SCENE I.--_A Public Place.

_Enter_ JAFFIER _and_ BELVIDERA.

Jaff. Where dost thou lead me? Every step I move, Methinks I tread upon some mangled limb Of a racked friend. O my dear charming ruin! Where are we wandering?

_Belv._ To eternal honour; To do a deed shall chronicle thy name Among the glorious legends of those few That have saved sinking nations: thy renown Shall be the future song of all the virgins, Who by thy piety have been preserved From horrid violation; every street Shall be adorned with statues to thy honour, And at thy feet this great inscription written, "Remember him that propped the fall of Venice."

_Jaff._ Rather remember him who, after all The sacred bonds of oaths and holier friendship, In fond compassion to a woman's tears, Forgot his manhood, virtue, truth, and honour, To sacrifice the bosom that relieved him. Why wilt thou damn me?

_Belv._ O inconstant man! How will you promise! how will you deceive! Do, return back, replace me in my bondage; Tell all thy friends how dangerously thou lovest me; And let thy dagger do its bloody office. O, that kind dagger, Jaffier, how 'twill look Stuck through my heart, drenched in my blood to the hilts! Whilst these poor dying eyes shall with their tears No more torment thee;--then thou wilt be free. Or if thou think'st it nobler, let me live Till I'm a victim to the hateful lust Of that infernal devil, that old fiend That's damned himself, and would undo mankind. Last night, my love!

_Jaff._ Name, name it not again; It shows a beastly image to my fancy, Will wake me into madness. O, the villain That durst approach such purity as thine On terms so vile! Destruction, swift destruction Fall on my coward head, and make my name The common scorn of fools, if I forgive him! If I forgive him! if I not revenge With utmost rage, and most unstaying fury, Thy suffering, dear darling of my life.

_Belv._ Delay no longer then, but to the Senate; And tell the dismallest story ever uttered; Tell them what bloodshed, rapines, desolations, Have been prepared; how near's the fatal hour; Save thy poor country, save the reverend blood Of all its nobles, which to-morrow's dawn Must else see shed; save the poor tender lives Of all those little infants which the swords Of murderers are whetting for this moment; Think thou already hear'st their dying screams, Think that thou seest their sad distracted mothers Kneeling before thy feet, and begging pity, With torn dishevelled hair and streaming eyes, Their naked mangled breasts besmeared with blood, And even the milk, with which their fondled babes Softly they hushed, dropping in anguish from them: Think thou seest this, and then consult thy heart.

_Jaff._ Oh!

_Belv._ Think, too, if thou lose this present minute, What miseries the next day brings upon thee. Imagine all the horrors of that night, Murder and rapine, waste and desolation, Confusedly ranging. Think what then may prove My lot! The ravisher may then come safe, And, 'midst the terror of the public ruin, Do a damned deed; perhaps too lay a train May catch thy life: then where will be revenge, The dear revenge that's due to such a wrong?

_Jaff._ By all Heaven's powers, prophetic truth dwells in thee, For every word thou speak'st strikes through my heart Like a new light, and shows it how it has wandered; Just what thou'st made me, take me, Belvidera, And lead me to the place where I'm to say This bitter lesson; where I must betray My truth, my virtue, constancy, and friends:-- Must I betray my friend? Ah! take me quickly, Secure me well before that thought's renewed; If I relapse once more, all's lost for ever.

_Belv._ Hast thou a friend more dear than Belvidera?

_Jaff._ No; thou'rt my soul itself; wealth, friendship, honour, All present joys and earnest of all future, Are summed in thee: methinks, when in thy arms Thus leaning on thy breast, one minute's more Than a long thousand years of vulgar hours. Why was such happiness not given me pure? Why dashed with cruel wrongs, and bitter wantings? Come, lead me forward now, like a tame lamb To sacrifice. Thus in his fatal garlands, Decked fine and pleased, the wanton skips and plays, Trots by the enticing flattering priestess' side, And, much transported with his little pride, Forgets his dear companions of the plain; Till, by her bound, he's on the altar lain, Yet then too hardly bleats, such pleasure's in the pain.

_Enter_ Officer _and six_ Guards.

_Offi._ Stand; who goes there?

_Belv._ Friends.

_Jaff._ Friends, Belvidera! hide me from my friends. By Heaven, I'd rather see the face of hell Than meet the man I love.

_Offi._ But what friends are you?

_Belv._ Friends to the Senate and the state of Venice.

_Offi._ My orders are, to seize on all I find At this late hour, and bring them to the Council, Who now are sitting.

_Jaff._ Sir, you shall be obeyed. Hold, brutes! stand off, none of your paws upon me. Now the lot's cast, and, fate, do what thou wilt. [_Exeunt._