Aquil.Yes, in thy heart, thy throat, thou pampered devil;Thou'st helped to spoil my peace, and I'll have vengeanceOn thy cursed life, for all the bloody Senate,The perjured faithless Senate. Where's my lord,My happiness, my love, my god, my hero,Doomed by thy accursed tongue, amongst the rest,To a shameful rack? By all the rage that's in me,I'll be whole years in murdering thee.
Aquil.Yes, in thy heart, thy throat, thou pampered devil;Thou'st helped to spoil my peace, and I'll have vengeanceOn thy cursed life, for all the bloody Senate,The perjured faithless Senate. Where's my lord,My happiness, my love, my god, my hero,Doomed by thy accursed tongue, amongst the rest,To a shameful rack? By all the rage that's in me,I'll be whole years in murdering thee.
Ant.Why, Nacky, wherefore so passionate? what have I done? what's the matter, my dear Nacky? Am not I thy love, thy happiness, thylord, thy hero, thy senator, and every thing in the world, Nacky?Aquil.Thou! think'st thou, thou art fit to met my joys; To bear the eager clasps of my embraces? Give me my Pierre, or—Ant.Why, he's to be hanged, little Nacky; trussed up for treason, and so forth, child.
Ant.Why, Nacky, wherefore so passionate? what have I done? what's the matter, my dear Nacky? Am not I thy love, thy happiness, thylord, thy hero, thy senator, and every thing in the world, Nacky?
Aquil.Thou! think'st thou, thou art fit to met my joys; To bear the eager clasps of my embraces? Give me my Pierre, or—
Ant.Why, he's to be hanged, little Nacky; trussed up for treason, and so forth, child.
Aquil.Thou liest; stop down thy throat that hellish sentence,Or 'tis thy last: swear that my love shall live,Or thou art dead.Ant.Ah!Aquil.Swear to recall his doom;Swear at my feet, and tremble at my fury.
Aquil.Thou liest; stop down thy throat that hellish sentence,Or 'tis thy last: swear that my love shall live,Or thou art dead.
Ant.Ah!
Aquil.Swear to recall his doom;Swear at my feet, and tremble at my fury.
Ant.I do. Now if she would but kick a little bit, one kick now; ah!Aquil.Swear, or—Ant.I do, by these dear fragrant foots, and little toes, sweet as—e-e-e-e my Nacky, Nacky, Nacky.Aquil.How!Ant.Nothing but untie thy shoe-string a little, faith and troth, that's all, that's all, as I hope to live, Nacky, that's all.Aquil.Nay, then—Ant.Hold, hold; thy love, thy lord, thy hero Shall be preserved and safe.Aquil.Or may this poniard Rust in thy heart!Ant.With all my soul.Aquil.Farewell![Exit.Ant.Adieu! Why, what a bloody-minded, inveterate, termagant strumpet have I been plagued with! Oh, yet more! nay then, I die, I die—I am dead already. [Stretches himself out. Scene closes.
Ant.I do. Now if she would but kick a little bit, one kick now; ah!
Aquil.Swear, or—
Ant.I do, by these dear fragrant foots, and little toes, sweet as—e-e-e-e my Nacky, Nacky, Nacky.
Aquil.How!
Ant.Nothing but untie thy shoe-string a little, faith and troth, that's all, that's all, as I hope to live, Nacky, that's all.
Aquil.Nay, then—
Ant.Hold, hold; thy love, thy lord, thy hero Shall be preserved and safe.
Aquil.Or may this poniard Rust in thy heart!
Ant.With all my soul.
Aquil.Farewell![Exit.
Ant.Adieu! Why, what a bloody-minded, inveterate, termagant strumpet have I been plagued with! Oh, yet more! nay then, I die, I die—I am dead already. [Stretches himself out. Scene closes.
EnterJaffier.
Jaff.Final destruction seize on all the world!Bend down, ye Heavens, and, shutting round this earth,Crush the vile globe into its first confusion;Scorch it with elemental flames to one curst cinder,And all us little creepers in't, called men,Burn, burn, to nothing! but let Venice burnHotter than all the rest; here kindle hellNe'er to extinguish; and let souls hereafterGroan here, in all those pains which mine feels now!
Jaff.Final destruction seize on all the world!Bend down, ye Heavens, and, shutting round this earth,Crush the vile globe into its first confusion;Scorch it with elemental flames to one curst cinder,And all us little creepers in't, called men,Burn, burn, to nothing! but let Venice burnHotter than all the rest; here kindle hellNe'er to extinguish; and let souls hereafterGroan here, in all those pains which mine feels now!
EnterBelvidera.
