Pier. Sure I've stayed too long:
The clock has struck, and I may lose my proselyte.
Speak, who goes there?
Jaff. 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?
Jaff. The same. O Pierre! thou'rt come in season;
I was just going to pray.
Pier. Ah, that's mechanic;
Priests make a trade on't, and yet starve by't too:
No praying; it spoils business, and time's precious.
Where's Belvidera?
Jaff. For a day or two
I've lodged her privately, till I see farther
What fortune will do with me. Pr'ythee, friend,
If thou wouldst have me fit to hear good counsel,
Speak not of Belvidera—
Pier. Speak not of her?
Jaff. Oh, no!
Pier. Nor name her? May be I wish her well.
Jaff. Whom well?
Pier. Thy wife, the lovely Belvidera;
I hope a man may wish his friend's wife well,
And no harm done!
Jaff. You're merry, Pierre!
Pier. I am so:
Thou shalt smile too, and Belvidera smile;
We'll all rejoice. Here's something to buy pins;
[Gives him a purse.
Jaff. I but half wished
To see the devil, and he's here already.
Well!—
What must this buy, rebellion, murder, treason?
Tell me which way I must be damned for this.
Pier. When last we parted, we'd no qualms like these,
But entertained each other's thoughts like men
Whose souls were well acquainted. Is the world
Reformed since our last meeting? What new miracles
Have happened? Has Priuli's heart relented?
Can he be honest?
Jaff. Kind Heaven! let heavy curses
Gall his old age; cramps, aches,[67] rack his bones;
And bitterest disquiet wring his heart;
Oh, let him live till life become his burden!
Let him groan under it 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 stretched the curse to all
The senate round, as to one single villain?
Jaff. 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; but their wives and daughters
Die of their own diseases. Oh for a curse
To kill with!
Pier. Daggers—daggers are much better!
Jaff. Ha!
Pier. Daggers.
Jaff. But where are they?
Pier. Oh, a thousand
May be disposed in honest hands in Venice.
Jaff. Thou talk'st in clouds.
Pier. But yet a heart half wronged
As thine has been would find the meaning, Jaffier.
Jaff. 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 to be cherished
To a nobler purpose, I would be that friend.
But thou hast better friends; friends whom thy wrongs
Have made thy friends; friends worthy to be called so.
I'll trust thee with a secret: there are spirits
This hour at work. But as thou art a man
Whom I have picked 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.
Jaff. When thou wouldst bind me, is there need of oaths?—
Green-sickness girls lose maidenheads with such counters—
For thou'rt so near my heart that thou mayst 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 villanous 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 it:
Openly act a deed the world shall gaze
With wonder at, and envy when 'tis done.
Jaff. For liberty?
Pier. For liberty, my friend!
Thou shalt be freed from base Priuli's tyranny,
And thy sequestered fortunes healed again;
I shall be freed 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 pulled
From wisdom's seat,—those baleful unclean birds,
Those lazy owls, who, perched near fortune's top,
Sit only watchful with their heavy wings
To cuff down new-fledged virtues, that would rise
To nobler heights, and make the grove harmonious.
Jaff. What can I do?
Pier. Canst thou not kill a senator?
Jaff. 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!
Jaff. I do, by all those glittering stars,
And yon great ruling planet of the night!
By all good powers above, and ill below!
By love and friendship, dearer than my life!
No power 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—
Jaff. I give thee thanks
For this kind warning: yes, I will 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!
Jaff. Revenge! Revenge! [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Room in Aquilina's House.
Enter Renault.
Ren. Why was my choice ambition, the worst ground
A wretch can build on? 'Tis indeed at distance
A goodly prospect, tempting to the view;
The height delights us, and the mountain-top
Looks beautiful, because 'tis nigh to Heaven;
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 turned 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 mixed, like mine,
With giddy tempers, souls but half resolved.
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 Eliot.
O sir, welcome!
You are an Englishman: when treason's hatching,
One might have thought you'd not have been behind-hand.
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.
