget it!

Down, busy devil--

_Re-enter_ BELVIDERA.

_Belv._ Whither shall I fly?

Where hide me and my miseries together?

Where's now the Roman constancy I boasted?

Sunk into trembling fears and desperation!

Not daring to look up to that dear face

Which used to smile even on my faults, but down

Bending these miserable eyes to earth,

Must move in penance, and implore much mercy.

_Jaff._ Mercy! kind Heaven has surely endless stores,

Hoarded for thee, of blessings yet untasted.

Let wretches loaded hard with guilt as I am

Bow with the weight, and groan beneath the burthen;

Creep, with a remnant of that strength they've left,

Before the footstool of that Heaven they've injured.

O Belvidera! I'm the wretchedest creature

E'er crawled on earth: now, if thou'st virtue, help me;

Take me

Into thy arms, and speak the words of peace

To my divided soul, that wars within me

And raises every sense to my confusion;

By Heaven, I'm tottering on the very brink

Of peace, and thou art all the hold I've left.

_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.

_Belv._ What has he done?

_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?--

_Belv._ Speak.

_Jaff._ Before we parted,

Ere yet his guards had led him to his prison,

Full of severest sorrows for his sufferings,

With eyes o'erflowing, and a bleeding heart,

Humbling myself almost beneath my nature,

As at his feet I kneeled, and sued for mercy,

Forgetting all our friendship, all the dearness

In which we've lived so many years together,

With a reproachful hand he dashed a blow:

He struck me, Belvidera--by Heaven, he struck me,

Buffeted, called me traitor, villain, coward.

Am I a coward? am I a villain? tell me:

Thou'rt the best judge, and madest me, if I am so.

Damnation! coward!

_Belv._ Oh! forgive him, Jaffier;

And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already,

What will they do to-morrow?

_Jaff._ Ha!

_Belv._ To-morrow;

When thou shalt see him stretched in all the agonies

Of a tormenting and a shameful death;

His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs,

Insulted o'er by a vile butchering villain;--

What will thy heart do then? Oh, sure, 'twill stream

Like my eyes now.

_Jaff._ What means thy dreadful story?

Death, and to-morrow! broken limbs and bowels!

Insulted o'er by a vile butchering villain!

By all my fears, I shall start out to madness,

With barely guessing, if the truth's hid longer.

_Belv._ The faithless senators, 'tis they've decreed it:

They say, according to our friends' request,

They shall have death, and not ignoble bondage;

Declare their promised mercy all as forfeited;

False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession,

Warrants are passed for public death to-morrow.

_Jaff._ Death! doomed to die! condemned unheard! unpleaded!

_Belv._ Nay, cruellest racks and torments are preparing,

To force confessions from their dying pangs.

Oh, do not look so terribly upon me:

How your lips shake, and all your face disordered!

What means my love?

_Jaff._ Leave me, I charge thee, leave me! strong temptations

Wake in my heart.

_Belv._ For what?

_Jaff._ No more; but leave me.

_Belv._ Why?

_Jaff._ Oh! by Heaven, I love thee with that fondness,

I would not have thee stay a moment longer

Near these cursed hands; are they not cold upon thee?

_Belv._ No, everlasting comfort's in thy arms.

[_Pulls the dagger half out of his bosom,_

_and puts it back again._

To lean thus on thy breast is softer ease

Than downy pillows decked with leaves of roses.

_Jaff._ Alas! thou think'st not of the thorns 'tis filled with;

Fly ere they gall thee: there's a lurking serpent

Ready to leap and sting thee to thy heart:

Art thou not terrified?

_Belv._ No.

_Jaff._ Call to mind

What thou hast done, and whither thou hast brought me.

_Belv._ Ha!

_Jaff._ Where's my friend? my friend, thou smiling mischief?

Nay, shrink not, now 'tis too late; thou shouldst have fled

When thy guilt first had cause; for dire revenge

Is up, and raging for my friend. He groans!

Hark how he groans! his screams are in my ears

Already! see, they've fixed him on the wheel,

And now they tear him--Murder! perjured Senate!

Murder--Oh!--hark thee, traitress, thou'st done this;

Thanks to thy tears and false-persuading love,

[_Fumbling for his dagger._

How her eyes speak! O thou bewitching creature!

Madness can't hurt thee: come, thou little trembler,

Creep even into my heart, and there lie safe;

'Tis thy own citadel--ha!--yet stand off:

Heaven must have justice, and my broken vows

Will sink me else beneath its reaching mercy;

I'll wink, and then 'tis done--

_Belv._ What means the lord

Of me, my life and love? what's in thy bosom,

Thou grasp'st at so? Nay, why am I thus treated?

[_He draws the dagger, and offers to stab her._

What wilt thou do? Ah, do not kill me, Jaffier!

Pity these panting breasts, and trembling limbs,

That used to clasp thee when thy looks were milder,[76]

That yet hang heavy on my unpurged soul,

And plunge it not into eternal darkness.

_Jaff._ No, Belvidera; when we parted last,

I gave this dagger with thee as in trust

To be thy portion, if I e'er proved false.

On such condition was my truth believed;

But now 'tis forfeited, and must be paid for.

[_Offers to stab her again._

_Belv._ Oh, mercy! [_Kneeling._

_Jaff._ Nay, no struggling.

_Belv._ Now then kill me; [_Leaps upon his neck, and kisses him._

While thus I cling about thy cruel neck,

Kiss thy revengeful lips, and die in joys

Greater than any I can guess hereafter.

_Jaff._ I am, I am a coward; witness it, Heaven;

Witness it, earth; and every being, witness!

'Tis but one blow; yet, by immortal love,

I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee.

[_Throws away the dagger, and embraces her._

The seal of Providence is sure upon thee,

And thou wert born for yet unheard-of wonders:

Oh, thou wert either born to save or damn me!

