No More Learning

_ You stole her from me; like a thief you stole her,
At dead of night, that cursèd hour you chose
To rifle me of all my heart held dear.
May all your joys in her prove false like mine!
A sterile fortune, and a barren bed,
Attend you both! continual discord make
Your days and nights bitter and grievous! still
May the hard hand of a vexatious need
Oppress and grind you, till at last you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion!

_Jaff. _ Half of your curse you have bestowed in vain;
Heaven has already crowned our faithful loves
With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty:
May he live to prove more gentle than his grandsire,
And happier than his father!

_Priu. _ Rather live
To bait thee for his bread, and din your ears
With hungry cries; whilst his unhappy mother
Sits down and weeps in bitterness of want.

_Jaff. _ You talk as if 'twould please you.

_Priu. _ 'Twould, by Heaven!
Once she was dear indeed; the drops that fell
From my sad heart when she forgot her duty,
The fountain of my life, were not so precious!
But she is gone, and if I am a man
I will forget her.

_Jaff. _ Would I were in my grave!

_Priu. _ And she too with thee;
For, living here, you're but my curst remembrancers
I once was happy.

_Jaff. _ You use me thus, because you know my soul
Is fond of Belvidera: you perceive
My life feeds on her, therefore thus you treat me.
Oh! could my soul ever have known satiety,
Were I that thief, the doer of such wrongs
As you upbraid me with, what hinders me,
But I might send her back to you with contumely,
And court my fortune where she would be kinder?

_Priu. _ You dare not do't.

_Jaff. _ Indeed, my lord, I dare not.
My heart, that awes me, is too much my master:
Three years are past since first our vows were plighted,
During which time, the world must bear me witness,
I've treated Belvidera like your daughter,
The daughter of a senator of Venice:
Distinction, place, attendance, and observance,
Due to her birth, she always has commanded;
Out of my little fortune I have done this,
Because (though hopeless e'er to win your nature)
The world might see I loved her for herself,
Not as the heiress of the great Priuli--

_Priu. _ No more!

_Jaff. _ Yes, all! and then adieu for ever.
There's not a wretch that lives on common charity
But's happier than me: for I have known
The luscious sweets of plenty; every night
Have slept with soft content about my head,
And never waked but to a joyful morning;
Yet now must fall, like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom 'scaped, yet's withered in the ripening.

_Priu. _ Home, and be humble, study to retrench;
Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,
Those pageants of thy folly;
Reduce the glittering trappings of thy wife
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state;
Then to some suburb-cottage both retire;
Drudge, to feed loathsome life; get brats, and starve.
Home, home, I say. [_Exit. _

_Jaff_. Yes, if my heart would let me--
This proud, this swelling heart: home I would go,
But that my doors are hateful to mine eyes,
Filled and dammed up with gaping creditors,
Watchful as fowlers when their game will spring;
I have now not fifty ducats in the world,
Yet still I am in love, and pleased with ruin.
O, Belvidera! oh! she is my wife--
And we will bear our wayward fate together,
But ne'er know comfort more.

_Enter_ PIERRE.

_Pier_. My friend, good-morrow!
How fares the honest partner of my heart?
What, melancholy! not a word to spare me?

_Jaff_. I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damned starving quality
Called honesty got footing in the world.

_Pier_. Why, powerful villany first set it up,
For its own ease and safety: honest men
Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves
Repose and fatten. Were all mankind villains,
They'd starve each other; lawyers would want practice,
Cut-throats rewards; each man would kill his brother
Himself, none would be paid or hanged for murder.
Honesty was a cheat invented first
To bind the hands of bold deserving rogues,
That fools and cowards might sit safe in power,
And lord it uncontrolled above their betters.

_Jaff_. Then honesty's but a notion?

_Pier_. Nothing else:
Like wit, much talked of, not to be defined,
He that pretends to most, too, has least share in't;
'Tis a ragged virtue: honesty! no more on't.

