SCENE II.--_Another Room in the same.

_Enter_ BELVIDERA.

_Belv._ I'm sacrificed! I'm sold! betrayed to shame! Inevitable ruin has inclosed me! No sooner was I to my bed repaired, To weigh and (weeping) ponder my condition, But the old hoary wretch, to whose false care My peace and honour was entrusted came, Like Tarquin, ghastly with infernal lust. O thou Roman Lucrece! Thou couldst find friends to vindicate thy wrong; I never had but one, and he's proved false; He that should guard my virtue, has betrayed it; Left me! undone me! oh, that I could hate him! Where shall I go? oh, whither, whither wander?

_Enter_ JAFFIER.

_Jaff._ Can Belvidera want a resting-place, When these poor arms are open to receive her? Oh, 'tis in vain to struggle with desires Strong as my love to thee; for every moment I'm from thy sight, the heart within my bosom Moans like a tender infant in its cradle, Whose nurse had left it: come, and with the songs Of gentle love, persuade it to its peace.

_Belv._ I fear the stubborn wanderer will not own me; 'Tis grown a rebel to be ruled no longer, Scorns the indulgent bosom that first lulled it; And, like a disobedient child, disdains The soft authority of Belvidera.

_Jaff._ There was a time--

_Belv._ Yes, yes, there was a time When Belvidera's tears, her cries, and sorrows, Were not despised; when if she chanced to sigh, Or look but sad--there was indeed a time When Jaffier would have ta'en her in his arms, Eased her declining head upon his breast, And never left her till he found the cause. But let her now weep seas, Cry till she rend the earth, sigh till she burst Her heart asunder; still he bears it all, Deaf as the wind, and as the rocks unshaken.

_Jaff._ Have I been deaf? am I that rock unmoved, Against whose root tears beat, and sighs are sent In vain? have I beheld thy sorrows calmly? Witness against me, Heavens, have I done this? Then bear me in a whirlwind back again, And let that angry dear one ne'er forgive me! Oh, thou too rashly censurest[70] of my love! Couldst thou but think how I have spent this night, Dark and alone, no pillow to my head, Rest in my eyes, nor quiet in my heart, Thou wouldst not, Belvidera, sure thou wouldst not Talk to me thus; but like a pitying angel, Spreading thy wings, come settle on my breast, And hatch warm comfort there, ere sorrows freeze it.

_Belv._ Why then, poor mourner, in what baleful corner Hast thou been talking with that witch the Night? On what cold stone hast thou been stretched along, Gathering the grumbling winds about thy head, To mix with theirs the accents of thy woes? Oh, now I find the cause my love forsakes me! I am no longer fit to bear a share In his concernments: my weak female virtue Must not be trusted; 'tis too frail and tender.

_Jaff._ O Portia! Portia! what a soul was thine!

_Belv._ That Portia was a woman; and when Brutus, Big with the fate of Rome--Heaven guard thy safety!-- Concealed from her the labours of his mind, She let him see her blood was great as his, Flowed from a spring as noble, and a heart Fit to partake his troubles as his love. Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower Thou gavest last night in parting with me; strike it Here to my heart; and as the blood flows from it, Judge if it run not pure as Cato's daughter's.

_Jaff._ Thou art too good, and I indeed unworthy, Unworthy so much virtue: teach me how I may deserve such matchless love as thine, And see with what attention I'll obey thee.

_Belv._ Do not despise me: that's the all I ask.

_Jaff._ Despise thee! hear me--

_Belv._ Oh, thy charming tongue Is but too well acquainted with my weakness; Knows, let it name but love, my melting heart Dissolves within my breast; till with closed eyes I reel into thy arms, and all's forgotten.

_Jaff._ What shall I do?

_Belv._ Tell me--be just, and tell me, Why dwells that busy cloud upon thy face? Why am I made a stranger? why that sigh, And I not know the cause? why when the world Is wrapped in rest, why chooses then my love To wander up and down in horrid darkness, Loathing his bed, and these desiring arms? Why are these eyes blood-shot with tedious watching? Why starts he now, and looks as if he wished His fate were finished? Tell me, ease my fear, Lest, when we next time meet, I want the power To search into the sickness of thy mind, But talk as wildly then as thou look'st now.