Belv.My life![Meeting him.Jaff.My plague![Turning from her.Belv.Nay, then I see my ruin,If I must die!Jaff.No, Death's this day too busy;Thy father's ill-timed mercy came too late.I thank thee for thy labours though, and him too:But all my poor, betrayed, unhappy friendsHave summons to prepare for fate's black hour;And yet I live.Belv.Then be the next my doom.I see thou hast passed my sentence in thy heart,And I'll no longer weep or plead against it;But with the humblest, most obedient patienceMeet thy dear hands, and kiss them when they wound me.Indeed I'm willing, but I beg thee do itWith some remorse; and, when thou givest the blow,View me with eyes of a relenting love,And show me pity, for 'twill sweeten justice.Jaff.Show pity to thee?Belv.Yes; and when thy hands,Charged with my fate, come trembling to the deed,As thou hast done a thousand thousand dear timesTo this poor breast, when kinder rage has brought thee,When our stinged hearts have leaped to meet each other,And melting kisses sealed our lips together,When joys have left me gasping in thy arms,So let my death come now, and I'll not shrink from it.Jaff.Nay, Belvidera, do not fear my cruelty,Nor let the thoughts of death perplex thy fancy;But answer me to what I shall demand,With a firm temper and unshaken spirit.Belv.I will when I've done weeping—Jaff.Fie, no more on't.How long is't since the miserable dayWe wedded first?Belv.Oh!Jaff.Nay, keep in thy tears,Lest they unman me too.Belv.Heaven knows I cannot;The words you utter sound so very sadly,These streams will follow—Jaff.Come, I'll kiss them dry then.Belv.But was't a miserable day?Jaff.A cursed one.Belv.I thought it otherwise; and you've oft swornIn the transporting hours of warmest love,When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn youblessed it.Jaff.'Twas a rash oath.Belv.Then why am I not cursed too?Jaff.No, Belvidera; by the eternal truth,I dote with too much fondness.Belv.Still so kind!Still then do you love me?Jaff.Nature, in her workings,Inclines not with more ardour to creation,Than I do now towards thee; man ne'er was blest,Since the first pair first met, as I have been.Belv.Then sure you will not curse me?Jaff.No, I'll bless thee.I came on purpose, Belvidera, to bless thee.'Tis now, I think, three years we've lived together.Belv.And may no fatal minute ever part us,Till reverend grown, for age and love, we goDown to one grave, as our last bed, together;There sleep in peace till an eternal morning!Jaff.When will that be?[Sighing.Belv.I hope long ages hence.Jaff.Have I not hitherto—I beg thee tell meThy very fears—used thee with tenderest love?Did e'er my soul rise up in wrath against thee?Did I e'er frown when Belvidera smiled,Or, by the least unfriendly word, betrayAbating passion? have I ever wronged thee?Belv.No.Jaff.Has my heart, or have my eyes e'er wanderedTo any other woman?Belv.Never, never.I were the worst of false ones, should I accuse thee.I own I've been too happy, blest aboveMy sex's charter.Jaff.Did I not say I cameTo bless thee?Belv.Yes.Jaff.Then hear me, bounteous Heaven!Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,Where everlasting sweets are always springing:With a continual-giving hand, let peace,Honour, and safety always hover round her;Feed her with plenty; let her eyes ne'er seeA sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning:Crown all her days with joy, her nights with restHarmless as her own thoughts, and prop her virtueTo bear the loss of one that too much loved;And comfort her with patience in our parting!Belv.How, parting, parting!Jaff.Yes, for ever parting;I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon Heaven,That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee,We part this hour for ever.Belv.Oh, call backYour cruel blessing; stay with me and curse me!Jaff.No; 'tis resolved.Belv.Then hear me too, just Heaven!Pour down your curses on this wretched head,With never-ceasing vengeance; let despair,Danger or infamy, nay, all surround me.Starve me with wantings; let my eyes ne'er seeA sight of comfort, nor my heart know peace;But dash my days with sorrow, nights with horrorsWild as my own thoughts now, and let loose furyTo make me mad enough for what I lose,If I must lose him—if I must! I will not.—Oh, turn and hear me!Jaff.Now hold, heart, or never.Belv.By all the tender days we have lived together,By all our charming nights, and joys that crowned them,Pity my sad condition; speak, but speak!Jaff.Oh!Belv.By these arms that now cling round thy neck,By this dear kiss, and by ten thousand more,By these poor streaming eyes—Jaff.Murder! unhold me!By the immortal destiny that doomed me[Draws his dagger.To this cursed minute, I'll not live one longer.Resolve to let me go, or see me fall—Belv.Hold, sir, be patient.Jaff.Hark, the dismal bell[Passing-bell tolls.Tolls out for death! I must attend its call too;For my poor friend, my dying Pierre expects me;He sent a message to require I'd see himBefore he died, and take his last forgiveness.Farewell for ever!Belv.Leave thy dagger with me.Bequeath me something.—Not one kiss at parting?
Belv.My life![Meeting him.
Jaff.My plague![Turning from her.
Belv.Nay, then I see my ruin,If I must die!
Jaff.No, Death's this day too busy;Thy father's ill-timed mercy came too late.I thank thee for thy labours though, and him too:But all my poor, betrayed, unhappy friendsHave summons to prepare for fate's black hour;And yet I live.
Belv.Then be the next my doom.I see thou hast passed my sentence in thy heart,And I'll no longer weep or plead against it;But with the humblest, most obedient patienceMeet thy dear hands, and kiss them when they wound me.Indeed I'm willing, but I beg thee do itWith some remorse; and, when thou givest the blow,View me with eyes of a relenting love,And show me pity, for 'twill sweeten justice.
Jaff.Show pity to thee?
Belv.Yes; and when thy hands,Charged with my fate, come trembling to the deed,As thou hast done a thousand thousand dear timesTo this poor breast, when kinder rage has brought thee,When our stinged hearts have leaped to meet each other,And melting kisses sealed our lips together,When joys have left me gasping in thy arms,So let my death come now, and I'll not shrink from it.
Jaff.Nay, Belvidera, do not fear my cruelty,Nor let the thoughts of death perplex thy fancy;But answer me to what I shall demand,With a firm temper and unshaken spirit.
Belv.I will when I've done weeping—
Jaff.Fie, no more on't.How long is't since the miserable dayWe wedded first?
Belv.Oh!
Jaff.Nay, keep in thy tears,Lest they unman me too.
Belv.Heaven knows I cannot;The words you utter sound so very sadly,These streams will follow—
Jaff.Come, I'll kiss them dry then.
Belv.But was't a miserable day?
Jaff.A cursed one.
Belv.I thought it otherwise; and you've oft swornIn the transporting hours of warmest love,When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn youblessed it.
Jaff.'Twas a rash oath.
Belv.Then why am I not cursed too?
Jaff.No, Belvidera; by the eternal truth,I dote with too much fondness.
