FOR THE EXECUTION OF PIERRE.
_Enter Officer, Pierre, Guards, Executioner, &c._
_Pier._ My friend not come yet?
_Enter Jaffier._
_Jaf._ Oh, Pierre!
_Pier._ Yet nearer.
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.
_Jaf._ Good! I am the vilest creature, worse than e'er
Suffer'd the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of.
_Offi._ The time grows short, your friends are dead already.
_Jaf._ Dead!
_Pier._ Yes, dead, Jaffier; they've all died like men too,
Worthy their character.
_Jaf._ And what must I do?
_Pier._ Oh, Jaffier!
_Jaf._ Speak aloud thy burthen'd soul,
And tell thy troubles to thy tortur'd friend.
_Pier._ Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend,
I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.
Heav'n knows I want a friend.
_Jaf._ 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.
_Jaf._ Yes, I will live:
But it shall be to see thy fall reveng'd
At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for.
_Pier._ Wilt thou?
_Jaf._ I will, by heav'n.
_Pier._ Then still thou'rt noble,
And I forgive thee. Oh!--yet--shall I trust thee?
_Jaf._ No; I've been false already.
_Pier._ Dost thou love me?
_Jaf._ Rip up my heart, and satisfy my doubtings.
_Pier._ Curse on this weakness! [_weeps._
_Jaf._ 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._ See'st thou that engine? [_points to wheel._
_Jaf._ Why?
_Pier._ Is't fit a soldier, who has liv'd with honour,
Fought nation's quarrels, and been crown'd with conquest,
Be expos'd a common carcass on a wheel?
_Jaf._ Ha!
_Pier._ Speak! is't fitting?
_Jaf._ Fitting!
_Pier._ Yes; is't fitting?
_Jaf._ 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.
_Jaf._ 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
T' appease thee---- [_going away, Pierre holds him._
_Pier._ No--this--no more. [_whispers Jaffier._
_Jaf._ Ha! is't then so?
_Pier._ Most certainly.
_Jaf._ I'll do it.
_Pier._ Remember!
_Offi._ Sir.
_Pier._ Come, now I'm ready. [_he & Jaf. ascend scaff._
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._
You'll think on't. [_to Jaffier._
_Jaf._ 'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow.
_Pier._ Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now--
[_Executioner having bound him._
_Jaf._ Have at thee,
Thou honest heart, then--here-- [_stabs him._
And this is well. [_stabs himself._
_Pier._ Now thou hast indeed been faithful.
This was done nobly--We've deceiv'd the senate.
_Jaf._ Bravely.
_Pier._ Ha, ha, ha----oh! oh! [_dies._
_Jaf._ Now, ye curs'd rulers,
Thus of the blood y' have 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 generation--Oh, poor Belvidera!
Sir, I have a wife, bear this in safety to her;
A token that with my dying breath I bless'd her,
And the dear little infant left behind me.
I'm sick--I'm quiet. [_dies; scene shuts upon them._