_Jaff._ O Belvidera!

_Belv._ Why was I last night Delivered to a villain?

_Jaff._ Ha, a villain!

_Belv._ Yes! to a villain! Why at such an hour Meets that assembly, all made up of wretches That look as hell had drawn them into league? Why, I in this hand, and in that a dagger, Was I delivered with such dreadful ceremonies?-- "To you, sirs, and your honour, I bequeath her, And with her this: whene'er I prove unworthy-- You know the rest--then strike it to her heart!" Oh! why's that "rest" concealed from me? Must I Be made the hostage of a hellish trust?-- For such I know I am; that's all my value! But by the love and loyalty I owe thee, I'll free thee from the bondage of these slaves; Straight to the Senate, tell them all I know, All that I think, all that my fears inform me!

_Jaff._ Is this the Roman virtue? this the blood That boasts its purity with Cato's daughter? Would she have e'er betrayed her Brutus?

_Belv._ No; For Brutus trusted her: wert thou so kind, What would not Belvidera suffer for thee?

_Jaff._ I shall undo myself, and tell thee all.

_Belv._ Look not upon me as I am a woman, But as a bone, thy wife, thy friend, who long Has had admission to thy heart, and there Studied the virtues of thy gallant nature: Thy constancy, thy courage, and thy truth, Have been my daily lesson; I have learnt them, Am bold as thou, can suffer or despise The worst of fates for thee; and with thee share them.

_Jaff._ Oh, you divinest powers! look down and hear My prayers! instruct me to reward this virtue! Yet think a little, ere thou tempt me further; Think I've a tale to tell will shake thy nature, Melt all this boasted constancy thou talk'st of, Into vile tears and despicable sorrows: Then if thou shouldst betray me!

_Belv._ Shall I swear?

_Jaff._ No; do not swear,--I would not violate Thy tender nature with so rude a bond,-- But as thou hopest to see me live my days, And love thee long, lock this within thy breast:-- I've bound myself by all the strictest sacraments, Divine and human--

_Belv._ Speak!

_Jaff._ To kill thy father.

_Belv._ My father!

_Jaff._ Nay, the throats of the whole Senate Shall bleed, my Belvidera: he amongst us That spares his father, brother, or his friend, Is damned. How rich and beauteous will the face Of ruin look, when these wide streets run blood, I and the glorious partners of my fortune Shouting, and striding o'er the prostrate dead, Still to new waste; whilst thou, far off in safety Smiling, shall see the wonders of our daring; And when night comes, with praise and love receive me!

_Belv._ Oh!

_Jaff._ Have a care, and shrink not, even in thought! For if thou dost--

_Belv._ I know it, thou wilt kill me. Do, strike thy sword into this bosom: lay me Dead on the earth, and then thou wilt be safe. Murder my father! though his cruel nature Has persecuted me to my undoing, Driven me to basest wants, can I behold him, With smiles of vengeance, butchered in his age? The sacred fountain of my life destroyed? And canst thou shed the blood that gave me being? Nay, be a traitor too, and sell thy country? Can thy great heart descend so vilely low, Mix with hired slaves, bravos, and common stabbers, Nose-slitters, alley-lurking villains--join With such a crew, and take a ruffian's wages, To cut the throats of wretches as they sleep?

_Jaff._ Thou wrong'st me, Belvidera! I've engaged With men of souls, fit to reform the ills Of all mankind: there's not a heart amongst them, But's stout as death, yet honest as the nature Of man first made, ere fraud and vice were fashions.

_Belv._ What's he to whose cursed hands last night thou gavest me? Was that well done? Oh! I could tell a story Would rouse thy lion-heart out of its den, And make it rage with terrifying fury.

_Jaff._ Speak on, I charge thee!

_Belv._ O my love! if e'er Thy Belvidera's peace deserved thy care, Remove me from this place--last night, last night!

_Jaff._ Distract me not, but give me all the truth.