By all the power that's given thee o'er my soul,

By thy resistless tears and conquering smiles,

By the victorious love that still waits on thee,

Fly to thy cruel father, save my friend,

Or all our future quiet's lost for ever:

Fall at his feet, cling round his reverend knees;

Speak to him with thy eyes, and with thy tears

Melt his hard heart, and wake dead nature in him;

Crush him in thy arms, and torture him with thy softness;

Nor, till thy prayers are granted, set him free,

But conquer him, as thou hast vanquished me. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[74] Proposes conditions to us.

[75] In the acting copy of the play all the conspirators except Pierre

and Jaffier are led out here.

[76] Perhaps a line is lost here.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.--_Before_ PRIULI'S _house_.

_Enter_ PRIULI.

_Priu._ Why, cruel Heaven, have my unhappy days

Been lengthened to this sad one? Oh! dishonour

And deathless infamy is fallen upon me.

Was it my fault? Am I a traitor? No.

But then, my only child, my daughter wedded;

There my best blood runs foul, and a disease

Incurable has seized upon my memory,

To make it rot and stink to after ages.

Cursed be the fatal minute when I got her!

Or would that I'd been anything but man,

And raised an issue which would ne'er have wronged me!

The miserablest creatures (man excepted)

Are not the less esteemed, though their posterity

Degenerate from the virtues of their fathers;

The vilest beasts are happy in their offsprings;

While only man gets traitors, whores, and villains.

Cursed be the names, and some swift blow from fate

Lay his head deep, where mine may be forgotten!

_Enter_ BELVIDERA _in a long mourning veil_.

_Belv._ [_Aside._] He's there, my father, my inhuman father,

That, for three years, has left an only child

Exposed to all the outrages of fate

And cruel ruin--Oh!

_Priu._ What child of sorrow

Art thou, that comest thus wrapped in weeds of sadness,

And movest as if thy steps were towards a grave?

_Belv._ A wretch, who from the very top of happiness,

Am fallen into the lowest depths of misery,

And want your pitying hand to raise me up again.

_Priu._ Indeed, thou talk'st as thou hadst tasted sorrows;

Would I could help thee.

_Belv._ 'Tis greatly in your power;

The world, too, speaks you charitable; and I,

Who ne'er asked alms before, in that dear hope

Am come a-begging to you, sir.

_Priu._ For what?

_Belv._ Oh, well regard me; is this voice a strange one?

Consider, too, when beggars once pretend

A case like mine, no little will content them.

_Priu._ What wouldst thou beg for?

_Belv._ Pity and forgiveness. [_Throws up her veil._

By the kind tender names of child and father,

Hear my complaints, and take me to your love.

_Priu._ My daughter!

_Belv._ Yes, your daughter, by a mother

Virtuous and noble, faithful to your honour,

Obedient to your will, kind to your wishes,

Dear to your arms: by all the joys she gave you,

When in her blooming years she was your treasure,

Look kindly on me; in my face behold

The lineaments of hers you've kissed so often,

Pleading the cause of your poor cast-off child.

_Priu._ Thou art my daughter.

_Belv._ Yes;--and you've oft told me

With smiles of love, and chaste paternal kisses,

I'd much resemblance of my mother.

_Priu._ Oh!

Hadst thou inherited her matchless virtues,

I'd been too blest.

_Belv._ Nay, do not call to memory

My disobedience, but let pity enter

Into your heart, and quite deface the impression;

For could you think how mine's perplexed, what sadness,

Fears, and despairs distract the peace within me,

Oh! you would take me in your dear, dear arms,

Hover with strong compassion o'er your young one,

To shelter me with a protecting wing,

From the black gathered storm, that's just, just breaking.

_Priu._ Don't talk thus.

_Belv._ Yes, I must, and you must hear too.

I have a husband--

_Priu._ Damn him!

_Belv._ Oh! do not curse him;

He would not speak so hard a word towards you

On any terms, howe'er he deal with me.

_Priu._ Ha! what means my child?

_Bel._ Oh, there's but this short moment

'Twixt me and fate: yet send me not with curses

Down to my grave; afford me one kind blessing

Before we part; just take me in your arms,

And recommend me with a prayer to Heaven,

That I may die in peace; and when I'm dead--

_Priu._ How my soul's catched!

_Belv._ Lay me, I beg you, lay me

By the dear ashes of my tender mother:

She would have pitied me, had fate yet spared her.

_Priu._ By Heaven, my aching heart forebodes much mischief.

Tell me thy story, for I'm still thy father.

_Belv._ No, I'm contented,

_Priu._ Speak.

_Belv._ No matter.

_Priu._ Tell me.

By yon blest Heaven, my heart runs o'er with fondness!

_Belv._ Oh!

_Priu._ Utter it.

_Belv._ Oh, my husband, my dear husband

Carries a dagger in his once kind bosom,

To pierce the heart of your poor Belvidera.

_Priu._ Kill thee?

_Belv._ Yes, kill me. When he passed his faith

And covenant against your state and Senate,

He gave me up as hostage for his truth;

With me a dagger, and a dire commission,

Whene'er he failed, to plunge it through this bosom.

I learnt the danger, chose the hour of love

To attempt his heart, and bring it back to honour.

Great Love prevailed, and blessed me with success;

He came, confessed, betrayed his dearest friends

For promised mercy. Now they're doomed to suffer,

Galled with remembrance of what then was sworn,

If they are lost, he vows to appease the gods

With this poor life, and make my blood the atonement.

_Priu._ Heavens!

_Belv._ Think you saw what passed at our last parting;

Think you beheld him like a raging lion,

Pacing the earth, and tearing up his steps,

Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain

Of burning fury; think you saw his one hand

Fixed on my throat, whilst the extended other

Grasped a keen threatening dagger; oh! 'twas thus

We last embraced; when, trembling with revenge,

He dragged me to the ground, and at my bosom

Presented horrid death; cried out "My friends!

