Dar'st thou, presumptuous, to invade my rights! Or I will rend them from thy bleeding heart. Rox. Oh, sorceress! to thy accursed charms To them I owe my Alexander's loss: Too late thou tremblest at my just revenge, My wrongs cry out, and vengeance will have way. Rox. Add still, if possible, superior horrors. Therefore [Holds up the dagger. Stat. Hold, hold thy hand advanced in air: I read my sentence written in thine eyes; Yet oh, Roxana! on thy black revenge One kindly ray of female pity beam; And give me death in Alexander's presence. Rox. Not for the world's wide empire shouldst thou see him. Fool! but for him thou mightst unheeded live; Enter Slave. Slave. Madam, the king and all his guards are come, With frantic rage they thunder at the gate, And must ere this have gained admittance. Rox. Ha! Too long I've trifled. Let me then redeem The time misspent, and make great vengeance sure. And can he not preserve me from her fury? Rox. Nor he, nor Heaven, shall shield thee from my justice. Die, sorceress, die, and all my wrongs die with thee! [Stabs her. Thomas Otway. VENICE PRESERVED. JAFFIER, young Nobleman of Venice, of reduced Fortune, marries BELVIDERA, Daughter of PRIULI, a Senator of Venice, contrary to the wishes of her Father, who disinherits her. JAFFIER, in his destitution, solicits assistance from PRIULI, and is repelled with scorn and contumely by the enraged Father. While smarting with the sense of his degradation, JAFFIER is met by his Friend PIERRE, who has headed a Conspiracy to overturn the Government of Venice. PRIULI, JAFFIER. Pri.... Home, and be humble; study to retrench; Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall, Those pageants of thy folly: Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife Then, to some suburb cottage both retire; Drudge to feed loathsome life; get brats, and starve— Jaf. Yes, if my heart would let me— This proud, this swelling heart: home I would go, Filled and dammed up with gaping creditors. . . . I've now not fifty ducats in the world, Yet still I am in love, and pleased with ruin. O Belvidera! Oh! she is my wife And we will bear our wayward fate together, Enter PIERRE. Pier. My friend, good-morrow! How fares the honest partner of my heart? What, melancholy! not a word to spare me? [Exit. Jaf. I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damned starving quality, Called honesty, got footing in the world. Pier. Why, powerful villany first set it up, For its own ease and safety. Honest men Are the soft, easy cushions on which knaves Repose and fatten. Were all mankind villains, They'd starve each other; lawyers would want practice, Cut-throats rewards: each man would kill his brother Himself; none would be paid or hanged for murder. Honesty! 'twas a cheat invented first To bind the hands of bold, deserving rogues, That fools and cowards might sit safe in power, Like wit, much talked of, not to be defined: He that pretends to most, too, has least share in't. "Tis a ragged virtue.-Honesty! no more on't. Jaf. Sure, thou art honest! Pier. So, indeed, men think me; But they're mistaken, Jaffier: I'm a rogue A fine, gay, bold-faced villain, as thou seest me. I steal from no man; would not cut a throat To get his place or fortune; I scorn to flatter A blown-up fool above me, or crush the wretch beneath me; Yet, Jaffier, for all this I'm a villain. Faf. A villain! Pier. Yes, a most notorious villain ; To see the sufferings of my fellow-creatures, Of liberty, which yet they ne'er must taste of. Not to rouse up at the great call of Nature, And check the growth of these domestic spoilers, Jaf. I think no safety can be here for virtue, And villains fatten with the brave man's labours. I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment. 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. Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship, Faf. That I long since knew; I and ill fortune have been long acquainted. |