Belv.Still so kind!Still then do you love me?
Jaff.Nature, in her workings,Inclines not with more ardour to creation,Than I do now towards thee; man ne'er was blest,Since the first pair first met, as I have been.
Belv.Then sure you will not curse me?
Jaff.No, I'll bless thee.I came on purpose, Belvidera, to bless thee.'Tis now, I think, three years we've lived together.
Belv.And may no fatal minute ever part us,Till reverend grown, for age and love, we goDown to one grave, as our last bed, together;There sleep in peace till an eternal morning!
Jaff.When will that be?[Sighing.
Belv.I hope long ages hence.
Jaff.Have I not hitherto—I beg thee tell meThy very fears—used thee with tenderest love?Did e'er my soul rise up in wrath against thee?Did I e'er frown when Belvidera smiled,Or, by the least unfriendly word, betrayAbating passion? have I ever wronged thee?
Belv.No.
Jaff.Has my heart, or have my eyes e'er wanderedTo any other woman?
Belv.Never, never.I were the worst of false ones, should I accuse thee.I own I've been too happy, blest aboveMy sex's charter.
Jaff.Did I not say I cameTo bless thee?
Belv.Yes.
Jaff.Then hear me, bounteous Heaven!Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,Where everlasting sweets are always springing:With a continual-giving hand, let peace,Honour, and safety always hover round her;Feed her with plenty; let her eyes ne'er seeA sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning:Crown all her days with joy, her nights with restHarmless as her own thoughts, and prop her virtueTo bear the loss of one that too much loved;And comfort her with patience in our parting!
Belv.How, parting, parting!
Jaff.Yes, for ever parting;I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon Heaven,That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee,We part this hour for ever.
Belv.Oh, call backYour cruel blessing; stay with me and curse me!
Jaff.No; 'tis resolved.
Belv.Then hear me too, just Heaven!Pour down your curses on this wretched head,With never-ceasing vengeance; let despair,Danger or infamy, nay, all surround me.Starve me with wantings; let my eyes ne'er seeA sight of comfort, nor my heart know peace;But dash my days with sorrow, nights with horrorsWild as my own thoughts now, and let loose furyTo make me mad enough for what I lose,If I must lose him—if I must! I will not.—Oh, turn and hear me!
Jaff.Now hold, heart, or never.
Belv.By all the tender days we have lived together,By all our charming nights, and joys that crowned them,Pity my sad condition; speak, but speak!
Jaff.Oh!
Belv.By these arms that now cling round thy neck,By this dear kiss, and by ten thousand more,By these poor streaming eyes—
Jaff.Murder! unhold me!By the immortal destiny that doomed me[Draws his dagger.To this cursed minute, I'll not live one longer.Resolve to let me go, or see me fall—
Belv.Hold, sir, be patient.
Jaff.Hark, the dismal bell[Passing-bell tolls.Tolls out for death! I must attend its call too;For my poor friend, my dying Pierre expects me;He sent a message to require I'd see himBefore he died, and take his last forgiveness.Farewell for ever!
Belv.Leave thy dagger with me.Bequeath me something.—Not one kiss at parting?
[Jaffier,going out, looks back at her.
O my poor heart, when wilt thou break?Jaff.Yet stay,We have a child, as yet a tender infant:Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone,Breed him in virtue and the paths of honour,But let him never know his father's story;I charge thee guard him from the wrongs my fateMay do his future fortune, or his name.Now—nearer yet! [Approaching each other.] Oh that my arms were rivettedThus round thee ever! But my friends, my oath—This, and no more.[Kisses her.Belv.Another, sure another,For that poor little one you've ta'en care of;I'll give't him truly.Jaff.So, now farewell.Belv.For ever?Jaff.Heaven knows for ever; all good angelsguard thee![Exit.Belv.All ill ones sure had charge of me this moment.Cursed be my days, and doubly cursed my nights,Which I must now mourn out in widowed tears;Blasted be every herb, and fruit, and tree;Cursed be the rain that falls upon the earth,And may the general curse reach man and beast!Oh, give me daggers, fire, or water;How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, the wavesHuzzing and booming round my sinking head,Till I descended to the peaceful bottom!Oh, there's all quiet, here all rage and fury;The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain;I long for thick substantial sleep. Hell! hell!Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud,If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am!
O my poor heart, when wilt thou break?
Jaff.Yet stay,We have a child, as yet a tender infant:Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone,Breed him in virtue and the paths of honour,But let him never know his father's story;I charge thee guard him from the wrongs my fateMay do his future fortune, or his name.Now—nearer yet! [Approaching each other.] Oh that my arms were rivettedThus round thee ever! But my friends, my oath—This, and no more.[Kisses her.
Belv.Another, sure another,For that poor little one you've ta'en care of;I'll give't him truly.
Jaff.So, now farewell.
Belv.For ever?
Jaff.Heaven knows for ever; all good angelsguard thee![Exit.
Belv.All ill ones sure had charge of me this moment.Cursed be my days, and doubly cursed my nights,Which I must now mourn out in widowed tears;Blasted be every herb, and fruit, and tree;Cursed be the rain that falls upon the earth,And may the general curse reach man and beast!Oh, give me daggers, fire, or water;How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, the wavesHuzzing and booming round my sinking head,Till I descended to the peaceful bottom!Oh, there's all quiet, here all rage and fury;The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain;I long for thick substantial sleep. Hell! hell!Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud,If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am!
EnterPriuliandServants.
Who's there?Priu.Run, seize and bring her safely home;Guard her as you would life. Alas, poor creature!
Who's there?
Priu.Run, seize and bring her safely home;Guard her as you would life. Alas, poor creature!
[They seize her.
