Venice Preserved | Page 5

good, And villains fatten with the brave
man's labours.
Pierre. [Returns to L. C.] We've neither safety, unity, nor peace, For the
foundation's lost of common good; Justice is lame, as well as blind,
amongst us; The laws (corrupted to their ends that make them,) Serve
but for instruments of some new tyranny, That every day starts up,
t'enslave us deeper. Now [Lays his hand on Jaffier's arm,] could this
glorious cause but find out friends To do it light, oh, Jaffier! then
might'st thou Not wear those seals of woe upon thy face; The proud
Priuli should be taught humanity, And learn to value such a son as thou
art. I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment.
Jaf. Cursed be the cause, though I, thy friend, be part on't: Let me
partake the troubles of thy bosom, For I am used to misery, and perhaps
May find a way to sweeten't to thy spirit.
Pierre. [Turns, L. and looks over a shoulder.] Too soon 'twill reach thy
knowledge--

Jaf. Then from thee Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship,
Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing, Strengthen my
constancy, and welcome ruin.
Pierre. Then thou art ruined!
Jaf. That I long since knew; I and ill fortune have been long acquainted.
Pierre. I passed this very moment by thy doors, And found them
guarded by a troop of villains; "The sons of public rapine were
destroying." They told me, by the sentence of the law They had
commission to seize all thy fortune: Nay, more, Priuli's cruel band had
signed it. Here stood a ruffian, with a horrid face, Lording it o'er a pile
of massy plate, Tumbled into a heap for public sale: There was another
making villainous jests At thy undoing: he had ta'en possession Of all
thy ancient, most domestic ornaments; Rich hangings, intermixed and
wrought with gold The very bed, which, on thy wedding night,
Received thee to the arms of Belvidera, The scene of all thy joys, was
violated By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains, And thrown
amongst the common lumber.
Jaf.Now, thank heaven--
Pierre. Thank heaven! for what?
Jaf.That I'm not worth a ducat.
Pierre. Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of Venice, Where
brothers, friends, and fathers, all are false; Where there's no truth, no
trust; where innocence Stoops under vile oppression, and vice lords it.
Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how, at last, Thy beauteous Belvidera,
like a wretch That's doomed to banishment, came weeping forth, Whilst
two young virgins, on whose arms she leaned, Kindly looked up, and at
her grief grew sad, As if they catched the sorrows that fell from her:
Ev'n the lewd rabble, that were gathered round To see the sight, stood
mute when they beheld her; Governed their roaring throats, and
grumbled pity: I could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased me.

Jaf. I thank thee for this story, from my soul; Since now I know the
worst that can befall me. Ah, Pierre! I have a heart that could have
borne The roughest wrong my fortune could have done me; But when I
think what Belvidera feels, The bitterness her tender spirits taste of, I
own myself a coward. Bear my weakness, If, throwing thus my arms
about thy neck, [Embrace, I play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom.
Oh, I shall drown thee with my sorrows.
Pierre. Burn, First, burn and level Venice to thy ruin. What! starve, like
beggars' brats, in frosty weather, Under a hedge, and whine ourselves to
death! Thou, or thy cause, shall never want assistance, Whilst I have
blood or fortune fit to serve thee: Command my heart, thour't every
way its master.
Jaf. No; there's a secret pride in bravely dying.
Pierre. Rats die in holes and corners, dogs run mad Man knows a
braver remedy for sorrow-- Revenge, the attribute of gods; they
stamped it, With their great image, on our natures. Die! Consider well
the cause that calls upon thee, And, if thou'rt base enough, die then.
Remember Thy Belvidera suffers; Belvidera! Die!--damn first!--What!
be decently interred In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust-- With
stinking rogues, that rot in winding-sheets, Surfeit-slain fools, the
common dung o'th' soil!
Jaf. Oh--
Pierre. Well said, out with't--swear a little--
Jaf. Swear! By sea and air; by earth, by heaven and hell, I will revenge
my Belvidera's tears! [Both go to the R. Hark thee, my
friend--Priuli--is--a senator!
Pierre. A dog!
Jaf. Agreed. [Return to C.
Pierre. Shoot him!

Jaf. With all my heart! No more--where shall we meet at night?
Pierre. I'll tell thee: On the Rialto, every night at twelve, I take my
evening's walk of meditation: There we two'll meet, and talk of
precious