_Pier._ I must confess, you there have touch'd 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 chang'd a vow to live and die together, And he's at hand to ratify it here.

_Ren._ How! all betray'd!

_Pier._ No--I've n.o.bly dealt with you; I've brought my all into the public stock: I've but one friend, and him I'll share among you: Receive and cherish him; or if, when seen And search'd, you find him worthless,--as my tongue Has lodg'd 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.

_Jaf._ I know you'll wonder all, that, thus uncall'd, I dare approach this place of fatal councils; But I'm amongst you, and by heav'n 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 curs'd a.s.sembled 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 th' a.r.s.enal, and set its gates on fire.

_Ren._ You talk this well, sir.

_Jaf._ Nay--by heaven I'll do this.

Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces; You fear me villain, and, indeed, it's 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 councils.

I hate this senate, am a foe to Venice; A friend to none, but men resolv'd 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 lov'd these huggers.

_Jaf._ Still I see The cause delights ye not. Your friends survey me As I were dangerous--But I come arm'd Against all doubts, and to your trust will give A pledge, worth more than all the world can pay for.

My Belvidera. Hoa; my Belvidera!

_Bed._ What wonder's next?

_Jaf._ Let me entreat you, As I have henceforth hopes to call you friends, That all but the amba.s.sador, and this Grave guide of councils, with my friend that owns me, Withdraw awhile, to spare a woman's blushes.

[_exeunt all but Bedamar, Renault, Jaffier, and Pierre._

_Enter Belvidera._

_Bed._ Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead us?

_Jaf._ My Belvidera! Belvidera!

_Bel._ 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?

_Jaf._ Indeed 'tis late.

_Bel._ 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!

Heav'ns guard my love, and bless his heart with patience.

_Jaf._ That I have patience, let our fate bear witness, Who has ordain'd it so, that thou and I (Thou, the divinest good man e'er possess'd, And I, the wretched'st of the race of man) This very hour, without one tear, must part.

_Bel._ Part! must we part? Oh, am I then forsaken?

Why drag you from me? Whither are you going?

My dear! my life! my love!

_Jaf._ Oh, friends!

_Bel._ Speak to me.

_Jaf._ Take her from my heart, She'll gain such hold else, I shall ne'er get loose.

I charge thee take her, but with tender'st care Relieve her troubles, and a.s.suage her sorrows.

_Ren._ Rise, madam, and command amongst your servants.

_Jaf._ 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 pa.s.sionate vows of still increasing love, Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.

_Bel._ Nay, take my life, since he has sold it cheaply.

O! thou unkind one; Never meet more! have I deserv'd this from you; Look on me, tell me, speak, thou fair 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-- [_ex. Ren. Bed. and Bel._

_Jaf._ Oh! my eyes, Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile Into my heart, and be wean'd altogether.

My friend, where art thou?

_Pier._ Here, my honour's brother.

_Jaf._ Is Belvidera gone?

_Pier._ Renault has led her Back to her own apartment; but, by heav'n, Thou must not see her more, till our work's over.

_Jaf._ No!

_Pier._ Not for your life.

_Jaf._ Oh, Pierre, wert thou but she, How I would pull thee down into my heart, Gaze on thee, till my eye-strings crack'd with love; Then, swelling, sighing, raging to be blest, Come like a panting turtle to thy breast; On thy soft bosom hovering, bill and play, Confess the cause why last I fled away; Own 'twas a fault, but swear to give it o'er, And never follow false ambition more. [_exeunt._

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I. A CHAMBER.

_Enter Belvidera._