Belv.What! to my husband? then conduct me quickly.Are all things ready? shall we die most gloriously?Say not a word of this to my old father.Murmuring streams, soft shades, and springing flowers,Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of amber.[Exeunt.
Belv.What! to my husband? then conduct me quickly.Are all things ready? shall we die most gloriously?Say not a word of this to my old father.Murmuring streams, soft shades, and springing flowers,Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of amber.[Exeunt.
EnterOfficers,Pierre,andGuards,aFriar, Executioner,and a greatRabble.
Offi.Room, room there—stand all by, make roomfor the prisoner.Pier.My friend not come yet?Friar.Why are you so obstinate?Pier.Why you so troublesome, that a poor wretchCan't die in peace,But you like ravens will be croaking round him?Friar.Yet Heaven—Pier.I tell thee Heaven and I are friends:I ne'er broke peace with it yet, by cruel murders,Rapine or perjury, or vile deceiving;But lived in moral justice towards all men;Nor am a foe to the most strong believers,Howe'er my own short-sighted faith confine me.Friar.But an all-seeing Judge—Pier.You say my conscienceMust be my accuser: I have searched that conscience,And find no records there of crimes that scare me.Friar.'Tis strange you should want faith.Pier.You want to leadMy reason blindfold, like a hampered lion,Checked of its nobler vigour; then, when baitedDown to obedient tameness, make it couch,And show strange tricks, which you call signs of faith:So silly souls are gulled, and you get money.Away, no more! Captain, I'd have hereafterThis fellow write no lies of my conversion,Because he has crept upon my troubled hours.
Offi.Room, room there—stand all by, make roomfor the prisoner.
Pier.My friend not come yet?
Friar.Why are you so obstinate?
Pier.Why you so troublesome, that a poor wretchCan't die in peace,But you like ravens will be croaking round him?
Friar.Yet Heaven—
Pier.I tell thee Heaven and I are friends:I ne'er broke peace with it yet, by cruel murders,Rapine or perjury, or vile deceiving;But lived in moral justice towards all men;Nor am a foe to the most strong believers,Howe'er my own short-sighted faith confine me.
Friar.But an all-seeing Judge—
Pier.You say my conscienceMust be my accuser: I have searched that conscience,And find no records there of crimes that scare me.
Friar.'Tis strange you should want faith.
Pier.You want to leadMy reason blindfold, like a hampered lion,Checked of its nobler vigour; then, when baitedDown to obedient tameness, make it couch,And show strange tricks, which you call signs of faith:So silly souls are gulled, and you get money.Away, no more! Captain, I'd have hereafterThis fellow write no lies of my conversion,Because he has crept upon my troubled hours.
EnterJaffier.
Jaff.Hold: eyes, be dry; heart, strengthen me to bearThis hideous sight, and humble me to takeThe last forgiveness of a dying friend,Betrayed by my vile falsehood to his ruin!O Pierre!Pier.Yet nearer.Jaff.Crawling on my knees,And prostrate on the earth, let me approach thee:How shall I look up to thy injured face,That always used to smile with friendship on me?It darts an air of so much manly virtue,That I, methinks, look little in thy sight,And stripes are fitter for me than embraces.Pier.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 wishesOf all good men, like thee, to bless my journey.Jaff.Good! I'm the vilest creature, worse than e'erSuffered the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of.Why was I sent for to be used thus kindly?Call, call me villain, as I am; describeThe foul complexion of my hateful deeds;Lead me to the rack, and stretch me in thy stead,I've crimes enough to give it its full load,And do it credit: thou wilt but spoil the use on't,And honest men hereafter bear its figureAbout them, as a charm from treacherous friendship.Offi.The time grows short; your friends are dead already.Jaff.Dead!Pier.Yes, dead, Jaffier; they've all died like men too,Worthy their character.Jaff.And what must I do?Pier.Oh, Jaffier!Jaff.Speak aloud thy burthened soul,And tell thy troubles to thy tortured friend!Pier.Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend,I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.Heaven knows I want a friend!Jaff.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.Jaff.Yes, I will live,But it shall be to see thy fall revengedAt such a rate as Venice long shall groan for.Pier.Wilt thou?Jaff.I will, by Heaven!Pier.Then still thou'rt noble,And I forgive thee. Oh—yet—shall I trust thee?Jaff.No; I've been false already.Pier.Dost thou love me?Jaff.Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings.Pier.Curse on this weakness![He weeps.Jaff.Tears! amazement! tears!I never saw thee melted thus before;And know there's something labouring in thy bosomThat must have vent: though I'm a villain, tell me.Pier.Seest thou that engine?[Pointing to the wheel.
Jaff.Hold: eyes, be dry; heart, strengthen me to bearThis hideous sight, and humble me to takeThe last forgiveness of a dying friend,Betrayed by my vile falsehood to his ruin!O Pierre!
Pier.Yet nearer.
Jaff.Crawling on my knees,And prostrate on the earth, let me approach thee:How shall I look up to thy injured face,That always used to smile with friendship on me?It darts an air of so much manly virtue,That I, methinks, look little in thy sight,And stripes are fitter for me than embraces.
Pier.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 wishesOf all good men, like thee, to bless my journey.
Jaff.Good! I'm the vilest creature, worse than e'erSuffered the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of.Why was I sent for to be used thus kindly?Call, call me villain, as I am; describeThe foul complexion of my hateful deeds;Lead me to the rack, and stretch me in thy stead,I've crimes enough to give it its full load,And do it credit: thou wilt but spoil the use on't,And honest men hereafter bear its figureAbout them, as a charm from treacherous friendship.
Offi.The time grows short; your friends are dead already.
Jaff.Dead!
Pier.Yes, dead, Jaffier; they've all died like men too,Worthy their character.
Jaff.And what must I do?
Pier.Oh, Jaffier!