Eliot. Frenchman, you are saucy.
Ren. How!
Enter Bedamar the Ambassador, Theodore, Brainville,
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,
To adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smiled 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. Eliot, 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 it not already?
Eliot. Would 'twere tumbling!
Bed. Nay, it shall down: this night we seal its ruin.
Enter Pierre.
O 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. O, my Mars!
The poets that first feigned a god of war,
Sure prophesied of thee.
Pier. Friends! was not Brutus—
I mean that Brutus who in open Senate
Stabbed the first Cæsar that usurped the world—
A gallant man!
Ren. Yes, and Catiline too;
Though story wrong his fame; for he conspired
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 nor hand amongst us
But is firm and ready.
All. All! We'll die with Bedamar.
Bed. Oh, men!
Matchless, as will your glory be hereafter.
The game is for a matchless prize, if won;
If lost, disgraceful ruin.
Ren. What can lose it?
The public stock's a beggar; one Venetian
Trusts not another. Look into their stores
Of general safety; empty magazines,
A tattered fleet, a murmuring unpaid army,
Bankrupt nobility, a harassed commonalty,
A factious, giddy, and divided Senate,
Is all the strength of Venice. Let's destroy it;
Let's fill their magazines with arms to awe them,
Man out their fleet, and make their trade maintain it;
Let loose the murmuring army on their masters,
To pay themselves with plunder; lop their nobles
To the base roots, whence most of them first sprung;
Enslave the rout, whom smarting will make humble;
Turn out their droning Senate, and possess
That seat of empire which our souls were framed for.
Pier. Ten thousand men are armèd at your nod,
Commanded all by leaders fit to guide
A battle for the freedom of the world;
This wretched state has starved them in its service,
And, by your bounty quickened, they're resolved
To serve your glory, and revenge their own:
They've all their different quarters in this city,
Watch for the 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 resolved we meet
No more, till Venice own us for her lords.
Pier. How lovelily the Adriatic whore,
Dressed 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
'Mongst us that owns this glorious cause
Have friends or interest he'd wish to save,
Let it be told. The general doom is sealed;
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 touched 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 changed a vow to live and die together,
And he's at hand to ratify it here.
Ren. How! all betrayed?
Pier. No! I've dealt nobly with you;
I've brought my all into the public stock;
I'd but one friend, and him I'll share amongst you!
Receive and cherish him: or if, when seen
And searched, you find him worthless, as my tongue
Has lodged 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.
Jaff. I know you'll wonder all, that thus uncalled
I dare approach this place of fatal counsels;
But I'm amongst you, and, by Heaven, 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 cursed 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 the arsenal, and set its gates on fire.
Ren. You talk this well, sir.
Jaff. Nay—by Heaven, I'll do this!
Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces;
You fear me a villain, and indeed 'tis 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 counsels;
I hate this Senate, am a foe to Venice;
A friend to none but men resolved, 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 loved these huggers.
Jaff. Still I see
The cause delights me not. Your friends survey me
As I were dangerous; but I come armed
Against all doubts, and to your trust will give
A pledge, worth more than all the world can pay for.
My Belvidera! Ho! my Belvidera!
Bed. What wonder next?
Jaff. Let me entreat you,
As I have henceforth hopes to call ye friends,
That all but the ambassador, and this
Grave guide of counsels, with my friend that owns me,
Withdraw awhile, to spare a woman's blushes.
[Exeunt all but Bedamar, Renault,
Jaffier, and Pierre.
Bed. Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead us?
Jaff. My Belvidera! Belvidera!
Enter Belvidera.
Belv. 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?
Belv. Oh! I have slept, and dreamt,
And dreamt again. Where hast thou been, thou loiterer?
Though my eyes closed, my arms have still been opened,
Stretched every way betwixt my broken slumbers,
To search if thou wert come to crown my rest;
There's no repose without thee. Oh, the day
Too soon will break, and wake us to our sorrow;
Come, come to bed, and bid thy cares good-night.