_Jaff. _ Sure thou art honest?

_Pier. _ So indeed men think me;
But they're mistaken, Jaffier: I am a rogue
As well as they;
A fine, gay, bold-faced villain, as thou seest me:
'Tis true, I pay my debts when they're contracted;
I steal from no man; would not cut a throat
To gain admission to a great man's purse,
Or a whore's bed; I'd not betray my friend,
To get his place or fortune: I scorn to flatter
A blown-up fool above, or crush the wretch
Beneath me. --
Yet, Jaffier, for all this, I am a villain.

_Jaff. _ A villain!

_Pier. _ Yes, a most notorious villain:
To see the sufferings of my fellow-creatures,
And own myself a man; to see our senators
Cheat the deluded people with a show
Of liberty, which yet they ne'er must taste of.
They say, by them our hands are free from fetters,
Yet whom they please they lay in basest bonds;
Bring whom they please to infamy and sorrow;
Drive us like wrecks down the rough tide of power,
Whilst no hold's left to save us from destruction:
All that bear this are villains, and I one,
Not to rouse up at the great call of nature,
And check the growth of these domestic spoilers,
That make us slaves, and tell us 'tis our charter.

_Jaff. _ O Aquilina! friend, to lose such beauty,
The dearest purchase of thy noble labours!
She was thy right by conquest, as by love.

_Pier. _ O Jaffier! I'd so fixed my heart upon her,
That wheresoe'er I framed a scheme of life
For time to come, she was my only joy,
With which I wished to sweeten future cares;
I fancied pleasures, none but one that loves
And dotes as I did can imagine like them:
When in the extremity of all these hopes,
In the most charming hour of expectation,
Then when our eager wishes soar the highest,
Ready to stoop and grasp the lovely game,
A haggard owl, a worthless kite of prey,
With his foul wings sailed in, and spoiled my quarry.

_Jaff. _ I know the wretch, and scorn him as thou hat'st him.

_Pier. _ Curse on the common good that's so protected,
Where every slave that heaps up wealth enough
To do much wrong becomes a lord of right!
I, who believed no ill could e'er come near me,
Found in the embraces of my Aquilina
A wretched, old, but itching senator;
A wealthy fool, that had bought out my title;
A rogue, that uses beauty like a lamb-skin,
Barely to keep him warm: that filthy cuckoo, too,
Was in my absence crept into my nest,
And spoiling all my brood of noble pleasure.

_Jaff. _ Didst thou not chase him thence?

_Pier. _ I did; and drove
The rank, old, bearded Hirco stinking home:
The matter was complained of in the senate,
I summoned to appear, and censured basely,
For violating something they call privilege.
This was the recompense of all my service;
Would I'd been rather beaten by a coward!
A soldier's mistress, Jaffier, 's his religion;
When that's profaned, all other ties are broken;
That even dissolves all former bonds of service,
And from that hour I think myself as free
To be the foe as e'er the friend of Venice--
Nay, dear Revenge! whene'er thou call'st I'm ready.

_Jaff. _ I think no safety can be here for virtue,
And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live
In such a wretched state as this of Venice,
Where all agree to spoil the public good,
And villains fatten with the brave man's labours.

_Pier. _ We've neither safety, unity, nor peace,
For the foundation's lost of common good;
Justice is lame as well as blind amongst us;
The laws (corrupted to their ends that make them)
Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny,
That every day starts up to enslave us deeper:
Now could this glorious cause but find out friends
To do it right--O Jaffier! then mightst thou
Not wear these seals of woe upon thy face:
The proud Priuli should be taught humanity,
And learn to value such a son as thou art.
I dare not speak; but my heart bleeds this moment!

_Jaff. _ Curst be the cause, though I thy friend be part on't!
Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom,
For I am used to misery, and perhaps
May find a way to sweeten it to thy spirit.