Jaff.Speak aloud thy burthened soul,And tell thy troubles to thy tortured friend!
Pier.Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend,I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.Heaven knows I want a friend!
Jaff.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.
Jaff.Yes, I will live,But it shall be to see thy fall revengedAt such a rate as Venice long shall groan for.
Pier.Wilt thou?
Jaff.I will, by Heaven!
Pier.Then still thou'rt noble,And I forgive thee. Oh—yet—shall I trust thee?
Jaff.No; I've been false already.
Pier.Dost thou love me?
Jaff.Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings.
Pier.Curse on this weakness![He weeps.
Jaff.Tears! amazement! tears!I never saw thee melted thus before;And know there's something labouring in thy bosomThat must have vent: though I'm a villain, tell me.
Pier.Seest thou that engine?[Pointing to the wheel.
Jaff.Why?Pier.Is't fit a soldier, who has lived with honour,Fought nations' quarrels, and been crowned with conquest,Be exposed a common carcass on a wheel?Jaff.Ha!Pier.Speak! is't fitting?Jaff.Fitting?Pier.Yes, is't fitting?Jaff.What's to be done?Pier.I'd have thee undertakeSomething that's noble, to preserve my memoryFrom 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.Jaff.No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied;I have a wife, and she shall bleed; my child tooYield up his little throat, and all to appease thee—
Jaff.Why?
Pier.Is't fit a soldier, who has lived with honour,Fought nations' quarrels, and been crowned with conquest,Be exposed a common carcass on a wheel?
Jaff.Ha!
Pier.Speak! is't fitting?
Jaff.Fitting?
Pier.Yes, is't fitting?
Jaff.What's to be done?
Pier.I'd have thee undertakeSomething that's noble, to preserve my memoryFrom 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.
Jaff.No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied;I have a wife, and she shall bleed; my child tooYield up his little throat, and all to appease thee—
[Going away,Pierreholds him.
Pier.No—this—no more![He whispersJaffier.Jaff.Ha! is't then so?Pier.Most certainly.Jaff.I'll do it.Pier.Remember.Offi.Sir.Pier.Come, now I'm ready.
Pier.No—this—no more![He whispersJaffier.
Jaff.Ha! is't then so?
Pier.Most certainly.
Jaff.I'll do it.
Pier.Remember.
Offi.Sir.
Pier.Come, now I'm ready.
[He andJaffierascend the scaffold.
Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour;Keep off the rabble, that I may have roomTo entertain my fate, and die with decency.Come![Takes off his gown.Executionerprepares to bind him.Friar.Son!Pier.Hence, tempter!Offi.Stand off, priest!Pier.I thank you, sir.You'll think on't.[ToJaffier.Jaff.'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow.Pier.Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now;—Jaff.Have at thee,[Executionerhaving bound him.Thou honest heart, then—here! [Stabs him.] And this is well too.
Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour;Keep off the rabble, that I may have roomTo entertain my fate, and die with decency.Come![Takes off his gown.Executionerprepares to bind him.
Friar.Son!
Pier.Hence, tempter!
Offi.Stand off, priest!
Pier.I thank you, sir.You'll think on't.[ToJaffier.
Jaff.'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow.
Pier.Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now;—
Jaff.Have at thee,[Executionerhaving bound him.Thou honest heart, then—here! [Stabs him.] And this is well too.
[Stabs himself.
Friar.Damnable deed!Pier.Now thou'st indeed been faithful.This was done nobly. We have deceived the Senate.Jaff.Bravely.Pier.Ha, ha, ha! Oh, oh![Dies.Jaff.Now, ye cursed rulers,Thus of the blood you've shed I make libation,And sprinkle it mingling: may it rest upon you,And all your race! Be henceforth peace a strangerWithin your walls! Let plagues and famine wasteYour generations!—O poor Belvidera!Sir, I've a wife; bear this in safety to her,—A token that with my dying breath I blessed her,And the dear little infant left behind me.I'm sick—I'm quiet—[Dies.Offi.Bear this news to the Senate,And guard their bodies till there's farther order:Heaven grant I die so well![The Scene closes.
Friar.Damnable deed!
Pier.Now thou'st indeed been faithful.This was done nobly. We have deceived the Senate.
Jaff.Bravely.
Pier.Ha, ha, ha! Oh, oh![Dies.
Jaff.Now, ye cursed rulers,Thus of the blood you've shed I make libation,And sprinkle it mingling: may it rest upon you,And all your race! Be henceforth peace a strangerWithin your walls! Let plagues and famine wasteYour generations!—O poor Belvidera!Sir, I've a wife; bear this in safety to her,—A token that with my dying breath I blessed her,And the dear little infant left behind me.I'm sick—I'm quiet—[Dies.
Offi.Bear this news to the Senate,And guard their bodies till there's farther order:Heaven grant I die so well![The Scene closes.
Soft Music.EnterBelvideradistracted, led by twoof herWomen,Priuli,andServants.
Priu.Strengthen her heart with patience, pitying Heaven!Belv.Come, come, come, come—nay, come to bed,Pr'ythee, my love. The winds! hark how they whistle!And the rain beats: oh, how the weather shrinks me!You're angry now; who cares? pish, no, indeed!Choose then; I say you shall not go, you shall not.Whip your ill-nature; get you gone then—oh!
Priu.Strengthen her heart with patience, pitying Heaven!
Belv.Come, come, come, come—nay, come to bed,Pr'ythee, my love. The winds! hark how they whistle!And the rain beats: oh, how the weather shrinks me!You're angry now; who cares? pish, no, indeed!Choose then; I say you shall not go, you shall not.Whip your ill-nature; get you gone then—oh!
[Jaffier'sGhostrises.
Are you returned? See, father, here he's come again:Am I to blame to love him? O, thou dear one!