_Belv._ No sooner wert thou gone, and I alone, Left in the power of that old son of mischief; No sooner was I lain on my sad bed, But that vile wretch approached me, loose, unbuttoned, Ready for violation: then my heart Throbbed with its fears: oh, how I wept and sighed, And shrunk and trembled, wished in vain for him That should protect me! Thou, alas! wert gone.

_Jaff._ Patience, sweet Heaven! till I make vengeance sure.

_Belv._ He drew the hideous dagger forth thou gavest him, And with upbraiding smiles, he said, "Behold it; This is the pledge of a false husband's love": And in my arms then pressed, and would have clasped me; But with my cries I scared his coward-heart, Till he withdrew, and muttered vows to hell. These are thy friends! with these thy life, thy honour, Thy love, all's staked, and all will go to ruin!

_Jaff._ No more: I charge thee keep this secret close; Clear up thy sorrows, look as if thy wrongs Were all forgot, and treat him like a friend, As no complaint were made. No more; retire, Retire, my life, and doubt not of my honour; I'll heal its failings and deserve thy love.

_Belv._ Oh, should I part with thee, I fear thou wilt In anger leave me, and return no more.

_Jaff._ Return no more! I would not live without thee Another night, to purchase the creation.

_Belv._ When shall we meet again?

_Jaff._ Anon, at twelve: I'll steal myself to thy expecting arms, Come like a travelled dove, and bring thee peace.

_Belv._ Indeed?

_Jaff._ By all our loves!

_Belv._ 'Tis hard to part: But sure no falsehood ever looked so fairly. Farewell--remember twelve. [_Exit._

_Jaff._ Let Heaven forget me When I remember not thy truth, thy love. How cursed is my condition! tossed and justled From every corner; fortune's common fool, The jest of rogues, an instrumental ass For villains to lay loads of shame upon, And drive about just for their ease and scorn.

_Enter_ PIERRE.

_Pier._ Jaffier!

_Jaff._ Who calls?

_Pier._ A friend, that could have wished To have found thee otherwise employed: what, hunt A wife on the dull foil! sure a staunch husband Of all hounds is the dullest. Wilt thou never, Never be weaned from caudles and confections? What feminine tale hast thou been listening to Of unaired shirts, catarrhs and toothache got By thin-soled shoes? Damnation! that a fellow, Chosen to be a sharer in the destruction Of a whole people, should sneak thus in corners To ease his fulsome lusts, and fool his mind!

_Jaff._ May not a man then trifle out an hour With a kind woman, and not wrong his calling?

_Pier._ Not in a cause like ours.

_Jaff._ Then, friend, our cause Is in a damned condition: for I'll tell thee, That canker-worm called lechery has touched it; 'Tis tainted vilely. Wouldst thou think it, Renault. (That mortified, old, withered, winter-rogue) Loves simple fornication like a priest? I found him out for watering at my wife: He visited her last night, like a kind guardian. Faith, she has some temptations, that's the truth on't.

_Pier._ He durst not wrong his trust?

_Jaff._ 'Twas something late, though, To take the freedom of a lady's chamber.

_Pier._ Was she in bed?

_Jaff._ Yes, faith, in virgin sheets White as her bosom, Pierre, dished neatly up, Might tempt a weaker appetite to taste. Oh, how the old fox stunk, I warrant thee, When the rank fit was on him!

_Pier._ Patience guide me! He used no violence?

_Jaff._ No, no! out on't, violence! Played with her neck, brushed her with his gray beard, Struggled and towzed, tickled her till she squeaked a little, May be, or so--but not a jot of violence.

_Pier._ Damn him!

_Jaff._ Ay, so say I: but hush, no more on't; All hitherto is well, and I believe Myself no monster,[71] yet: though no man knows What fate he's born to. Sure 'tis near the hour We all should meet for our concluding orders. Will the ambassador be here in person?

_Pier._ No; he has sent commission to that villain, Renault, to give the executing charge; I'd have thee be a man, if possible, And keep thy temper; for a brave revenge Ne'er comes too late.

_Jaff._ Fear not, I'm cool as patience: Had he completed my dishonour, rather Than hazard the success our hopes are ripe for, I'd bear it all with mortifying virtue.