_Pier. _ Too soon it will reach thy knowledge--

_Jaff. _ Then from thee
Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship
Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing,
Strengthen my constancy, and welcome ruin.

_Pier. _ Then thou art ruined!

_Jaff. _ That I long since knew;
I and ill fortune have been long acquainted.

_Pier. _ I passed this very moment by thy doors,
And found them guarded by a troop of villains;
The sons of public rapine were destroying:
They told me, by the sentence of the law
They had commission to seize all thy fortune:
Nay, more; Priuli's cruel hand hath signed it.
Here stood a ruffian, with a horrid face,
Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate,
Tumbled into a heap for public sale:
There was another making villanous jests
At thy undoing; he had ta'en possession
Of all thy ancient most domestic ornaments,
Rich hangings, intermixed and wrought with gold;
The very bed which on thy wedding-night
Received thee to the arms of Belvidera,
The scene of all thy joys, was violated
By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon-villains,
And thrown amongst the common lumber.

_Jaff. _ Now, thank Heaven--

_Pier. _ Thank Heaven! for what?

_Jaff. _ That I'm not worth a ducat.

_Pier. _ Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of Venice,
Where brothers, friends, and fathers, all are false;
Where there's no trust, no truth; where innocence
Stoops under vile oppression, and vice lords it.
Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how at last
Thy beauteous Belvidera, like a wretch
That's doomed to banishment, came weeping forth,
Shining through tears, like April-suns in showers,
That labour to o'ercome the cloud that loads 'em,
Whilst two young virgins, on whose arms she leaned,
Kindly looked up, and at her grief grew sad,
As if they catched the sorrows that fell from her!
Even the lewd rabble that were gathered round
To see the sight, stood mute when they beheld her;
Governed their roaring throats, and grumbled pity:
I could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased me.

_Jaff. _ I thank thee for this story, from my soul,
Since now I know the worst that can befall me.
Ah, Pierre! I have a heart that could have borne
The roughest wrong my fortune could have done me;
But when I think what Belvidera feels,
The bitterness her tender spirit tastes of,
I own myself a coward: bear my weakness,
If, throwing thus my arms about thy neck,
I play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom.
Oh, I shall drown thee with my sorrows!

_Pier. _ Burn!
First burn, and level Venice to thy ruin.
What, starve like beggars' brats in frosty weather,
Under a hedge, and whine ourselves to death!
Thou, or thy cause, shall never want assistance,
Whilst I have blood or fortune fit to serve thee.
Command my heart: thou'rt every way its master.

_Jaff. _ No; there's a secret pride in bravely dying.

_Pier. _ Rats die in holes and corners, dogs run mad;
Man knows a braver remedy for sorrow:
Revenge! the attribute of gods; they stamped it
With their great image on our natures. Die!
Consider well the cause that calls upon thee,
And, if thou'rt base enough, die then. Remember
Thy Belvidera suffers; Belvidera!
Die! --damn first! --what! be decently interred
In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust
With stinking rogues that rot in dirty winding-sheets,
Surfeit-slain fools, the common dung of the soil?

_Jaff. _ Oh!

_Pier. _ Well said, out with it, swear a little--

_Jaff. _ Swear!
By sea and air, by earth, by Heaven and hell,
I will revenge my Belvidera's tears!
Hark thee, my friend: Priuli--is--a senator!

_Pier. _ A dog!

_Jaff. _ Agreed.

_Pier. _ Shoot him.

_Jaff. _ With all my heart.
No more. Where shall we meet at night?

_Pier. _ I'll tell thee;
On the Rialto every night at twelve
I take my evening's walk of meditation:
There we will meet, and talk of precious mischief.

_Jaff_. Farewell.

_Pier_. At twelve.

_Jaff_. At any hour: my plagues
Will keep me waking. -- [_Exit_ PIERRE.
Tell me why, good Heaven,
Thou madest me what I am, with all the spirit,
Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires,
That fill the happiest man? Ah! rather why
Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate,
Base-minded, dull, and fit to carry burdens?
Why have I sense to know the curse that's on me?
Is this just dealing, Nature? --Belvidera!

