SCENE I.--_Before_ PRIULI'S _house_.

_Enter_ PRIULI.

_Priu._ Why, cruel Heaven, have my unhappy days Been lengthened to this sad one? Oh! dishonour And deathless infamy is fallen upon me. Was it my fault? Am I a traitor? No. But then, my only child, my daughter wedded; There my best blood runs foul, and a disease Incurable has seized upon my memory, To make it rot and stink to after ages. Cursed be the fatal minute when I got her! Or would that I'd been anything but man, And raised an issue which would ne'er have wronged me! The miserablest creatures (man excepted) Are not the less esteemed, though their posterity Degenerate from the virtues of their fathers; The vilest beasts are happy in their offsprings; While only man gets traitors, whores, and villains. Cursed be the names, and some swift blow from fate Lay his head deep, where mine may be forgotten!

_Enter_ BELVIDERA _in a long mourning veil_.

_Belv._ [_Aside._] He's there, my father, my inhuman father, That, for three years, has left an only child Exposed to all the outrages of fate And cruel ruin--Oh!

_Priu._ What child of sorrow Art thou, that comest thus wrapped in weeds of sadness, And movest as if thy steps were towards a grave?

_Belv._ A wretch, who from the very top of happiness, Am fallen into the lowest depths of misery, And want your pitying hand to raise me up again.

_Priu._ Indeed, thou talk'st as thou hadst tasted sorrows; Would I could help thee.

_Belv._ 'Tis greatly in your power; The world, too, speaks you charitable; and I, Who ne'er asked alms before, in that dear hope Am come a-begging to you, sir.

_Priu._ For what?

_Belv._ Oh, well regard me; is this voice a strange one? Consider, too, when beggars once pretend A case like mine, no little will content them.

_Priu._ What wouldst thou beg for?

_Belv._ Pity and forgiveness. [_Throws up her veil._ By the kind tender names of child and father, Hear my complaints, and take me to your love.

_Priu._ My daughter!

_Belv._ Yes, your daughter, by a mother Virtuous and noble, faithful to your honour, Obedient to your will, kind to your wishes, Dear to your arms: by all the joys she gave you, When in her blooming years she was your treasure, Look kindly on me; in my face behold The lineaments of hers you've kissed so often, Pleading the cause of your poor cast-off child.

_Priu._ Thou art my daughter.

_Belv._ Yes;--and you've oft told me With smiles of love, and chaste paternal kisses, I'd much resemblance of my mother.

_Priu._ Oh! Hadst thou inherited her matchless virtues, I'd been too blest.

_Belv._ Nay, do not call to memory My disobedience, but let pity enter Into your heart, and quite deface the impression; For could you think how mine's perplexed, what sadness, Fears, and despairs distract the peace within me, Oh! you would take me in your dear, dear arms, Hover with strong compassion o'er your young one, To shelter me with a protecting wing, From the black gathered storm, that's just, just breaking.

_Priu._ Don't talk thus.

_Belv._ Yes, I must, and you must hear too. I have a husband--

_Priu._ Damn him!

_Belv._ Oh! do not curse him; He would not speak so hard a word towards you On any terms, howe'er he deal with me.

_Priu._ Ha! what means my child?

_Bel._ Oh, there's but this short moment 'Twixt me and fate: yet send me not with curses Down to my grave; afford me one kind blessing Before we part; just take me in your arms, And recommend me with a prayer to Heaven, That I may die in peace; and when I'm dead--

_Priu._ How my soul's catched!

_Belv._ Lay me, I beg you, lay me By the dear ashes of my tender mother: She would have pitied me, had fate yet spared her.

_Priu._ By Heaven, my aching heart forebodes much mischief. Tell me thy story, for I'm still thy father.

_Belv._ No, I'm contented,

_Priu._ Speak.

_Belv._ No matter.

_Priu._ Tell me. By yon blest Heaven, my heart runs o'er with fondness!

_Belv._ Oh!

_Priu._ Utter it.

_Belv._ Oh, my husband, my dear husband Carries a dagger in his once kind bosom, To pierce the heart of your poor Belvidera.

_Priu._ Kill thee?

_Belv._ Yes, kill me. When he passed his faith And covenant against your state and Senate, He gave me up as hostage for his truth; With me a dagger, and a dire commission, Whene'er he failed, to plunge it through this bosom. I learnt the danger, chose the hour of love To attempt his heart, and bring it back to honour. Great Love prevailed, and blessed me with success; He came, confessed, betrayed his dearest friends For promised mercy. Now they're doomed to suffer, Galled with remembrance of what then was sworn, If they are lost, he vows to appease the gods With this poor life, and make my blood the atonement.