_Pier._ He's yonder coming this way through the hall; His thoughts seem full.

_Jaff._ Pr'ythee retire, and leave me With him alone: I'll put him to some trial, See how his rotten part will bear the touching.

_Pier._ Be careful then. [_Exit._

_Jaff._ Nay, never doubt, but trust me.-- What, be a devil! take a damning oath For shedding native blood! can there be a sin In merciful repentance? O this villain!

_Enter_ RENAULT.

_Ren._ Perverse! and peevish! what a slave is man, To let his itching flesh thus get the better of him! Despatch the tool her husband--that were well-- Who's there?

_Jaff._ A man.

_Ren._ My friend, my near ally! The hostage of your faith, my beauteous charge Is very well.

_Jaff._ Sir, are you sure of that? Stands she in perfect health? beats her pulse even? Neither too hot nor cold?

_Ren._ What means that question?

_Jaff._ Oh, women have fantastic constitutions, Inconstant as their wishes, always wavering, And never fixed. Was it not boldly done, Even at first sight to trust the thing I loved-- A tempting treasure too!--with youth so fierce And vigorous as thine?--but thou art honest.

_Ren._ Who dares accuse me?

_Jaff._ Cursed be him that doubts Thy virtue! I have tried it, and declare, Were I to choose a guardian of my honour, I'd put it in thy keeping; for I know thee.

_Ren._ Know me?

_Jaff._ Ay, know thee: there's no falsehood in thee, Thou look'st just as thou art: let us embrace. Now wouldst thou cut my throat, or I cut thine?

_Ren._ You dare not do it.

_Jaff._ You lie, sir.

_Ren._ How!

_Jaff._ No more. 'Tis a base world, and must reform, that's all.

_Enter_ SPINOSA, THEODORE, ELIOT, REVILLIDO, DURAND, BRAINVILLE, _and the rest of the_ _Conspirators._

_Ren._ Spinosa! Theodore!

_Spin._ The same.

_Ren._ You are welcome!

_Spin._ You are trembling, sir.

_Ren._ 'Tis a cold night indeed, I am aged, Full of decay and natural infirmities: We shall be warm, my friend, I hope, to-morrow.

_Re-enter_ PIERRE.

_Pier._ [_Aside to_ JAFFIER.] 'Twas not well done thou shouldst have strokèd him, And not have galled him.

_Jaff._ [_Aside to_ PIERRE.] Damn him! let him chew on it. Heaven! where am I? beset with cursèd fiends, That wait to damn me. What a devil's man, When he forgets his nature! Hush, my heart!

_Ren._ My friends, 'tis late; are we assembled all? Where's Theodore?

_Theo._ At hand.

_Ren._ Spinosa?

_Spin._ Here.

_Ren._ Brainville?

_Brain._ I'm ready.

_Ren._ Durand and Brabe?

_Dur._ Command us; We are both prepared.

_Ren._ Mezzana, Revillido, Ternon, Retrosi? oh, you're men, I find, Fit to behold your fate, and meet her summons; To-morrow's rising sun must see you all Decked in your honours! Are the soldiers ready?

_All._ All, all.

_Ren._[72] You, Durand, with your thousand, must possess St. Mark's; you, captain, know your charge already; 'Tis to secure the Ducal Palace; you, Brabe, with a hundred more, must gain the Secque; With the like number, Brainville, to the Procurale. Be all this done with the least tumult possible, Till in each place you post sufficient guards: Then sheathe your swords in every breast you meet.

_Jaff._ [_Aside._] O reverend cruelty! Damned bloody villain!

_Ren._ During this execution, Durand, you Must, in the midst, keep your battalia fast; And, Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon That may command the streets; whilst Revillido, Mezzana, Ternon, and Retrosi guard you. This done, we'll give the general alarm, Apply petards, and force the arsenal gates; Then fire the city round in several places, Or with our cannon, if it dare resist, Batter it to ruin. But, above all, I charge you, Shed blood enough, spare neither sex nor age, Name nor condition; if there live a senator After to-morrow, though the dullest rogue That e'er said nothing, we have lost our ends; If possible, let's kill the very name Of senator, and bury it in blood.