Are you returned? See, father, here he's come again:Am I to blame to love him? O, thou dear one!
[Ghostsinks.
Why do you fly me? are you angry still then?Jaffier! where art thou? Father, why do you do thus?Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here somewhere.Stand off, I say! what, gone? remember it, tyrant!I may revenge myself for this trick one day.I'll do't—I'll do't. Renault's a nasty fellow:Hang him, hang him, hang him!
Why do you fly me? are you angry still then?Jaffier! where art thou? Father, why do you do thus?Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here somewhere.Stand off, I say! what, gone? remember it, tyrant!I may revenge myself for this trick one day.I'll do't—I'll do't. Renault's a nasty fellow:Hang him, hang him, hang him!
EnterOfficerand others.
Priu.News—what news?[OfficerwhispersPriuli.Offi.Most sad, sir.Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to preventA shameful death, stabbed Pierre, and next himself:Both fell together.Priu.Daughter!
Priu.News—what news?[OfficerwhispersPriuli.
Offi.Most sad, sir.Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to preventA shameful death, stabbed Pierre, and next himself:Both fell together.
Priu.Daughter!
[TheGhostsofJaffierandPierrerise together, both bloody.
Belv.Ha, look there!My husband bloody, and his friend too! Murder!Who has done this? speak to me, thou sad vision;[Ghostssink.On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Vanished!—Here they went down. Oh, I'll dig, dig the den up.You shan't delude me thus. Ho, Jaffier, Jaffier,Peep up and give me but a look. I have him!I've got him, father: oh, now how I'll smuggle him!My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! help me!They've hold on me, and drag me to the bottom.Nay—now they pull so hard—farewell![Dies.Maid.She's dead—Breathless and dead.Priu.Then guard me from the sight on't.Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning,Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sunMay never enter; hang it round with black;Set up one taper that may last a day,As long as I've to live; and there all leave me,—Sparing no tears when you this tale relate;But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate.[Exeunt.
Belv.Ha, look there!My husband bloody, and his friend too! Murder!Who has done this? speak to me, thou sad vision;[Ghostssink.On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Vanished!—Here they went down. Oh, I'll dig, dig the den up.You shan't delude me thus. Ho, Jaffier, Jaffier,Peep up and give me but a look. I have him!I've got him, father: oh, now how I'll smuggle him!My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! help me!They've hold on me, and drag me to the bottom.Nay—now they pull so hard—farewell![Dies.
Maid.She's dead—Breathless and dead.
Priu.Then guard me from the sight on't.Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning,Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sunMay never enter; hang it round with black;Set up one taper that may last a day,As long as I've to live; and there all leave me,—Sparing no tears when you this tale relate;But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate.[Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:[77]This was the burden of many songs of that period, as in the following:"We'll drive the doctors out of doors,And parts whate'er they be,We'll cry all parts and learning down,Andheigh then up go we."Collec. of Songs, 1731.—Thornton.
[77]This was the burden of many songs of that period, as in the following:"We'll drive the doctors out of doors,And parts whate'er they be,We'll cry all parts and learning down,Andheigh then up go we."Collec. of Songs, 1731.—Thornton.
[77]This was the burden of many songs of that period, as in the following:
"We'll drive the doctors out of doors,And parts whate'er they be,We'll cry all parts and learning down,Andheigh then up go we."
"We'll drive the doctors out of doors,And parts whate'er they be,We'll cry all parts and learning down,Andheigh then up go we."
Collec. of Songs, 1731.—Thornton.
EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE
The text is done, and now for application,And when that's ended, pass your approbation.Though the conspiracy's prevented here,Methinks I see another hatching there;And there's a certain faction fain would sway,If they had strength enough, and damn this play.But this the author bade me boldly say:—If any take his plainness in ill part,He's glad on't from the bottom of his heart;Poets in honour of the truth should write,With the same spirit brave men for it fight;And though against him causeless hatreds rise,And daily where he goes of late, he spiesThe scowls of sullen and revengeful eyes,'Tis what he knows with much contempt to bear,And serves a cause too good to let him fear.He fears no poison from an incensed drab,No ruffian's five-foot-sword, nor rascal's stab,Nor any other snares of mischief laid,—Not a Rose-alley cudgel-ambuscade,[78]From any private cause where malice reigns,Or general pique all blockheads have to brains:Nothing shall daunt his pen when truth does call—No, not the picture-mangler[79]at Guildhall.The rebel tribe, of which that vermin's one,Have now set forward, and their course begun;And while that prince's figure they deface,As they before had massacred his name,Durst their base fears but look him in the face,They'd use his person as they've used his fame:A face in which such lineaments they readOf that great martyr's, whose rich blood they shed,That their rebellious hate they still retain,And in his son would murder him again.With indignation, then, let each brave heartRouse and unite to take his injured part;Till Royal love and goodness call him home,[80]And songs of triumph meet him as he come;Till Heaven his honour and our peace restore,And villains never wrong his virtue more.
The text is done, and now for application,And when that's ended, pass your approbation.Though the conspiracy's prevented here,Methinks I see another hatching there;And there's a certain faction fain would sway,If they had strength enough, and damn this play.But this the author bade me boldly say:—If any take his plainness in ill part,He's glad on't from the bottom of his heart;Poets in honour of the truth should write,With the same spirit brave men for it fight;And though against him causeless hatreds rise,And daily where he goes of late, he spiesThe scowls of sullen and revengeful eyes,'Tis what he knows with much contempt to bear,And serves a cause too good to let him fear.He fears no poison from an incensed drab,No ruffian's five-foot-sword, nor rascal's stab,Nor any other snares of mischief laid,—Not a Rose-alley cudgel-ambuscade,[78]From any private cause where malice reigns,Or general pique all blockheads have to brains:Nothing shall daunt his pen when truth does call—No, not the picture-mangler[79]at Guildhall.The rebel tribe, of which that vermin's one,Have now set forward, and their course begun;And while that prince's figure they deface,As they before had massacred his name,Durst their base fears but look him in the face,They'd use his person as they've used his fame:A face in which such lineaments they readOf that great martyr's, whose rich blood they shed,That their rebellious hate they still retain,And in his son would murder him again.With indignation, then, let each brave heartRouse and unite to take his injured part;Till Royal love and goodness call him home,[80]And songs of triumph meet him as he come;Till Heaven his honour and our peace restore,And villains never wrong his virtue more.