_Enter_ BELVIDERA, _attended_.

Poor Belvidera!

_Belv_. Lead me, lead me, my virgins,
To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my refuge!
Happy my eyes, when they behold thy face:
My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating
At sight of thee, and bound with sprightful joys.
Oh, smile, as when our loves were in their spring,
And cheer my fainting soul.

_Jaff_. As when our loves
Were in their spring? has then my fortune changed?
Art thou not Belvidera, still the same,
Kind, good, and tender, as my arms first found thee?
If thou art altered, where shall I have harbour?
Where ease my loaded heart? oh! where complain?

_Belv_. Does this appear like change, or love decaying
When thus I throw myself into thy bosom,
With all the resolution of strong truth?
Beats not my heart, as 'twould alarum thine
To a new charge of bliss? I joy more in thee
Than did thy mother when she hugged thee first,
And blessed the gods for all her travail past.

_Jaff. _ Can there in woman be such glorious faith?
Sure all ill stories of thy sex are false.
O woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee
To temper man: we had been brutes without you;
Angels are painted fair, to look like you:
There's in you all that we believe of Heaven,
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,
Eternal joy, and everlasting love.

_Belv. _ If love be treasure, we'll be wondrous rich:
I have so much, my heart will surely break with't;
Vows can't express it: when I would declare
How great's my joy, I'm dumb with the big thought;
I swell, and sigh, and labour with my longing.
Oh, lead me to some desert wide and wild,
Barren as our misfortunes, where my soul
May have its vent; where I may tell aloud
To the high Heavens, and every listening planet,
With what a boundless stock my bosom's fraught;
Where I may throw my eager arms about thee,
Give loose to love, with kisses kindling joy,
And let off all the fire that's in my heart!

_Jaff. _ O Belvidera! doubly I'm a beggar,--
Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee;
Want! worldly want! that hungry meagre fiend
Is at my heels, and chases me in view.
Canst thou bear cold and hunger? Can these limbs,
Framed for the tender offices of love,
Endure the bitter gripes of smarting poverty?
When banished by our miseries abroad,
(As suddenly we shall be) to seek out,
In some far climate where our names are strangers,
For charitable succour; wilt thou then,
When in a bed of straw we shrink together,
And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads;
Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then
Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love?

_Belv. _ Oh, I will love thee, even in madness love thee:
Though my distracted senses should forsake me,
I'd find some intervals, when my poor heart
Should 'suage itself, and be let loose to thine.
Though the bare earth be all our resting-place,
Its roots our food, some clift our habitation,
I'll make this arm a pillow for thy head;
And as thou sighing liest, and swelled with sorrow,
Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love
Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest;
Then praise our God, and watch thee till the morning.

_Jaff. _ Hear this, you Heavens, and wonder how you made her!
Reign, reign, ye monarchs that divide the world;
Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know
Tranquillity and happiness like mine:
Like gaudy ships, the obsequious billows fall
And rise again, to lift you in your pride;
They wait but for a storm, and then devour you:
I, in my private bark, already wrecked,
Like a poor merchant driven on unknown land,
That had by chance packed up his choicest treasure
In one dear casket, and saved only that,
Since I must wander further on the shore,
Thus hug my little, but my precious store;
Resolved to scorn, and trust my fate no more. [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[64] This ceremony (first instituted by Pope Alexander III. ) took place
every Ascension-day. The Doge of Venice, attended by his nobles and
the senate, went in a vessel called the Bucentaur to the Adriatic sea,
which he _married_ by casting a gold ring into it, using at the same
time these words: "We wed thee, O Sea, in token of a true and lasting
dominion," &c. This circumstance is frequently alluded to in the course
of the play. --_Thornton. _




ACT THE SECOND.


SCENE I. --_Before the House of_ AQUILINA.