Jaff. O Belvidera! we must change the scene
In which the past delights of life were tasted:
The poor sleep little; we must learn to watch
Our labours late, and early every morning,
'Midst winter frosts, thin clad and fed with sparing,
Rise to our toils, and drudge away the day.
Belv. 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!
Heavens guard my love, and bless his heart with patience!
Jaff. That I have patience, let our fate bear witness,
Who has ordained it so, that thou and I—
Thou the divinest good man e'er possessed,
And I the wretched'st of the race of man—
This very hour, without one tear, must part.
Belv. Part! must we part? Oh! am I then forsaken?
Will my love cast me off? have my misfortunes
Offended him so highly that he'll leave me?
Why drag you from me? whither are you going?
My dear! my life! my love!
Jaff. Oh, friends!
Jaff. Take her from my heart;
She'll gain such hold else, I shall ne'er get loose.
I charge thee take her; but with tenderest care
Relieve her troubles, and assuage her sorrows.
Ren. Rise, madam, and command amongst your servants.
Jaff. To you, sirs, and your honours, I bequeath her,
And with her this: when I prove unworthy— [Gives a dagger.
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.
Belv. Nay, take my life, since he has sold it cheaply;
Or send me to some distant clime your slave,
But let it be far off, lest my complainings
Should reach his guilty ears, and shake his peace.
Jaff. No, Belvidera, I've contrived thy honour:
Trust to my faith, and be but fortune kind
To me as I preserve that faith unbroken!
When next we meet, I'll lift thee to a height
Shall gather all the gazing world about thee,
To wonder what strange virtue placed thee there.
But if we ne'er meet more—
Belv. O thou unkind one!
Never meet more! have I deserved this from you?
Look on me, tell me; speak, thou dear 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—
[Exeunt Renault, Bedamar, and
Belvidera.
Jaff. O my eyes,
Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile
Into my heart, and be weaned altogether!
My friend, where art thou?
Pier. Here, my honour's brother.
Jaff. Is Belvidera gone?
Pier. Renault has led her
Back to her own apartment: but, by Heaven!
Thou must not see her more till our work's over.
Jaff. No?
Pier. Not for your life.
Jaff. O Pierre! wert thou but she,
How I could pull thee down into my heart,
Gaze on thee till my eye-strings cracked with love,
Till all my sinews, with its fire extended,
Fixed me upon the rack of ardent longing!
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.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.—A Room in Aquilina's House.
Enter Aquilina and her Maid.
Aquil. Tell him I am gone to bed:
tell him I am not at home: tell him
I've better company with me, or
anything; tell him, in short, I will
not see him, the eternal troublesome
vexatious fool; he's worse
company than an ignorant physician.
I'll not be disturbed at these unseasonable hours.
Maid. But, madam, he's here already, just entered
the doors.
Aquil. Turn him out again, you unnecessary, useless,
giddy-brained ass! If he will not be gone, set the
house a-fire, and burn us both: I had rather meet a
toad in my dish than that old hideous animal in my
chamber to-night.
Enter Antonio.[68]
Ant. Nacky, Nacky, Nacky—how dost do, Nacky?
Hurry durry! I am come, little Nacky; past eleven
o'clock, a late hour; time in all conscience to go to
bed, Nacky—Nacky did I say? Ay, Nacky; Aquilina,
lina, lina, quilina, quilina, quilina, Aquilina, Naquilina,
Naquilina, Acky, Acky, Nacky, Nacky,
queen Nacky—come, let's to bed—you fubbs, you
pug you—you little puss—purree tuzzy—I am a
senator.
Aquil. You are a fool, I am sure.
Ant. Maybe so too, sweetheart. Never the worse
senator for all that. Come, Nacky, Nacky, let's have
a game at romp, Nacky.
Aquil. You would do well, signior, to be troublesome
here no longer, but leave me to myself; be sober,
and go home, sir.
Ant. Home, Madonna?
Aquil. Ay, home, sir. Who am I?
Ant. Madonna, as I take it, you are my—you
are—thou art my little Nicky Nacky—that's all!