Where are my friends?" swore, wept, raged, threatened, loved;

For he yet loved, and that dear love preserved me

To this last trial of a father's pity.

I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought

That that dear hand should do the unfriendly office.

If I was ever then your care, now hear me;

Fly to the Senate, save the promised lives

Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.

_Priu._ Oh, my heart's comfort!

_Belv._ Will you not, my father?

Weep not, but answer me.

_Priu._ By Heaven, I will.

Not one of them but what shall be immortal.

Canst thou forgive me all my follies past?

I'll henceforth be indeed a father; never,

Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,

Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;

Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee.

Peace to thy heart! Farewell.

_Belv._ Go, and remember

'Tis Belvidera's life her father pleads for. [_Exeunt severally._

_Enter_ ANTONIO.

_Ant._ Hum, hum, hah; Signior Priuli, my lord Priuli, my lord,

my lord, my lord! How we lords love to call one another by

our titles! My lord, my lord, my lord--Pox on him! I am a

lord as well as he; and so let him fiddle. I'll warrant him

he's gone to the Senate-house, and I'll be there too, soon

enough for somebody. Odd! here's a tickling speech about the

plot; I'll prove there's a plot with a vengeance--would I had

it without book; let me see:--"Most reverend senators,--That

there is a plot, surely by this time, no man that hath eyes

or understanding in his head will presume to doubt; 'tis as

plain as the light in the cucumber"--no--hold there--cucumber

does not come in yet--"'tis as plain as the light in the sun,

or as the man in the moon, even at noon-day: it is indeed a

pumpkin-plot, which, just as it was mellow, we have gathered,

and now we have gathered it, prepared and dressed it, shall we

throw it like a pickled cucumber out at the window? no: that it

is not only a bloody, horrid, execrable, damnable and audacious

plot; but it is, as I may so say, a saucy plot; and we all

know, most reverend fathers, that what is sauce for a goose is

sauce for a gander: therefore, I say, as those blood-thirsty

ganders of the conspiracy would have destroyed us geese of the

Senate, let us make haste to destroy them; so I humbly move for

hanging." Ha, hurry durry! I think this will do; though I was

something out, at first, about the sun and the cucumber.

_Enter_ AQUILINA.

_Aquil._ Good-morrow, senator.

_Ant._ Nacky, my dear Nacky! 'morrow, Nacky! Odd! I am very

brisk, very merry, very pert, very jovial--ha-a-a-a-a--kiss me,

Nacky; how dost thou do, my little tory rory strumpet? Kiss me,

I say, hussy, kiss me.

_Aquil._ Kiss me, Nacky! hang you, sir coxcomb, hang you, sir!

_Ant._ Hayty tayty, is it so indeed? with all my heart, faith!

"Hey then up go we,"[77] faith--"hey then up go we," dum dum

derum dump. [_Sings._

_Aquil._ Signior.

_Ant._ Madonna.

_Aquil._ Do you intend to die in your bed?

_Ant._ About threescore years hence much may be done, my dear.

_Aquil._ You'll be hanged, signior.

_Ant._ Hanged, sweetheart! pr'ythee be quiet: hanged quoth-a!

that's a merry conceit, with all my heart; why, thou jokest,

Nacky; thou art given to joking, I'll swear; well, I protest,

Nacky, nay, I must protest, and will protest, that I love

joking dearly, mun. And I love thee for joking, and I'll kiss

thee for joking, and towze thee for joking; and odd, I have a

devilish mind to take thee aside about that business for joking

too; odd I have, and, "Hey then up go we," dum dum derum dump.

[_Sings._

_Aquil._ See you this, sir? [_Draws a dagger._

_Ant._ O laud, a dagger! O laud! it is naturally my aversion,

I cannot endure the sight on't; hide it, for Heaven's sake, I

cannot look that way till it be gone--hide it, hide it, oh, oh,

hide it!

_Aquil._ Yes, in your heart I'll hide it.

_Ant._ My heart! what, hide a dagger in my heart's blood?

_Aquil._ Yes, in thy heart, thy throat, thou pampered devil;

Thou'st helped to spoil my peace, and I'll have vengeance

On thy cursed life, for all the bloody Senate,

The perjured faithless Senate. Where's my lord,

My happiness, my love, my god, my hero,

Doomed by thy accursed tongue, amongst the rest,

To a shameful rack? By all the rage that's in me,

I'll be whole years in murdering thee.

_Ant._ Why, Nacky, wherefore so passionate? what have I done?

what's the matter, my dear Nacky? Am not I thy love, thy

happiness, thy lord, thy hero, thy senator, and every thing in

the world, Nacky?

_Aquil._ Thou! think'st thou, thou art fit to met my joys; To

bear the eager clasps of my embraces? Give me my Pierre, or--

_Ant._ Why, he's to be hanged, little Nacky; trussed up for

treason, and so forth, child.

_Aquil._ Thou liest; stop down thy throat that hellish sentence,

Or 'tis thy last: swear that my love shall live,

Or thou art dead.

_Ant._ Ah!

_Aquil._ Swear to recall his doom;

Swear at my feet, and tremble at my fury.

_Ant._ I do. Now if she would but kick a little bit, one kick

now; ah!

_Aquil._ Swear, or--

_Ant._ I do, by these dear fragrant foots, and little toes,

sweet as--e-e-e-e my Nacky, Nacky, Nacky.

_Aquil._ How!

_Ant._ Nothing but untie thy shoe-string a little, faith and

troth, that's all, that's all, as I hope to live, Nacky, that's

all.

_Aquil._ Nay, then--

_Ant._ Hold, hold; thy love, thy lord, thy hero Shall be

preserved and safe.

_Aquil._ Or may this poniard Rust in thy heart!

_Ant._ With all my soul.