_Priu._ Heavens!

_Belv._ Think you saw what passed at our last parting; Think you beheld him like a raging lion, Pacing the earth, and tearing up his steps, Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain Of burning fury; think you saw his one hand Fixed on my throat, whilst the extended other Grasped a keen threatening dagger; oh! 'twas thus We last embraced; when, trembling with revenge, He dragged me to the ground, and at my bosom Presented horrid death; cried out "My friends! Where are my friends?" swore, wept, raged, threatened, loved; For he yet loved, and that dear love preserved me To this last trial of a father's pity. I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought That that dear hand should do the unfriendly office. If I was ever then your care, now hear me; Fly to the Senate, save the promised lives Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.

_Priu._ Oh, my heart's comfort!

_Belv._ Will you not, my father? Weep not, but answer me.

_Priu._ By Heaven, I will. Not one of them but what shall be immortal. Canst thou forgive me all my follies past? I'll henceforth be indeed a father; never, Never more thus expose, but cherish thee, Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life; Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee. Peace to thy heart! Farewell.

_Belv._ Go, and remember 'Tis Belvidera's life her father pleads for. [_Exeunt severally._

_Enter_ ANTONIO.

_Ant._ Hum, hum, hah; Signior Priuli, my lord Priuli, my lord, my lord, my lord! How we lords love to call one another by our titles! My lord, my lord, my lord--Pox on him! I am a lord as well as he; and so let him fiddle. I'll warrant him he's gone to the Senate-house, and I'll be there too, soon enough for somebody. Odd! here's a tickling speech about the plot; I'll prove there's a plot with a vengeance--would I had it without book; let me see:--"Most reverend senators,--That there is a plot, surely by this time, no man that hath eyes or understanding in his head will presume to doubt; 'tis as plain as the light in the cucumber"--no--hold there--cucumber does not come in yet--"'tis as plain as the light in the sun, or as the man in the moon, even at noon-day: it is indeed a pumpkin-plot, which, just as it was mellow, we have gathered, and now we have gathered it, prepared and dressed it, shall we throw it like a pickled cucumber out at the window? no: that it is not only a bloody, horrid, execrable, damnable and audacious plot; but it is, as I may so say, a saucy plot; and we all know, most reverend fathers, that what is sauce for a goose is sauce for a gander: therefore, I say, as those blood-thirsty ganders of the conspiracy would have destroyed us geese of the Senate, let us make haste to destroy them; so I humbly move for hanging." Ha, hurry durry! I think this will do; though I was something out, at first, about the sun and the cucumber.

_Enter_ AQUILINA.

_Aquil._ Good-morrow, senator.

_Ant._ Nacky, my dear Nacky! 'morrow, Nacky! Odd! I am very brisk, very merry, very pert, very jovial--ha-a-a-a-a--kiss me, Nacky; how dost thou do, my little tory rory strumpet? Kiss me, I say, hussy, kiss me.

_Aquil._ Kiss me, Nacky! hang you, sir coxcomb, hang you, sir!

_Ant._ Hayty tayty, is it so indeed? with all my heart, faith! "Hey then up go we,"[77] faith--"hey then up go we," dum dum derum dump. [_Sings._

_Aquil._ Signior.

_Ant._ Madonna.

_Aquil._ Do you intend to die in your bed?

_Ant._ About threescore years hence much may be done, my dear.

_Aquil._ You'll be hanged, signior.

_Ant._ Hanged, sweetheart! pr'ythee be quiet: hanged quoth-a! that's a merry conceit, with all my heart; why, thou jokest, Nacky; thou art given to joking, I'll swear; well, I protest, Nacky, nay, I must protest, and will protest, that I love joking dearly, mun. And I love thee for joking, and I'll kiss thee for joking, and towze thee for joking; and odd, I have a devilish mind to take thee aside about that business for joking too; odd I have, and, "Hey then up go we," dum dum derum dump. [_Sings._

_Aquil._ See you this, sir? [_Draws a dagger._

_Ant._ O laud, a dagger! O laud! it is naturally my aversion, I cannot endure the sight on't; hide it, for Heaven's sake, I cannot look that way till it be gone--hide it, hide it, oh, oh, hide it!

_Aquil._ Yes, in your heart I'll hide it.

_Ant._ My heart! what, hide a dagger in my heart's blood?

_Aquil._ Yes, in thy heart, thy throat, thou pampered devil; Thou'st helped to spoil my peace, and I'll have vengeance On 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, thy lord, 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.

_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._