Aquil. I find you are resolved to be troublesome;
and so, to make short of the matter in few words, I
hate you, detest you, loathe you, I am weary of you,
sick of you. Hang you, you are an old, silly, impertinent,
impotent, solicitous coxcomb; crazy in your
head and lazy in your body, love to be meddling with
every thing; and if you had not money, you are good
for nothing.
Ant. Good for nothing! Hurry durry, I'll try that
presently. Sixty-one years[69] old, and good for
nothing! that's brave. [To the Maid.] Come, come,
come, Mistress Fiddle-faddle, turn you out for a
season; go, turn out, I say; it is our will and pleasure
to be private some moments—out, out when you are
bid too—[Puts her out and locks the door.] Good for
nothing, you say?
Aquil. Why, what are you good for?
Ant. In the first place, madam, I am old, and
consequently very wise, very wise, Madonna, d'ye
mark that? in the second place, take notice, if you
please, that I am a senator, and when I think fit can
make speeches, Madonna. Hurry durry, I can make
a speech in the Senate-house, now and then, would
make your hair stand on end, Madonna.
Aquil. What care I for your speeches in the
Senate-house? If you would be silent here, I should
thank you.
Ant. Why, I can make speeches to thee too, my
lovely Madonna; for example [Takes out a purse of
gold, and at every pause shakes it]:—
My cruel fair one, since it is my fate
That you should with your servant angry prove,
Though late at night, I hope 'tis not too late
With this to gain reception for my love.
There's for thee, my little Nicky Nacky—take it;
here, take it—I say take it, or I'll throw it at your
head—how now, rebel!
Aquil. Truly, my illustrious senator, I must confess
your honour is at present most profoundly
eloquent indeed.
Ant. Very well: come, now let's sit down and
think upon't a little—come sit, I say—sit down by
me a little, my Nicky Nacky, hah—[Sits down]
Hurry durry—good for nothing!
Aquil. No, sir; if you please, I can know my
distance and stand.
Ant. Stand: how? Nacky up, and I down! Nay,
then let me exclaim with the poet:—
Show me a case more pitiful who can,
A standing woman, and a falling man.
Hurry durry—not sit down—see this, ye gods! You
won't sit down?
Aquil. No, sir.
Ant. Then look you, now, suppose me a bull, a
Basan-bull, the bull of bulls, or any bull. Thus up
I get, and with my brows thus bent—I broo, I say,
I broo, I broo, I broo. You won't sit down, will you?
I broo—— [Bellows like a bull, and drives her about.
Aquil. Well, sir; I must endure this. [She sits
down.] Now your honour has been a bull, pray
what beast will your worship please to be next?
Ant. Now I'll be a senator again, and thy lover,
little Nicky Nacky! [He sits by her.] Ah, toad, toad,
toad, toad! spit in my face a little, Nacky—spit in
my face, pr'ythee spit in my face, never so little:
spit but a little bit—spit, spit, spit, spit, when you
are bid, I say; do, pr'ythee spit—now, now, now
spit. What, you won't spit, will you? then I'll be
a dog.
Aquil. A dog, my lord?
Ant. Ay, a dog—and I'll give thee this t'other
purse to let me be a dog—and to use me like a dog
a little. Hurry durry—I will—here 'tis. [Gives the purse.
Aquil. Well; with all my heart. But let me
beseech your dogship to play your tricks over as fast
as you can, that you may come to stinking the
sooner, and be turned out of doors, as you deserve.
Ant. Ay, ay—no matter for that—[He gets under
the table]—that shan't move me—now, bough
waugh waugh, bough waugh! [Barks like a dog.
Aquil. Hold, hold, hold, sir, I beseech you; what
is't you do? If curs bite, they must be kicked, sir.
Do you see? kicked thus.
Ant. Ay, with all my heart: do, kick, kick on;
now I am under the table, kick again—kick harder—harder
yet. Bough waugh waugh, waugh, bough—odd,
I'll have a snap at thy shins—bough waugh
waugh, waugh, bough—odd, she kicks bravely.