_Jaff._ [_Aside._] Merciless, horrid slave!--[_Aloud._] Ay, blood enough-- Shed blood enough, old Renault! how thou charm'st me!

_Ren._ But one thing more, and then farewell till fate Join us again, or separate us ever: First, let's embrace; Heaven knows who next shall thus Wing ye together: but let's all remember We wear no common cause upon our swords; Let each man think that on his single virtue Depends the good and fame of all the rest, Eternal honour or perpetual infamy. Let us remember, through what dreadful hazards Propitious fortune hitherto has led us; How often on the brink of some discovery Have we stood tottering, yet still kept our ground So well, the busiest searchers ne'er could follow Those subtle tracks which puzzled all suspicion. You droop, sir.

_Jaff._ No; with most profound attention I've heard it all, and wonder at thy virtue.

_Ren._ Though there be yet few hours 'twixt them and ruin, Are not the Senate lulled in full security, Quiet and satisfied, as fools are always? Never did so profound repose forerun Calamity so great: nay, our good fortune Has blinded the most piercing of mankind, Strengthened the fearfullest, charmed the most suspectful, Confounded the most subtle: for we live, We live, my friends, and quickly shall our life Prove fatal to these tyrants. Let's consider That we destroy oppression, avarice, A people nursed up equally with vices And loathsome lusts, which nature most abhors, And such as without shame she cannot suffer.

_Jaff._ O Belvidera, take me to thy arms, And show me where's my peace, for I have lost it. [_Exit._

_Ren._ Without the least remorse, then, let's resolve With fire and sword to exterminate these tyrants; And when we shall behold those cursed tribunals Stained by the tears and sufferings of the innocent, Burning with flames, rather from Heaven than ours; The raging, furious, and unpitying soldier Pulling his reeking dagger from the bosoms Of gasping wretches; death in every quarter, With all that sad disorder can produce, To make a spectacle of horror; then, Then let us call to mind, my dearest friends, That there is nothing pure upon the earth; That the most valued things have most allays,[73] And that in change of all those vile enormities, Under whose weight this wretched country labours, The means are only in our hands to cure them.

_Pier._ And may those powers above that are propitious To gallant minds record this cause, and bless it!

_Ren._ Thus happy, thus secure of all we wish for, Should there, my friends, be found amongst us one False to this glorious enterprise, what fate, What vengeance were enough for such a villain?

_Eliot._ Death here without repentance, hell hereafter.

_Ren._ Let that be my lot, if as here I stand, Listed by fate amongst her darling sons, Though I had one only brother, dear by all The strictest ties of nature; though one hour Had given us birth, one fortune fed our wants, One only love, and that but of each other, Still filled our minds,--could I have such a friend Joined in this cause, and had but ground to fear He meant foul play, may this right hand drop from me, If I'd not hazard all my future peace, And stab him to the heart before you. Who, Who would do less? wouldst not thou, Pierre, the same?

_Pier._ You've singled me, sir, out for this hard question, As if 'twere started only for my sake. Am I the thing you fear? Here, here's my bosom, Search it with all your swords! Am I a traitor?

_Ren._ No; but I fear your late-commended friend Is little less. Come, sirs, 'tis now no time To trifle with our safety. Where's this Jaffier?

_Spin._ He left the room just now in strange disorder.

_Ren._ Nay, there is danger in him: I observed him, During the time I took for explanation. He was transported from most deep attention To a confusion which he could not smother; His looks grew full of sadness and surprise, All which betrayed a wavering spirit in him, That laboured with reluctancy and sorrow. What's requisite for safety must be done With speedy execution: he remains Yet in our power: I for my own part wear A dagger.

_Pier._ Well.

_Ren._ And I could wish it--

_Pier._ Where?

_Ren._ Buried in his heart.

_Pier._ Away! we're yet all friends; No more of this, 'twill breed ill blood amongst us.

_Spin._ Let us all draw our swords, and search the house, Pull him from the dark hole where he sits brooding O'er his cold fears, and each man kill his share of him.