_Aquil._ Farewell! [_Exit._

_Ant._ Adieu! Why, what a bloody-minded, inveterate, termagant

strumpet have I been plagued with! Oh, yet more! nay then, I

die, I die--I am dead already. [_Stretches himself out. Scene

closes._

[Illustration]

SCENE II.--_A Street near_ PRIULI'S _House_.

_Enter_ JAFFIER.

_Jaff._ Final destruction seize on all the world!

Bend down, ye Heavens, and, shutting round this earth,

Crush the vile globe into its first confusion;

Scorch it with elemental flames to one curst cinder,

And all us little creepers in't, called men,

Burn, burn, to nothing! but let Venice burn

Hotter than all the rest; here kindle hell

Ne'er to extinguish; and let souls hereafter

Groan here, in all those pains which mine feels now!

_Enter_ BELVIDERA.

_Belv._ My life! [_Meeting him._

_Jaff._ My plague! [_Turning from her._

_Belv._ Nay, then I see my ruin,

If I must die!

_Jaff._ No, Death's this day too busy;

Thy father's ill-timed mercy came too late.

I thank thee for thy labours though, and him too:

But all my poor, betrayed, unhappy friends

Have summons to prepare for fate's black hour;

And yet I live.

_Belv._ Then be the next my doom.

I see thou hast passed my sentence in thy heart,

And I'll no longer weep or plead against it;

But with the humblest, most obedient patience

Meet thy dear hands, and kiss them when they wound me.

Indeed I'm willing, but I beg thee do it

With some remorse; and, when thou givest the blow,

View me with eyes of a relenting love,

And show me pity, for 'twill sweeten justice.

_Jaff._ Show pity to thee?

_Belv._ Yes; and when thy hands,

Charged with my fate, come trembling to the deed,

As thou hast done a thousand thousand dear times

To this poor breast, when kinder rage has brought thee,

When our stinged hearts have leaped to meet each other,

And melting kisses sealed our lips together,

When joys have left me gasping in thy arms,

So let my death come now, and I'll not shrink from it.

_Jaff._ Nay, Belvidera, do not fear my cruelty,

Nor let the thoughts of death perplex thy fancy;

But answer me to what I shall demand,

With a firm temper and unshaken spirit.

_Belv._ I will when I've done weeping--

_Jaff._ Fie, no more on't.

How long is't since the miserable day

We wedded first?

_Belv._ Oh!

_Jaff._ Nay, keep in thy tears,

Lest they unman me too.

_Belv._ Heaven knows I cannot;

The words you utter sound so very sadly,

These streams will follow--

_Jaff._ Come, I'll kiss them dry then.

_Belv._ But was't a miserable day?

_Jaff._ A cursed one.

_Belv._ I thought it otherwise; and you've oft sworn

In the transporting hours of warmest love,

When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn you

blessed it.

_Jaff._ 'Twas a rash oath.

_Belv._ Then why am I not cursed too?

_Jaff._ No, Belvidera; by the eternal truth,

I dote with too much fondness.

_Belv._ Still so kind!

Still then do you love me?

_Jaff._ Nature, in her workings,

Inclines not with more ardour to creation,

Than I do now towards thee; man ne'er was blest,

Since the first pair first met, as I have been.

_Belv._ Then sure you will not curse me?

_Jaff._ No, I'll bless thee.

I came on purpose, Belvidera, to bless thee.

'Tis now, I think, three years we've lived together.

_Belv._ And may no fatal minute ever part us,

Till reverend grown, for age and love, we go

Down to one grave, as our last bed, together;

There sleep in peace till an eternal morning!

_Jaff._ When will that be? [_Sighing._

_Belv._ I hope long ages hence.

_Jaff._ Have I not hitherto--I beg thee tell me

Thy very fears--used thee with tenderest love?

Did e'er my soul rise up in wrath against thee?

Did I e'er frown when Belvidera smiled,

Or, by the least unfriendly word, betray

Abating passion? have I ever wronged thee?

_Belv._ No.

_Jaff._ Has my heart, or have my eyes e'er wandered

To any other woman?

_Belv._ Never, never.

I were the worst of false ones, should I accuse thee.

I own I've been too happy, blest above

My sex's charter.

_Jaff._ Did I not say I came

To bless thee?

_Belv._ Yes.

_Jaff._ Then hear me, bounteous Heaven!

Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,

Where everlasting sweets are always springing:

With a continual-giving hand, let peace,

Honour, and safety always hover round her;

Feed her with plenty; let her eyes ne'er see

A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning:

Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest

Harmless as her own thoughts, and prop her virtue

To bear the loss of one that too much loved;

And comfort her with patience in our parting!

_Belv._ How, parting, parting!

_Jaff._ Yes, for ever parting;

I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon Heaven,

That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee,

We part this hour for ever.

_Belv._ Oh, call back

Your cruel blessing; stay with me and curse me!

_Jaff._ No; 'tis resolved.

_Belv._ Then hear me too, just Heaven!

Pour down your curses on this wretched head,

With never-ceasing vengeance; let despair,

Danger or infamy, nay, all surround me.

Starve me with wantings; let my eyes ne'er see

A sight of comfort, nor my heart know peace;

But dash my days with sorrow, nights with horrors

Wild as my own thoughts now, and let loose fury

To make me mad enough for what I lose,

If I must lose him--if I must! I will not.--

Oh, turn and hear me!

_Jaff._ Now hold, heart, or never.

_Belv._ By all the tender days we have lived together,

By all our charming nights, and joys that crowned them,

Pity my sad condition; speak, but speak!

_Jaff._ Oh!

_Belv._ By these arms that now cling round thy neck,

By this dear kiss, and by ten thousand more,

By these poor streaming eyes--

_Jaff._ Murder! unhold me!

By the immortal destiny that doomed me [_Draws his dagger._

To this cursed minute, I'll not live one longer.