Aquil. Nay then, I'll go another way to work with
you; and I think here's an instrument fit for the
purpose. [Fetches a whip and a bell.] What, bite
your mistress, sirrah! out, out of doors, you dog, to
kennel and be hanged! Bite your mistress by the
legs, you rogue! [She whips him.
Ant. Nay, pr'ythee Nacky, now thou art too
loving: hurry durry, odd, I'll be a dog no longer.
Aquil. Nay, none of your fawning and grinning:
but begone, or here's the discipline: what, bite your
mistress by the legs, you mongrel? Out of doors—hout,
hout, to kennel, sirrah! go.
Ant. This is very barbarous usage, Nacky, very
barbarous: look you, I will not go—I will not stir
from the door, that I resolve—hurry durry, what,
shut me out? [She whips him out.
Aquil. Ay; and it you come here any more to-night,
I'll have my footmen lug you, you cur! What,
bite your poor mistress Nacky, sirrah?
Enter Maid,
Maid. Heavens, madam! what's the matter?
[He howls at the door like a dog.
Aquil. Call my footmen hither presently.
Enter two Footmen.
Maid. They are here already, madam; the house
is all alarmed with a strange noise, that nobody
knows what to make of.
Aquil. Go all of you and turn that troublesome
beast in the next room out of my house; if I ever
see him within these walls again, without my leave
for his admittance, you sneaking rogues, I'll have
you poisoned all, poisoned, like rats; every corner of
the house shall stink of one of you: go, and learn
hereafter to know my pleasure. [Exeunt Footmen
and Maid.] So, now for my Pierre:
Thus when the godlike lover was displeased,
We sacrifice our fool, and he's appeased. [Exit.
SCENE II.—Another Room in the same.
Enter Belvidera.
Belv. I'm sacrificed! I'm sold! betrayed to shame!
Inevitable ruin has inclosed me!
No sooner was I to my bed repaired,
To weigh and (weeping) ponder my condition,
But the old hoary wretch, to whose false care
My peace and honour was entrusted came,
Like Tarquin, ghastly with infernal lust.
O thou Roman Lucrece!
Thou couldst find friends to vindicate thy wrong;
I never had but one, and he's proved false;
He that should guard my virtue, has betrayed it;
Left me! undone me! oh, that I could hate him!
Where shall I go? oh, whither, whither wander?
Enter Jaffier.
Jaff. Can Belvidera want a resting-place,
When these poor arms are open to receive her?
Oh, 'tis in vain to struggle with desires
Strong as my love to thee; for every moment
I'm from thy sight, the heart within my bosom
Moans like a tender infant in its cradle,
Whose nurse had left it: come, and with the songs
Of gentle love, persuade it to its peace.
Belv. I fear the stubborn wanderer will not own me;
'Tis grown a rebel to be ruled no longer,
Scorns the indulgent bosom that first lulled it;
And, like a disobedient child, disdains
The soft authority of Belvidera.
Jaff. There was a time—
Belv. Yes, yes, there was a time
When Belvidera's tears, her cries, and sorrows,
Were not despised; when if she chanced to sigh,
Or look but sad—there was indeed a time
When Jaffier would have ta'en her in his arms,
Eased her declining head upon his breast,
And never left her till he found the cause.
But let her now weep seas,
Cry till she rend the earth, sigh till she burst
Her heart asunder; still he bears it all,
Deaf as the wind, and as the rocks unshaken.
Jaff. Have I been deaf? am I that rock unmoved,
Against whose root tears beat, and sighs are sent
In vain? have I beheld thy sorrows calmly?
Witness against me, Heavens, have I done this?
Then bear me in a whirlwind back again,
And let that angry dear one ne'er forgive me!
Oh, thou too rashly censurest[70] of my love!
