Venice Preserved Part 10

_Pier._ Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me to my straw: It will not be the first time I've lodg'd hard To do the senate service.

_Jaf._ Hold, one moment.

_Pier._ Who's he disputes the judgment of the senate?

Presumptuous rebel--on-- [_strikes Jaffier._

_Jaf._ By heav'n, you stir not!

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

Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow: Had not a dagger done thee n.o.bler 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: But, as there dwells a G.o.dlike nature in thee, Listen with mildness to my supplications.

_Pier._ 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: Leave, hypocrite.

_Jaf._ Not know me, Pierre?

_Pier._ No, I know thee not! What art thou?

_Jaf._ Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd, valu'd friend!

Though now deserv'dly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly.

_Pier._ Thou, Jaffier! thou, my once lov'd, valu'd friend!

By heav'ns thou liest; the man so call'd, my friend, Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant; n.o.ble 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 chill'd at.

_Jaf._ I have not wrong'd thee, by these tears I have not.

_Pier._ Hast thou not wrong'd me? Dar'st thou call thyself That once lov'd, valu'd friend of mine, And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence these chains?

Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment?

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

_Jaf._ All's true; yet grant one thing, and I've done asking.

_Pier._ What's that?

_Jaf._ To take thy life, on such conditions The counsel have propos'd: thou, and thy friends, May yet live long, and to be better treated.

_Pier._ Life! ask my life! confess! record myself A villain, for the privilege to breathe!

And carry up and down this cursed 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.

_Jaf._ By all that's just--

_Pier._ Swear by some other power, For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.

_Jaf._ Then, by that h.e.l.l I merit, I'll not leave thee, Till, to thyself, at least thou'rt reconcil'd, However thy resentment deal with me.

_Pier._ Not leave me!

_Jaf._ 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 'em, though they spurn me; Till, wounded by my sufferings, thou relent, And raise me to thy arms, with dear forgiveness.

_Pier._ Art thou not--

_Jaf._ What?

_Pier._ A traitor?

_Jaf._ Yes.

_Pier._ A villain?

_Jaf._ Granted.

_Pier._ A coward, a most scandalous coward; Spiritless, void of honour; one who has sold Thy everlasting fame, for shameless life?

_Jaf._ All, all, and more, much more: my faults are numberless.

_Pier._ And wouldst thou have me live on terms like thine; Base, as thou art false--

_Jaf._ No; 'tis to me that's granted: The safety of thy life was all I aim'd at, In recompense for faith and trust so broken.

_Pier._ I scorn it more, because preserv'd by thee; And as, when first my foolish heart took pity On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries, Reliev'd thy wants, and rais'd thee from the state Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plung'd thee, To rank thee in my list of n.o.ble friends, All I receiv'd, in surety for thy truth, Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger, Giv'n with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stol'n,-- So I restore it back to thee again; Swearing, by all those pow'rs which thou hast violated, Never, from this curs'd 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.

_Jaf._ Say thou wilt live then.

_Pier._ For my life, dispose it Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tir'd with.

_Jaf._ Oh, Pierre!

_Pier._ No more.

_Jaf._ My eyes won't lose the sight of thee, But languish after thee, and ache with gazing.

_Pier._ Leave me--Nay, then thus, thus I throw thee from me; And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee. [_exit._

_Jaf._ Amen.

He's gone, my father, friend, preserver, And here's the portion he has left me: [_shows the dagger._ This dagger. Well remember'd! with this dagger, I gave a solemn vow of dire importance; Parted with this, and Belvidera together.

Have a care, mem'ry, drive that thought no further: 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, call'd a traitor, villain, Coward, dishonourable coward; fough!

Oh! for a long sound sleep, and so forget it.

Down, busy devil!

_Enter Belvidera._

_Bel._ 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 us'd to smile, ev'n on my faults; but, down, Bending these miserable eyes on earth, Must move in penance, and implore much mercy.