_Pier._ Who talks of killing? Who's he'll shed the blood That's dear to me? Is't you? or you? or you, sir? What, not one speak? how you stand gaping all On your grave oracle, your wooden god there! Yet not a word. Then, sir--[_To_ RENAULT]--I'll tell you a secret;-- Suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue!

_Ren._ A coward! [_Handles his sword._

_Pier._ Put, put up thy sword, old man, Thy hand shakes at it. Come, let's heal this breach, I am too hot; we yet may all live friends.

_Spin._ Till we are safe, our friendship cannot be so.

_Pier._ Again? who's that?

_Spin._ 'Twas I.

_Theo._ And I.

_Rev._ And I.

_Eliot._ And all.

_Ren._ Who are on my side?

_Spin._ Every honest sword. Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves.

_Pier._ One such word more, by Heaven, I'll to the Senate, And hang ye all like dogs in clusters. Why peep your coward swords half out their shells? Why do you not all brandish them like mine? You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing!

_Ren._ Go to the Senate and betray us; hasten, Secure thy wretched life; we fear to die Less than thou darest be honest.

_Pier._ That's rank falsehood. Fear'st not thou death? fie! there's a knavish itch In that salt blood, an utter foe to smarting. Had Jaffier's wife proved kind, he had still been true. Faugh! how that stinks! Thou die! thou kill my friend! or thou, or thou; Or thou, with that lean, withered, wretched face! Away! disperse all to your several charges, And meet to-morrow where your honour calls you; I'll bring that man whose blood you so much thirst for, And you shall see him venture for you fairly. Hence, hence, I say. [_Exit_ RENAULT _angrily_.

_Spin._ I fear we've been to blame, And done too much.

_Theo._ 'Twas too far urged against the man you loved.

_Rev._ Here, take our swords, and crush them with your feet.

_Spin._ Forgive us, gallant friend.

_Pier._ Nay, now you've found The way to melt and cast me as you will. I'll fetch this friend, and give him to your mercy: Nay, he shall die, if you will take him from me; For your repose, I'll quit my heart's jewel; But would not have him torn away by villains And spiteful villany.

_Spin._ No; may you both For ever live, and fill the world with fame!

_Pier._ Now you are too kind. Whence rose all this discord? Oh, what a dangerous precipice have we 'scaped! How near a fall was all we had long been building! What an eternal blot had stained our glories, If one, the bravest and the best of men, Had fallen a sacrifice to rash suspicion! Butchered by those whose cause he came to cherish! Oh, could you know him all as I have known him, How good he is, how just, how true, how brave, You would not leave this place till you had seen him, Humbled yourselves before him, kissed his feet, And gained remission for the worst of follies. Come but to-morrow, all your doubts shall end; And to your loves me better recommend, That I've preserved your fame, and saved my friend. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[68] The character of Antonio is a satire upon Sir Anthony Ashley-Cooper (b. 1621), one of the greatest Liberal statesmen of his time, but unscrupulous, machiavellic, and shifty. Mulgrave (_Essay on Satire_) calls him our little Machiavel; for his was the "fiery soul which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay" (Dryden's _Absalom_). He was first a Royalist, then a Parliamentarian, later contributed to the Restoration; after this a Tory, and finally a Whig. He was a member of the "Cabal" administration, and was created by Charles II. first Baron Ashley, and then Earl of Shaftesbury. He was Lord Chancellor in 1672, and to him we owe the Habeas Corpus Act; he also contributed materially to make our judges independent of the Crown. He persecuted the Catholics under pretext of the Popish Plot; promoted the Exclusion Bill against the Duke of York, afterwards James II., as a Catholic; and advocated Monmouth's (son of Charles II. by Lucy Walters) claim to legitimacy. In 1681 he was impeached and sent to the Tower on a charge of high treason, but acquitted. He was, however, forced to retire to Holland, where he died in 1683.

[69] This was precisely the age of Lord Shaftesbury. He died in the following year.

[70] Judgest.

[71] _i.e._ Cuckold.

[72] This scene, particularly the charge of Renault, is closely imitated from Saint-Réal.

[73] Alloys.

ACT THE FOURTH.