Resolve to let me go, or see me fall--

_Belv._ Hold, sir, be patient.

_Jaff._ Hark, the dismal bell [_Passing-bell tolls._

Tolls out for death! I must attend its call too;

For my poor friend, my dying Pierre expects me;

He sent a message to require I'd see him

Before he died, and take his last forgiveness.

Farewell for ever!

_Belv._ Leave thy dagger with me.

Bequeath me something.--Not one kiss at parting?

[JAFFIER, _going out, looks back at her_.

O my poor heart, when wilt thou break?

_Jaff._ Yet stay,

We have a child, as yet a tender infant:

Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone,

Breed him in virtue and the paths of honour,

But let him never know his father's story;

I charge thee guard him from the wrongs my fate

May do his future fortune, or his name.

Now--nearer yet! [_Approaching each other._] Oh that my arms

were rivetted

Thus round thee ever! But my friends, my oath--

This, and no more. [_Kisses her._

_Belv._ Another, sure another,

For that poor little one you've ta'en care of;

I'll give't him truly.

_Jaff._ So, now farewell.

_Belv._ For ever?

_Jaff._ Heaven knows for ever; all good angels

guard thee! [_Exit._

_Belv._ All ill ones sure had charge of me this moment.

Cursed be my days, and doubly cursed my nights,

Which I must now mourn out in widowed tears;

Blasted be every herb, and fruit, and tree;

Cursed be the rain that falls upon the earth,

And may the general curse reach man and beast!

Oh, give me daggers, fire, or water;

How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, the waves

Huzzing and booming round my sinking head,

Till I descended to the peaceful bottom!

Oh, there's all quiet, here all rage and fury;

The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain;

I long for thick substantial sleep. Hell! hell!

Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud,

If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am!

_Enter_ PRIULI _and_ Servants.

Who's there?

_Priu._ Run, seize and bring her safely home;

Guard her as you would life. Alas, poor creature!

[_They seize her._

_Belv._ What! to my husband? then conduct me quickly.

Are all things ready? shall we die most gloriously?

Say not a word of this to my old father.

Murmuring streams, soft shades, and springing flowers,

Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of amber. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

SCENE III.--_A Public Place. A scaffold and wheel in centre._

_Enter_ Officers, PIERRE, _and_ Guards, _a_ Friar,

Executioner, _and a great_ Rabble.

_Offi._ Room, room there--stand all by, make room

for the prisoner.

_Pier._ My friend not come yet?

_Friar._ Why are you so obstinate?

_Pier._ Why you so troublesome, that a poor wretch

Can't die in peace,

But you like ravens will be croaking round him?

_Friar._ Yet Heaven--

_Pier._ I tell thee Heaven and I are friends:

I ne'er broke peace with it yet, by cruel murders,

Rapine or perjury, or vile deceiving;

But lived in moral justice towards all men;

Nor am a foe to the most strong believers,

Howe'er my own short-sighted faith confine me.

_Friar._ But an all-seeing Judge--

_Pier._ You say my conscience

Must be my accuser: I have searched that conscience,

And find no records there of crimes that scare me.

_Friar._ 'Tis strange you should want faith.

_Pier._ You want to lead

My reason blindfold, like a hampered lion,

Checked of its nobler vigour; then, when baited

Down to obedient tameness, make it couch,

And show strange tricks, which you call signs of faith:

So silly souls are gulled, and you get money.

Away, no more! Captain, I'd have hereafter

This fellow write no lies of my conversion,

Because he has crept upon my troubled hours.

_Enter_ JAFFIER.

_Jaff._ Hold: eyes, be dry; heart, strengthen me to bear

This hideous sight, and humble me to take

The last forgiveness of a dying friend,

Betrayed by my vile falsehood to his ruin!

O Pierre!

_Pier._ Yet nearer.

_Jaff._ Crawling on my knees,

And prostrate on the earth, let me approach thee:

How shall I look up to thy injured face,

That always used to smile with friendship on me?

It darts an air of so much manly virtue,

That I, methinks, look little in thy sight,

And stripes are fitter for me than embraces.

_Pier._ Dear to my arms, though thou'st undone my fame,

I can't forget to love thee: pr'ythee, Jaffier,

Forgive that filthy blow my passion dealt thee;

I'm now preparing for the land of peace,

And fain would have the charitable wishes

Of all good men, like thee, to bless my journey.

_Jaff._ Good! I'm the vilest creature, worse than e'er

Suffered the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of.

Why was I sent for to be used thus kindly?

Call, call me villain, as I am; describe

The foul complexion of my hateful deeds;

Lead me to the rack, and stretch me in thy stead,

I've crimes enough to give it its full load,

And do it credit: thou wilt but spoil the use on't,

And honest men hereafter bear its figure

About them, as a charm from treacherous friendship.

_Offi._ The time grows short; your friends are dead already.

_Jaff._ Dead!

_Pier._ Yes, dead, Jaffier; they've all died like men too,

Worthy their character.

_Jaff._ And what must I do?

_Pier._ Oh, Jaffier!

_Jaff._ Speak aloud thy burthened soul,

And tell thy troubles to thy tortured friend!

_Pier._ Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend,

I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.

Heaven knows I want a friend!

_Jaff._ And I a kind one,

That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue,

Or think, when he's to die, my thoughts are idle.

_Pier._ No! live, I charge thee, Jaffier.

_Jaff._ Yes, I will live,

But it shall be to see thy fall revenged

At such a rate as Venice long shall groan for.

_Pier._ Wilt thou?

_Jaff._ I will, by Heaven!

_Pier._ Then still thou'rt noble,

And I forgive thee. Oh--yet--shall I trust thee?

_Jaff._ No; I've been false already.

_Pier._ Dost thou love me?

_Jaff._ Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings.

_Pier._ Curse on this weakness! [_He weeps._

_Jaff._ Tears! amazement! tears!