Couldst thou but think how I have spent this night,
Dark and alone, no pillow to my head,
Rest in my eyes, nor quiet in my heart,
Thou wouldst not, Belvidera, sure thou wouldst not
Talk to me thus; but like a pitying angel,
Spreading thy wings, come settle on my breast,
And hatch warm comfort there, ere sorrows freeze it.
Belv. Why then, poor mourner, in what baleful corner
Hast thou been talking with that witch the Night?
On what cold stone hast thou been stretched along,
Gathering the grumbling winds about thy head,
To mix with theirs the accents of thy woes?
Oh, now I find the cause my love forsakes me!
I am no longer fit to bear a share
In his concernments: my weak female virtue
Must not be trusted; 'tis too frail and tender.
Jaff. O Portia! Portia! what a soul was thine!
Belv. That Portia was a woman; and when Brutus,
Big with the fate of Rome—Heaven guard thy safety!—
Concealed from her the labours of his mind,
She let him see her blood was great as his,
Flowed from a spring as noble, and a heart
Fit to partake his troubles as his love.
Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower
Thou gavest last night in parting with me; strike it
Here to my heart; and as the blood flows from it,
Judge if it run not pure as Cato's daughter's.
Jaff. Thou art too good, and I indeed unworthy,
Unworthy so much virtue: teach me how
I may deserve such matchless love as thine,
And see with what attention I'll obey thee.
Belv. Do not despise me: that's the all I ask.
Jaff. Despise thee! hear me—
Belv. Oh, thy charming tongue
Is but too well acquainted with my weakness;
Knows, let it name but love, my melting heart
Dissolves within my breast; till with closed eyes
I reel into thy arms, and all's forgotten.
Jaff. What shall I do?
Belv. Tell me—be just, and tell me,
Why dwells that busy cloud upon thy face?
Why am I made a stranger? why that sigh,
And I not know the cause? why when the world
Is wrapped in rest, why chooses then my love
To wander up and down in horrid darkness,
Loathing his bed, and these desiring arms?
Why are these eyes blood-shot with tedious watching?
Why starts he now, and looks as if he wished
His fate were finished? Tell me, ease my fear,
Lest, when we next time meet, I want the power
To search into the sickness of thy mind,
But talk as wildly then as thou look'st now.
Jaff. O Belvidera!
Belv. Why was I last night
Delivered to a villain?
Jaff. Ha, a villain!
Belv. Yes! to a villain! Why at such an hour
Meets that assembly, all made up of wretches
That look as hell had drawn them into league?
Why, I in this hand, and in that a dagger,
Was I delivered with such dreadful ceremonies?—
"To you, sirs, and your honour, I bequeath her,
And with her this: whene'er I prove unworthy—
You know the rest—then strike it to her heart!"
Oh! why's that "rest" concealed from me? Must I
Be made the hostage of a hellish trust?—
For such I know I am; that's all my value!
But by the love and loyalty I owe thee,
I'll free thee from the bondage of these slaves;
Straight to the Senate, tell them all I know,
All that I think, all that my fears inform me!
Jaff. Is this the Roman virtue? this the blood
That boasts its purity with Cato's daughter?
Would she have e'er betrayed her Brutus?
Belv. No;
For Brutus trusted her: wert thou so kind,
What would not Belvidera suffer for thee?
Jaff. I shall undo myself, and tell thee all.
Belv. Look not upon me as I am a woman,
But as a bone, thy wife, thy friend, who long
Has had admission to thy heart, and there
Studied the virtues of thy gallant nature:
Thy constancy, thy courage, and thy truth,
Have been my daily lesson; I have learnt them,
Am bold as thou, can suffer or despise
The worst of fates for thee; and with thee share them.
Jaff. Oh, you divinest powers! look down and hear
My prayers! instruct me to reward this virtue!
Yet think a little, ere thou tempt me further;
Think I've a tale to tell will shake thy nature,
Melt all this boasted constancy thou talk'st of,
Into vile tears and despicable sorrows:
Then if thou shouldst betray me!
Belv. Shall I swear?