FOOTNOTES:[78]This refers to the attack upon Dryden in Rose Street, Covent Garden, in December 1679—made by order of Rochester in consequence, it is supposed, of Dryden being reputed the author of theEssay on Satire. The preceding verse probably contains an allusion to the stabbing of Mr. Scroop by Sir Thomas Armstrong, in the pit of the Duke's Theatre, which is mentioned by Langbaine (Dram. Poets, p. 460).[79]The same incident is referred to by other writers. The Duke of York's picture had been cut from the legs downwards.[80]The Duke was then in a sort of exile in Scotland.
[78]This refers to the attack upon Dryden in Rose Street, Covent Garden, in December 1679—made by order of Rochester in consequence, it is supposed, of Dryden being reputed the author of theEssay on Satire. The preceding verse probably contains an allusion to the stabbing of Mr. Scroop by Sir Thomas Armstrong, in the pit of the Duke's Theatre, which is mentioned by Langbaine (Dram. Poets, p. 460).
[78]This refers to the attack upon Dryden in Rose Street, Covent Garden, in December 1679—made by order of Rochester in consequence, it is supposed, of Dryden being reputed the author of theEssay on Satire. The preceding verse probably contains an allusion to the stabbing of Mr. Scroop by Sir Thomas Armstrong, in the pit of the Duke's Theatre, which is mentioned by Langbaine (Dram. Poets, p. 460).
[79]The same incident is referred to by other writers. The Duke of York's picture had been cut from the legs downwards.
[79]The same incident is referred to by other writers. The Duke of York's picture had been cut from the legs downwards.
[80]The Duke was then in a sort of exile in Scotland.
[80]The Duke was then in a sort of exile in Scotland.
APPENDIX.
APPENDIX.
The following letters were first published among a collection ofFamiliar Letters by Lord Rochester and others, &c. 8vo, 1697; and were afterwards subjoined to an edition of Otway's Works in 1727, under the title of "Love Letters." They have no superscription, but are supposed to have been written to Mrs. Barry, the actress.
My Tyrant!
I endure too much torment to be silent, and have endured it too long not to make the severest complaint. I love you, I dote on you; desire makes me mad when I am near you, and despair when I am from you. Sure, of all miseries, love is to me the most intolerable: it haunts me in my sleep, perplexes me when waking; every melancholy thought makes my fears more powerful, and every delightful one makes my wishes more unruly. In all other uneasy chances of a man's life, there is an immediate recourse to some kind of succour or another: in wants we apply ourselves to our friends, in sickness to physicians; but love, the sum, the total of all misfortunes, must be endured with silence; no friend so dear to trust with such a secret, nor remedy in art so powerful to remove its anguish. Since the first day I saw you, I have hardly enjoyed one hour of perfect quiet. I loved you early; and no sooner had I beheld that soft bewitching face of yours, but I felt in my heart the very foundation of all my peace give way: but when you became another's I must confess that I did then rebel, had foolish pride enough to promise myself I would in time recover my liberty: in spite of my enslaved nature, I swore, against myself, I would not love you; I affected a resentment,stifled my spirit, and would not let it bend so much as once to upbraid you, each day it was my chance to see or to be near you: with stubborn sufferance I resolved to bear, and brave your power: nay, did it often too, successfully.
Generally with wine or conversation I diverted or appeased the demon that possessed me; but when at night, returning to my unhappy self, to give my heart an account why I had done it so unnatural a violence, it was then I always paid a treble interest for the short moments of ease which I had borrowed; then every treacherous thought rose up, and took your part, nor left me till they had thrown me on my bed, and opened those sluices of tears that were to run till morning. This has been for some years my best condition: nay, time itself, that decays all things else, has but increased and added to my longings. I tell it you, and charge you to believe it, as you are generous (which sure you must be, for everything, except your neglect of me, persuades me that you are so), even at this time, though other arms have held you, and so long trespassed on those dear joys that only were my due, I love you with that tenderness of spirit, that purity of truth, and that sincerity of heart, that I could sacrifice the nearest friends or interests I have on earth, barely but to please you: if I had all the world, it should be yours; for with it I could be but miserable, if you were not mine.
I appeal to yourself for justice, if through the whole actions of my life I have done any one thing that might not let you see how absolute your authority was over me. Your commands have been always sacred to me; your smiles have always transported me, and your frowns awed me. In short, you will quickly become to me the greatest blessing, or the greatest curse, that ever man was doomed to. I cannot so much as look on you without confusion; wishes and fears rise up in war within me, and work a cursed distraction through my soul, that must, I am sure, in time, have wretched consequences: you only can, with that healing cordial, love, assuage and calm my torments. Pity the man then that would be proud to die for you, and cannot live without you; and allow him thus far to boast too, that (take out fortune from the balance) you neverwere beloved or courted by a creature that had a nobler or juster pretence to your heart than the unfortunate and (even at this time) weeping
OTWAY.