I never saw thee melted thus before;

And know there's something labouring in thy bosom

That must have vent: though I'm a villain, tell me.

_Pier._ Seest thou that engine? [_Pointing to the wheel._

_Jaff._ Why?

_Pier._ Is't fit a soldier, who has lived with honour,

Fought nations' quarrels, and been crowned with conquest,

Be exposed a common carcass on a wheel?

_Jaff._ Ha!

_Pier._ Speak! is't fitting?

_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?

_Pier._ Most certainly.

_Jaff._ I'll do it.

_Pier._ Remember.

_Offi._ Sir.

_Pier._ Come, now I'm ready.

[_He and_ JAFFIER _ascend the scaffold_.

Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour;

Keep off the rabble, that I may have room

To entertain my fate, and die with decency.

Come! [_Takes off his gown._ Executioner _prepares to bind him_.

_Friar._ Son!

_Pier._ Hence, tempter!

_Offi._ Stand off, priest!

_Pier._ I thank you, sir.

You'll think on't. [_To_ JAFFIER.

_Jaff._ 'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow.

_Pier._ Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now;--

_Jaff._ Have at thee, [Executioner _having bound him_.

Thou honest heart, then--here! [_Stabs him._] And this is well too.

[_Stabs himself._

_Friar._ Damnable deed!

_Pier._ Now thou'st indeed been faithful.

This was done nobly. We have deceived the Senate.

_Jaff._ Bravely.

_Pier._ Ha, ha, ha! Oh, oh! [_Dies._

_Jaff._ Now, ye cursed rulers,

Thus of the blood you've shed I make libation,

And sprinkle it mingling: may it rest upon you,

And all your race! Be henceforth peace a stranger

Within your walls! Let plagues and famine waste

Your generations!--O poor Belvidera!

Sir, I've a wife; bear this in safety to her,--

A token that with my dying breath I blessed her,

And the dear little infant left behind me.

I'm sick--I'm quiet-- [_Dies._

_Offi._ Bear this news to the Senate,

And guard their bodies till there's farther order:

Heaven grant I die so well! [_The Scene closes._

[Illustration]

SCENE IV.--_A Room in_ PRIULI'S _House_.

_Soft Music. Enter_ BELVIDERA _distracted, led by two_

_of her_ Women, PRIULI, _and_ Servants.

_Priu._ Strengthen her heart with patience, pitying Heaven!

_Belv._ Come, come, come, come--nay, come to bed,

Pr'ythee, my love. The winds! hark how they whistle!

And the rain beats: oh, how the weather shrinks me!

You're angry now; who cares? pish, no, indeed!

Choose then; I say you shall not go, you shall not.

Whip your ill-nature; get you gone then--oh!

[JAFFIER'S Ghost _rises_.

Are you returned? See, father, here he's come again:

Am I to blame to love him? O, thou dear one! [Ghost _sinks_.

Why do you fly me? are you angry still then?

Jaffier! where art thou? Father, why do you do thus?

Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here somewhere.

Stand off, I say! what, gone? remember it, tyrant!

I may revenge myself for this trick one day.

I'll do't--I'll do't. Renault's a nasty fellow:

Hang him, hang him, hang him!

_Enter_ Officer _and others_.

_Priu._ News--what news? [Officer _whispers_ PRIULI.

_Offi._ Most sad, sir.

Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to prevent

A shameful death, stabbed Pierre, and next himself:

Both fell together.

_Priu._ Daughter!

[_The_ Ghosts _of_ JAFFIER _and_

PIERRE _rise together, both bloody_.

_Belv._ Ha, look there!

My husband bloody, and his friend too! Murder!

Who has done this? speak to me, thou sad vision; [Ghosts _sink_.

On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Vanished!--

Here they went down. Oh, I'll dig, dig the den up.

You shan't delude me thus. Ho, Jaffier, Jaffier,

Peep up and give me but a look. I have him!

I've got him, father: oh, now how I'll smuggle him!

My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! help me!

They've hold on me, and drag me to the bottom.

Nay--now they pull so hard--farewell! [_Dies._

_Maid._ She's dead--

Breathless and dead.

_Priu._ Then guard me from the sight on't.

Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning,

Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sun

May never enter; hang it round with black;

Set up one taper that may last a day,

As long as I've to live; and there all leave me,--

Sparing no tears when you this tale relate;

But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[77] This was the burden of many songs of that period, as in the

following:

"We'll drive the doctors out of doors,

And parts whate'er they be,

We'll cry all parts and learning down,

And _heigh then up go we_."

_Collec. of Songs_, 1731.--_Thornton._

[Illustration:

EPILOGUE]

The text is done, and now for application,

And when that's ended, pass your approbation.

Though the conspiracy's prevented here,

Methinks I see another hatching there;

And there's a certain faction fain would sway,

If they had strength enough, and damn this play.

But this the author bade me boldly say:--

If any take his plainness in ill part,

He's glad on't from the bottom of his heart;

Poets in honour of the truth should write,

With the same spirit brave men for it fight;

And though against him causeless hatreds rise,

And daily where he goes of late, he spies

The scowls of sullen and revengeful eyes,

'Tis what he knows with much contempt to bear,

And serves a cause too good to let him fear.

He fears no poison from an incensed drab,

No ruffian's five-foot-sword, nor rascal's stab,

Nor any other snares of mischief laid,--

Not a Rose-alley cudgel-ambuscade,[78]

From any private cause where malice reigns,

Or general pique all blockheads have to brains:

Nothing shall daunt his pen when truth does call--

No, not the picture-mangler[79] at Guildhall.

The rebel tribe, of which that vermin's one,

Have now set forward, and their course begun;

And while that prince's figure they deface,

As they before had massacred his name,

Durst their base fears but look him in the face,

They'd use his person as they've used his fame:

A face in which such lineaments they read

Of that great martyr's, whose rich blood they shed,

That their rebellious hate they still retain,

And in his son would murder him again.

