Chapter 3

_Enter Renault._

_Ren._ Why was my choice ambition? the worst ground A wretch can build on! It's, indeed, at distance, A goodly prospect, tempting to the view; The height delights us, and the mountain top Looks beautiful, because it's nigh to heav'n. But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundation, What storm will batter, and what tempest shake us. Who's there?

_Enter Spinosa._

_Spin._ Renault, good morrow, for by this time I think the scale of night has turn'd the balance, And weighs up morning! Has the clock struck twelve?

_Ren._ Yes! clocks will go as they are set; but man, Irregular man's ne'er constant, never certain: I've spent at least three precious hours of darkness In waiting dull attendance: 'tis the curse Of diligent virtue to be mix'd, like mine, With giddy tempers, souls but half resolv'd.

_Spin._ Hell seize that soul amongst us it can frighten.

_Ren._ What's then the cause that I am here alone? Why are we not together?

_Enter Elliott._

O, sir, welcome! You are an Englishman: when treason's hatching, One might have thought you'd not have been behindhand. In what whore's lap have you been lolling? Give but an Englishman his whore and ease, Beef, and a sea-coal fire, he's yours for ever.

_Ell._ Frenchman, you are saucy.

_Ren._ How!

_Enter Bedamar, the Ambassador; Theodore, Bramveil, Durand, Brabe, Revillido, Mezzana, Ternon, and Retrosi, Conspirators._

_Bed._ At difference; fie! Is this a time for quarrels? Thieves and rogues Fall out and brawl: should men of your high calling, Men separated by the choice of Providence From the gross heap of mankind, and set here In this assembly as in one great jewel, T' adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smil'd on; Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles?

_Ren._ Boys!

_Bed._ Renault, thy hand.

_Ren._ I thought I'd given my heart Long since to every man that mingles here; But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers, That can't forgive my froward age its weakness.

_Bed._ Elliott, thou once hadst virtue. I have seen Thy stubborn temper bend with godlike goodness, Not half thus courted. 'Tis thy nation's glory To hug the foe that offers brave alliance. Once more embrace, my friends--we'll all embrace. United thus, we are the mighty engine Must twist this rooted empire from its basis. Totters not it already?

_Ell._ Would 'twere tumbling.

_Bed._ Nay, it shall down; this night we seal its ruin.

_Enter Pierre._

Oh, Pierre, thou art welcome. Come to my breast, for by its hopes thou look'st Lovelily dreadful, and the fate of Venice Seems on thy sword already. Oh, my Mars! The poets that first feign'd a god of war, Sure prophesied of thee.

_Pier._ Friend, was not Brutus (I mean that Brutus, who in open senate Stabb'd the first Cæsar that usurp'd the world), A gallant man?

_Ren._ Yes, and Catiline too; Though story wrong his fame: for he conspir'd To prop the reeling glory of his country: His cause was good.

_Bed._ And ours as much above it, As, Renault, thou'rt superior to Cethegus, Or Pierre to Cassius.

_Pier._ Then to what we aim at. When do we start? or must we talk for ever?

_Bed._ No, Pierre, the deed's near birth; fate seems to have set The business up, and given it to our care; I hope there's not a heart or hand amongst us, But is firm and ready.

_All._ All. We'll die with Bedamar.

_Bed._ O men Matchless! as will your glory be hereafter: The game is for a matchless prize, if won; If lost, disgraceful ruin.

_Pier._ Ten thousand men are armed at your nod, Commanded all by leaders fit to guide A battle for the freedom of the world: This wretched state has starv'd them in its service; And, by your bounty quicken'd, they're resolved To serve your glory, and revenge their own: They've all their different quarters in this city, Watch for th' alarm, and grumble 'tis so tardy.

_Bed._ I doubt not, friend, but thy unwearied diligence Has still kept waking, and it shall have ease; After this night it is resolv'd we meet No more, till Venice owns us for her lords.

_Pier._ How lovelily the Adriatic whore, Dress'd in her flames, will shine! Devouring flames Such as shall burn her to the watery bottom, And hiss in her foundation.

_Bed._ Now if any Amongst us, that owns this glorious cause, Have friends or interest he'd wish to save, Let it be told: the general doom is seal'd; But I'd forego the hopes of a world's empire, Rather than wound the bowels of my friend.

_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 nobly 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 assembled 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' arsenal, 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 ambassador, 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 assuage 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 passionate 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.