No More Learning

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.
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?

_Jaff. _ Indeed 'tis late.

_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!

_Belv. _ Speak to me.

_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. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[65] A reference to the story in Petronius on which Chapman founded his
_Widow's Tears_.

[66] _i. e. _ Shut up.