With indignation, then, let each brave heart

Rouse and unite to take his injured part;

Till Royal love and goodness call him home,[80]

And songs of triumph meet him as he come;

Till Heaven his honour and our peace restore,

And villains never wrong his virtue more.

FOOTNOTES:

[78] This refers to the attack upon Dryden in Rose Street, Covent

Garden, in December 1679--made by order of Rochester in consequence,

it is supposed, of Dryden being reputed the author of the _Essay on

Satire_. The preceding verse probably contains an allusion to the

stabbing of Mr. Scroop by Sir Thomas Armstrong, in the pit of the

Duke's Theatre, which is mentioned by Langbaine (_Dram. Poets_, p. 460).

[79] The same incident is referred to by other writers. The Duke of

York's picture had been cut from the legs downwards.

[80] The Duke was then in a sort of exile in Scotland.

[Illustration: APPENDIX.]

The following letters were first published among a collection of

_Familiar Letters by Lord Rochester and others_, &c. 8vo, 1697; and

were afterwards subjoined to an edition of Otway's Works in 1727, under

the title of "Love Letters." They have no superscription, but are

supposed to have been written to Mrs. Barry, the actress.

LETTER I.

My Tyrant!

I endure too much torment to be silent, and have endured it too long

not to make the severest complaint. I love you, I dote on you; desire

makes me mad when I am near you, and despair when I am from you. Sure,

of all miseries, love is to me the most intolerable: it haunts me in

my sleep, perplexes me when waking; every melancholy thought makes my

fears more powerful, and every delightful one makes my wishes more

unruly. In all other uneasy chances of a man's life, there is an

immediate recourse to some kind of succour or another: in wants we

apply ourselves to our friends, in sickness to physicians; but love,

the sum, the total of all misfortunes, must be endured with silence;

no friend so dear to trust with such a secret, nor remedy in art so

powerful to remove its anguish. Since the first day I saw you, I have

hardly enjoyed one hour of perfect quiet. I loved you early; and no

sooner had I beheld that soft bewitching face of yours, but I felt in

my heart the very foundation of all my peace give way: but when you

became another's I must confess that I did then rebel, had foolish

pride enough to promise myself I would in time recover my liberty: in

spite of my enslaved nature, I swore, against myself, I would not love

you; I affected a resentment, stifled my spirit, and would not let it

bend so much as once to upbraid you, each day it was my chance to see

or to be near you: with stubborn sufferance I resolved to bear, and

brave your power: nay, did it often too, successfully.

Generally with wine or conversation I diverted or appeased the demon

that possessed me; but when at night, returning to my unhappy self, to

give my heart an account why I had done it so unnatural a violence, it

was then I always paid a treble interest for the short moments of ease

which I had borrowed; then every treacherous thought rose up, and took

your part, nor left me till they had thrown me on my bed, and opened

those sluices of tears that were to run till morning. This has been for

some years my best condition: nay, time itself, that decays all things

else, has but increased and added to my longings. I tell it you, and

charge you to believe it, as you are generous (which sure you must be,

for everything, except your neglect of me, persuades me that you are

so), even at this time, though other arms have held you, and so long

trespassed on those dear joys that only were my due, I love you with

that tenderness of spirit, that purity of truth, and that sincerity of

heart, that I could sacrifice the nearest friends or interests I have

on earth, barely but to please you: if I had all the world, it should

be yours; for with it I could be but miserable, if you were not mine.

I appeal to yourself for justice, if through the whole actions of my

life I have done any one thing that might not let you see how absolute

your authority was over me. Your commands have been always sacred to

me; your smiles have always transported me, and your frowns awed me.

In short, you will quickly become to me the greatest blessing, or the

greatest curse, that ever man was doomed to. I cannot so much as look

on you without confusion; wishes and fears rise up in war within me,

and work a cursed distraction through my soul, that must, I am sure,

in time, have wretched consequences: you only can, with that healing

cordial, love, assuage and calm my torments. Pity the man then that

would be proud to die for you, and cannot live without you; and allow

him thus far to boast too, that (take out fortune from the balance)

you never were beloved or courted by a creature that had a nobler or

juster pretence to your heart than the unfortunate and (even at this

time) weeping

OTWAY.

LETTER II.

In value of your quiet, though it would be the utter ruin of my own,

I have endeavoured this day to persuade myself never more to trouble

you with a passion that has tormented me sufficiently already; and is

so much the more a torment to me, in that I perceive it is become one

to you, who are much dearer to me than myself. I have laid all the

reasons my distracted condition would let me have recourse to before

me; I have consulted my pride, whether, after a rival's possession, I

ought to ruin all my peace for a woman that another has been more blest

in, though no man ever loved as I did;--but love, victorious love!

o'erthrows all that, and tells me it is his nature never to remember;

he still looks forward from the present hour, expecting still new

dawns, new rising happiness; never looks back, never regards what is

past and left behind him, but buries and forgets it quite in the hot

fierce pursuit of joy before him. I have consulted too my very self,

and find how careless nature was in framing me; seasoned me hastily

with all the most violent inclinations and desires, but omitted the

ornaments that should make those qualities become me. I have consulted

too my lot of fortune, and find how foolishly I wish possession of what

is so precious all the world's too cheap for it; yet still I love,

still I dote on, and cheat myself, very content, because the folly

pleases me. It is pleasure to think how fair you are, though, at the

same time, worse than damnation to think how cruel. Why should you tell

me you have shut your heart up for ever? It is an argument unworthy of

yourself, sounds like reserve, and not so much sincerity as sure I may

claim even from a little of your friendship.