Jaff. No; do not swear,—I would not violate
Thy tender nature with so rude a bond,—
But as thou hopest to see me live my days,
And love thee long, lock this within thy breast:—
I've bound myself by all the strictest sacraments,
Divine and human—
Belv. Speak!
Jaff. To kill thy father.
Belv. My father!
Jaff. Nay, the throats of the whole Senate
Shall bleed, my Belvidera: he amongst us
That spares his father, brother, or his friend,
Is damned. How rich and beauteous will the face
Of ruin look, when these wide streets run blood,
I and the glorious partners of my fortune
Shouting, and striding o'er the prostrate dead,
Still to new waste; whilst thou, far off in safety
Smiling, shall see the wonders of our daring;
And when night comes, with praise and love receive me!
Jaff. Have a care, and shrink not, even in thought!
For if thou dost—
Belv. I know it, thou wilt kill me.
Do, strike thy sword into this bosom: lay me
Dead on the earth, and then thou wilt be safe.
Murder my father! though his cruel nature
Has persecuted me to my undoing,
Driven me to basest wants, can I behold him,
With smiles of vengeance, butchered in his age?
The sacred fountain of my life destroyed?
And canst thou shed the blood that gave me being?
Nay, be a traitor too, and sell thy country?
Can thy great heart descend so vilely low,
Mix with hired slaves, bravos, and common stabbers,
Nose-slitters, alley-lurking villains—join
With such a crew, and take a ruffian's wages,
To cut the throats of wretches as they sleep?
Jaff. Thou wrong'st me, Belvidera! I've engaged
With men of souls, fit to reform the ills
Of all mankind: there's not a heart amongst them,
But's stout as death, yet honest as the nature
Of man first made, ere fraud and vice were fashions.
Belv. What's he to whose cursed hands last night thou gavest me?
Was that well done? Oh! I could tell a story
Would rouse thy lion-heart out of its den,
And make it rage with terrifying fury.
Jaff. Speak on, I charge thee!
Belv. O my love! if e'er
Thy Belvidera's peace deserved thy care,
Remove me from this place—last night, last night!
Jaff. Distract me not, but give me all the truth.
Belv. No sooner wert thou gone, and I alone,
Left in the power of that old son of mischief;
No sooner was I lain on my sad bed,
But that vile wretch approached me, loose, unbuttoned,
Ready for violation: then my heart
Throbbed with its fears: oh, how I wept and sighed,
And shrunk and trembled, wished in vain for him
That should protect me! Thou, alas! wert gone.
Jaff. Patience, sweet Heaven! till I make vengeance sure.
Belv. He drew the hideous dagger forth thou gavest him,
And with upbraiding smiles, he said, "Behold it;
This is the pledge of a false husband's love":
And in my arms then pressed, and would have clasped me;
But with my cries I scared his coward-heart,
Till he withdrew, and muttered vows to hell.
These are thy friends! with these thy life, thy honour,
Thy love, all's staked, and all will go to ruin!
Jaff. No more: I charge thee keep this secret close;
Clear up thy sorrows, look as if thy wrongs
Were all forgot, and treat him like a friend,
As no complaint were made. No more; retire,
Retire, my life, and doubt not of my honour;
I'll heal its failings and deserve thy love.
Belv. Oh, should I part with thee, I fear thou wilt
In anger leave me, and return no more.
Jaff. Return no more! I would not live without thee
Another night, to purchase the creation.
Belv. When shall we meet again?
Jaff. Anon, at twelve:
I'll steal myself to thy expecting arms,
Come like a travelled dove, and bring thee peace.
Belv. Indeed?
Jaff. By all our loves!
Belv. 'Tis hard to part:
But sure no falsehood ever looked so fairly.
Farewell—remember twelve. [Exit.
Jaff. Let Heaven forget me
When I remember not thy truth, thy love.
How cursed is my condition! tossed and justled
From every corner; fortune's common fool,
The jest of rogues, an instrumental ass
For villains to lay loads of shame upon,
And drive about just for their ease and scorn.
Enter Pierre.