_Enter_ PIERRE _and_ AQUILINA.

_Aquil. _ By all thy wrongs, thou'rt dearer to my arms
Than all the wealth of Venice: pr'ythee stay,
And let us love to-night.

_Pier. _ No: there's fool,
There's fool about thee: when a woman sells
Her flesh to fools, her beauty's lost to me;
They leave a taint, a sully where they've passed;
There's such a baneful quality about them,
Even spoils complexions with their nauseousness;
They infect all they touch; I cannot think
Of tasting any thing a fool has palled.

_Aquil. _ I loathe and scorn that fool thou mean'st, as much
Or more than thou canst; but the beast has gold,
That makes him necessary; power too,
To qualify my character, and poise me
Equal with peevish virtue, that beholds
My liberty with envy: in their hearts
They're loose as I am; but an ugly power
Sits in their faces, and frights pleasures from them.

_Pier. _ Much good may't do you, madam, with your senator!

_Aquil. _ My senator! why, canst thou think that wretch
E'er filled thy Aquilina's arms with pleasure?
Think'st thou, because I sometimes give him leave
To foil himself at what he is unfit for;
Because I force myself to endure and suffer him,
Think'st thou I love him? No, by all the joys
Thou ever gav'st me, his presence is my penance:
The worst thing an old man can be is a lover,
A mere _memento mori_ to poor woman.
I never lay by his decrepit side,
But all that night I pondered on my grave.

_Pier. _ Would he were well sent thither!

_Aquil. _ That's my wish too,
For then, my Pierre, I might have cause, with pleasure,
To play the hypocrite. Oh! how I could weep
Over the dying dotard, and kiss him too,
In hopes to smother him quite; then, when the time
Was come to pay my sorrows at his funeral,
(For he has already made me heir to treasures
Would make me out-act a real widow's whining,)
How could I frame my face to fit my mourning!
With wringing hands attend him to his grave;
Fall swooning on his hearse; take mad possession
Even of the dismal vault where he lay buried;
There, like the Ephesian matron[65] dwell, till thou,
My lovely soldier, com'st to my deliverance:
Then throwing up my veil, with open arms
And laughing eyes, run to new dawning joy.

_Pier. _ No more! I've friends to meet me here to-night,
And must be private. As you prize my friendship,
Keep up[66] your coxcomb: let him not pry nor listen,
Nor frisk about the house as I have seen him,
Like a tame mumping squirrel with a bell on;
Curs will be abroad to bite him, if you do.

_Aquil. _ What friends to meet? mayn't I be of your council?

_Pier. _ How! a woman ask questions out of bed?
Go to your senator, ask him what passes
Amongst his brethren; he'll hide nothing from you:
But pump not me for politics. No more!
Give order, that whoever in my name
Comes here, receive admittance: so good-night.

_Aquil. _ Must we ne'er meet again? embrace no more?
Is love so soon and utterly forgotten?

_Pier. _ As you henceforward treat your fool, I'll think on't. [_Exit. _

_Aquil. _ Cursed be all fools, and doubly cursed myself,
The worst of fools! I die if he forsakes me;
And how to keep him, Heaven or hell instruct me. [_Exit. _

[Illustration]


SCENE II. --_The Rialto. _

_Enter_ JAFFIER.

_Jaff. _ I'm here; and thus, the shades of night around me,
I look as if all hell were in my heart,
And I in hell. Nay, surely, 'tis so with me;
For every step I tread, methinks some fiend
Knocks at my breast, and bids it not be quiet.
I've heard how desperate wretches, like myself,
Have wandered out at this dead time of night
To meet the foe of mankind in his walk:
Sure I'm so cursed that, though of Heaven forsaken,
No minister of darkness cares to tempt me.
Hell! hell! why sleep'st thou?

_Enter_ PIERRE.

_Pier. _ Sure I've 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. _

Marriage is chargeable.

_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. _

[Illustration]


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.