Can your age, your face, your eyes, and your spirit bid defiance to

that sweet power? No, you know better to what end Heaven made you;

know better how to manage youth and pleasure, than to let them die and

pall upon your hands. 'Tis me, 'tis only me you have barred your heart

against. My sufferings, my diligence, my sighs, complaints, and tears,

are of no power with your haughty nature: yet sure you might at least

vouchsafe to pity them, not shift me off with gross, thick, homespun

friendship, the common coin that passes betwixt worldly interests--must

that be my lot? Take it, ill-natured, take it; give it to him who would

waste his fortune for you; give it the man would fill your lap with

gold, court you with offers of vast rich possessions; give it the fool

that has nothing but his money to plead for him: love will have a much

nearer relation, or none. I ask for glorious happiness; you bid me

welcome to your friendship: it is like seating me at your side-table,

when I have the best pretence to your right hand at the feast. I love,

I dote, I am mad, and know no measure; nothing but extremes can give me

ease, the kindest love, or most provoking scorn.

Yet even your scorn would not perform the cure: it might indeed take

off the edge of hope, but damned despair will gnaw my heart for ever.

If then I am not odious to your eyes, if you have charity enough to

value the well-being of a man that holds you dearer than you can the

child your bowels are most fond of, by that sweet pledge of your first

softest love, I charm and here conjure you to pity the distracting

pangs of mine; pity my unquiet days and restless nights; pity the

frenzy that has half possessed my brain already, and makes me write to

you thus ravingly: the wretch in Bedlam is more at peace than I am; and

if I must never possess the heaven I wish for, my next desire is (and

the sooner the better) a clean-swept cell, a merciful keeper, and your

compassion when you find me there.

Think and be generous.

LETTER III.

Since you are going to quit the world[81] I think myself obliged, as

a member of that world, to use the best of my endeavours to divert

you from so ill-natured an inclination: therefore, by reason your

visits will take up so much of this day, I have debarred myself the

opportunity of waiting on you this afternoon, that I may take a time

you are more mistress of, and when you shall have more leisure to hear,

if it be possible for any arguments of mine to take place in a heart

I am afraid too much hardened against me. I must confess it may look

a little extraordinary for one under my circumstances to endeavour

the confirming your good opinion of the world, when it had been much

better for me, one of us had never seen it; for nature disposed me from

my creation to love, and my ill-fortune has condemned me to dote on

one who certainly could never have been deaf so long to so faithful a

passion had nature disposed her from her creation to hate anything but

me. I beg you to forgive this trifling, for I have so many thoughts of

this nature that 'tis impossible for me to take pen and ink in my hand

and keep them quiet, especially when I have the least pretence to let

you know you are the cause of the severest disquiets that ever touched

the heart of

OTWAY.

LETTER IV.

Could I see you without passion, or be absent from you without pain,

I need not beg your pardon for this renewing my vows, that I love you

more than health, or any happiness here or hereafter. Everything you

do is a new charm to me; and, though I have languished for seven long

tedious years of desire, jealously and despairing, yet every minute I

see you I still discover something new and more bewitching. Consider

how I love you; what would not I renounce or enterprise for you! I

must have you mine, or I am miserable, and nothing but knowing which

shall be the happy hour can make the rest of my life that are [is] to

come tolerable. Give me a word or two of comfort, or resolve never to

look with common goodness on me more, for I cannot bear a kind look,

and after it a cruel denial. This minute my heart aches for you; and,

if I cannot have a right in yours, I wish it would ache till I could

complain to you no longer.

Remember poor OTWAY.

LETTER V.

You cannot but be sensible that I am blind, or you would not so openly

discover what a ridiculous tool you make of me. I should be glad to

discover whose satisfaction I was sacrificed to this morning; for I

am sure your own ill-nature could not be guilty of inventing such an

injury to me, merely to try how much I could bear, were it not for

the sake of some ass that has the fortune to please you. In short,

I have made it the business of my life to do you service and please

you, if possible by any way to convince you of the unhappy love I

have for seven years toiled under; and your whole business is to pick

ill-natured conjectures out of my harmless freedom of conversation, to

vex and gall me with, as often as you are pleased to divert yourself

at the expense of my quiet. O thou tormenter! Could I think it were

jealousy, how should I humble myself to be justified! But I cannot

bear the thought of being made a property either of another man's good

fortune or the vanity of a woman that designs nothing but to plague me.

There may be means found, some time or other, to let you know your

mistaking.

LETTER VI.

You were pleased to send me word you would meet me in the Mall this

evening, and give me further satisfaction in the matter you were so

unkind to charge me with: I was there, but found you not; and therefore

beg of you, as you ever would wish yourself to be eased of the highest

torment it were possible for your nature to be sensible of, to let

me see you some time to-morrow, and send me word, by this bearer,

where, and at what hour, you will be so just as either to acquit or

condemn me; that I may, hereafter, for your sake, either bless all

your bewitching sex, or, as often as I henceforth think of you, curse

womankind for ever.

THE END.

"The excellent MERMAID SERIES."--_Spectator._

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[81] To leave the stage.

_THE MERMAID SERIES._

"I lie and dream of your full MERMAID wine."

_Master Francis Beaumont to Ben Jonson._

Now Publishing,

In Half-Crown monthly vols., post 8vo, each volume containing

500 pages and an etched fround in cloth with cut or uncut edges,

AN UNEXPURGATED EDITION OF

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UNDER THE GENERAL EDITORSHIP OF HAVELOCK ELLIS.

In the MERMAID SERIES are being issued the best plays of the

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which although often so admirable are now almost inaccessible. In

every instance the utmost pains is taken to secure the best text, the

spelling is modernised, and brief but adequate notes are supplied. In

no case do the Plays undergo any process of expurgation. It is believed

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* * * * *

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Transcriber's Notes:

Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were

corrected.

Punctuation normalized.

Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.

P. 171 moved stage direction "[_Dies._" to previous line.

Although this is at the end of 'Pol.'s' line, it seems to be

intended for Castalio.

Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.

Inverted asterism is indicated by [***].