In value of your quiet, though it would be the utter ruin of my own, I have endeavoured this day to persuade myself never more to trouble you with a passion that has tormented me sufficiently already; and is so much the more a torment to me, in that I perceive it is become one to you, who are much dearer to me than myself. I have laid all the reasons my distracted condition would let me have recourse to before me; I have consulted my pride, whether, after a rival's possession, I ought to ruin all my peace for a woman that another has been more blest in, though no man ever loved as I did;—but love, victorious love! o'erthrows all that, and tells me it is his nature never to remember; he still looks forward from the present hour, expecting still new dawns, new rising happiness; never looks back, never regards what is past and left behind him, but buries and forgets it quite in the hot fierce pursuit of joy before him. I have consulted too my very self, and find how careless nature was in framing me; seasoned me hastily with all the most violent inclinations and desires, but omitted the ornaments that should make those qualities become me. I have consulted too my lot of fortune, and find how foolishly I wish possession of what is so precious all the world's too cheap for it; yet still I love, still I dote on, and cheat myself, very content, because the folly pleases me. It is pleasure to think how fair you are, though, at the same time, worse than damnation to think how cruel. Why should you tell me you have shut your heart up for ever? It is an argument unworthy of yourself, sounds like reserve, and not so much sincerity as sure I may claim even from a little of your friendship.
Can your age, your face, your eyes, and your spirit bid defiance to that sweet power? No, you know better to what end Heaven made you; know better how to manage youth and pleasure, than to let them die and pallupon your hands. 'Tis me, 'tis only me you have barred your heart against. My sufferings, my diligence, my sighs, complaints, and tears, are of no power with your haughty nature: yet sure you might at least vouchsafe to pity them, not shift me off with gross, thick, homespun friendship, the common coin that passes betwixt worldly interests—must that be my lot? Take it, ill-natured, take it; give it to him who would waste his fortune for you; give it the man would fill your lap with gold, court you with offers of vast rich possessions; give it the fool that has nothing but his money to plead for him: love will have a much nearer relation, or none. I ask for glorious happiness; you bid me welcome to your friendship: it is like seating me at your side-table, when I have the best pretence to your right hand at the feast. I love, I dote, I am mad, and know no measure; nothing but extremes can give me ease, the kindest love, or most provoking scorn.
Yet even your scorn would not perform the cure: it might indeed take off the edge of hope, but damned despair will gnaw my heart for ever. If then I am not odious to your eyes, if you have charity enough to value the well-being of a man that holds you dearer than you can the child your bowels are most fond of, by that sweet pledge of your first softest love, I charm and here conjure you to pity the distracting pangs of mine; pity my unquiet days and restless nights; pity the frenzy that has half possessed my brain already, and makes me write to you thus ravingly: the wretch in Bedlam is more at peace than I am; and if I must never possess the heaven I wish for, my next desire is (and the sooner the better) a clean-swept cell, a merciful keeper, and your compassion when you find me there.
Think and be generous.
Since you are going to quit the world[81]I think myself obliged, as a member of that world, to use the best of my endeavours to divert you from so ill-natured an inclination: therefore, by reason your visits will take up so much ofthis day, I have debarred myself the opportunity of waiting on you this afternoon, that I may take a time you are more mistress of, and when you shall have more leisure to hear, if it be possible for any arguments of mine to take place in a heart I am afraid too much hardened against me. I must confess it may look a little extraordinary for one under my circumstances to endeavour the confirming your good opinion of the world, when it had been much better for me, one of us had never seen it; for nature disposed me from my creation to love, and my ill-fortune has condemned me to dote on one who certainly could never have been deaf so long to so faithful a passion had nature disposed her from her creation to hate anything but me. I beg you to forgive this trifling, for I have so many thoughts of this nature that 'tis impossible for me to take pen and ink in my hand and keep them quiet, especially when I have the least pretence to let you know you are the cause of the severest disquiets that ever touched the heart of
OTWAY.
Could I see you without passion, or be absent from you without pain, I need not beg your pardon for this renewing my vows, that I love you more than health, or any happiness here or hereafter. Everything you do is a new charm to me; and, though I have languished for seven long tedious years of desire, jealously and despairing, yet every minute I see you I still discover something new and more bewitching. Consider how I love you; what would not I renounce or enterprise for you! I must have you mine, or I am miserable, and nothing but knowing which shall be the happy hour can make the rest of my life that are [is] to come tolerable. Give me a word or two of comfort, or resolve never to look with common goodness on me more, for I cannot bear a kind look, and after it a cruel denial. This minute my heart aches for you; and, if I cannot have a right in yours, I wish it would ache till I could complain to you no longer.
Remember poor OTWAY.
You cannot but be sensible that I am blind, or you would not so openly discover what a ridiculous tool you make of me. I should be glad to discover whose satisfaction I was sacrificed to this morning; for I am sure your own ill-nature could not be guilty of inventing such an injury to me, merely to try how much I could bear, were it not for the sake of some ass that has the fortune to please you. In short, I have made it the business of my life to do you service and please you, if possible by any way to convince you of the unhappy love I have for seven years toiled under; and your whole business is to pick ill-natured conjectures out of my harmless freedom of conversation, to vex and gall me with, as often as you are pleased to divert yourself at the expense of my quiet. O thou tormenter! Could I think it were jealousy, how should I humble myself to be justified! But I cannot bear the thought of being made a property either of another man's good fortune or the vanity of a woman that designs nothing but to plague me.
There may be means found, some time or other, to let you know your mistaking.
You were pleased to send me word you would meet me in the Mall this evening, and give me further satisfaction in the matter you were so unkind to charge me with: I was there, but found you not; and therefore beg of you, as you ever would wish yourself to be eased of the highest torment it were possible for your nature to be sensible of, to let me see you some time to-morrow, and send me word, by this bearer, where, and at what hour, you will be so just as either to acquit or condemn me; that I may, hereafter, for your sake, either bless all your bewitching sex, or, as often as I henceforth think of you, curse womankind for ever.
The End.