Venice Preserv'd/Act II

by Thomas Otway

ACT. II.

Enter Pierre and Aquilina.

Aquil.By all thy Wrongs, thou art dearer to my Arms
Than all the Wealth of Venice: Prithee stay,
And let us love to night.

⁠Pierr. No: There's Fool,
There's Fool about thee: When a Woman sells
Her Flesh to Fools, her Beauty's lost to me;
They leave a Taint, a sully where th'ave past,
There's such a baneful Quality about'em,
Even spoyls Complexions with their own Nauseousness,
They infect all they touch, I cannot think
Of tasting any thing a Fool has pall'd.

⁠Aquil. I loath and scorn that Fool thou mean'st, as much
Or more than thou can'st; But the Beast has Gold
That makes him necessary: Power too,
To qualifie my Character, and poise me
Equal with peevish Virtue, that beholds
My Liberty with Envy: In their Hearts
Are loose as I am, But an ugly Power
Sits in their Faces, and frights Pleasures from 'em.

⁠Pierr. Much good may't do you, Madam, with your Senator.

⁠Aquil. My Senator! why, can'st thou think that Wretch
E're fill'd thy Aquilina's Arms with Pleasure?
Think'st thou, because I sometimes give him leave
To foyle himself at what he is unfit for;
Because I force my self to endure and suffer him,
Think'st thou I love him? No, by all the Joys
Thou ever gav'st me, his Presence is my Pennance;
The worst thing an old Man can be's a Lover,
A meer Memento Mori to poor woman.
I never lay by his decrepit side,
But all that night I ponder'd on my Grave.

⁠Pierr. Would he were well sent thither.

⁠Aquil. That's my wish too:
For then, my Pierre, I might have cause with pleasure
To play the Hypocrite: Oh! how I could weep
Over the dying Dotard, and kiss him too,
In hopes to smother him quite; then, when the time
Was come to pay my Sorrows at his Funeral,
For he has already made me Heir to Treasures,
Would make me out-acta real Widows whining:
How could I frame my face to fit my mourning!
With wringing hands attend him to his Grave,
Fall swooning on his Hearse: Take mad possession,
Even of the Dismal Vault, where he lay bury'd,
There like the Ephesian Matron dwell, till Thou,
My lovely Soldier, comest to my Deliverance;
Then throwing up my Veil, with open Armes
And laughing Eyes, run to new dawning Joy.

⁠Pierr. No more! I have Friends to meet me here to night,
And must be private. As you prize my Friendship
Keep up your Coxcomb: Let him not pry nor listen,
Nor fisk about the House as I have seen him,
Like a tame mumping Squirrel with a bell on;
Currs will be abroad to bite him, if you do.

⁠Aquil. What Friends to meet? may I not be of your Council?

⁠Pierr. How! a Woman ask Questions out of Bed?
Go to your Senator, ask him what passes
Amongst his Brethren, hee'l hide nothing from you;
But pump not me for Politicks. No more!
Give order that whoever in my name
Comes here, receive Admittance: so good night.

⁠Aquil. Must we ne're meet again! Embrace no more!
Is Love so soon and ulterly forgotten!

⁠Pierr. As you hence-forward treat your Fool, I'le think on't.

⁠Aquil. Curst be all Fools, and doubly curst my self,
The worst of Fools—I die if he forsakes me;
[Exeunt.And now to keep him, Heav'n or Hell instruct me.

Scene The Ryalto.

Enter Jaffeir.

⁠Jaff. I am here, and thus, the Shades of Night around me,
I look as if all Hell were in my Heart,
And I in Hell. Nay, surely 'tis so with me;—
For every step I tread, methinks some Fiend
Knocks at my Breast, and bids it not be quiet,
I've heard, how desperate Wretches, like my self,
Have wander'd out at this dead time of Night
To meet the Foe of Mankind in his walk:
Sure I am so Curst, that, tho' of Heav'n forsaken,
No Minister of Darkness cares to Tempt me.
Hell! Hell! why sleepest thou?

Enter Pierre.

⁠Pierr. Sure I have stay'd too long:
The Clock has struck, and I may lose my Proselyte.
Speak, who goes there?

⁠Jaff. A Dog, that comes to howl
At yonder Moon: What's he that asks the Question?

⁠Pierr. A Friend to Dogs, for they are honest Creatures,
And ne're betray their Masters; never Fawn
On any that they love not: Well met, Friend:
Jaffeir!

⁠Jaff. The same. Oh Peirre! Thou art come in season,
I was just going to Pray.

⁠Pierr. Ah that's Mechanick,
Priests make a Trade on't, and yet starve by it too:
No Praying, it spoils Business, and time's precious;
Where's Belvidera?

⁠Jaff. For a Day or two
I've lodg'd her privately, 'till I see farther
What Fortune will do with me? Prithee, Friend,
If thou would'st have me fit to hear good Council,
Speak not of Beldivera—

⁠Pierr. Speak not of her.

⁠Jaff. Oh no!

⁠Pierr. Nor name her. May be I wish her well.

⁠Jaff. Who well?

⁠Pierr. Thy Wife, thy lovely Belvidera,
I hope a man may wish his Friends Wife well,
And no harm done!

⁠Jaff. Y'are merry Pierre!

⁠Pierr. I am so:
Thou shalt smile too, and Belvidera smile;
We'll all rejoyce, here's something to buy Pins,
Marriage is Chargeable.

⁠Jaff. I but half wisht
To see the Devil, and he's here already.
Well!
What must this buy, Rebellion, Murder, Treason?
Tell me which way I must be damn'd for this.

⁠Pierr. When last we parted, we had no qualms like these,
But entertain'd each others thoughts like Men,
Whose Souls were well acquainted. Is the World
Reform'd since our last meeting? What new miracles
Have happen'd? Has Priuli's heart relented?
Can he be honest?

⁠Jaff. Kind Heav'n! let heavy Curses
Gall his old Age; Cramps, Aches, rack his Bones;
And bitterest disquiet wring his Heart;
Oh let him live 'till Life become his burden!
Let him groan under't long, linger an Age
In the worst Agonies and Pangs of Death;
And find its ease, but late.

⁠Pierr. Nay, could'st thou not
As well, my Friend, have stretcht the Curse to all
The Senate round, as to one single Villain?

⁠Jaff. But Curses stiek not: Could I kill with Cursing,
By Heav'n I know not thirty Heads in Venice
Should not be blasted; Senators should not
Like Dogs on Dunghills; but their Wives and Daughters
Dye of their own diseases. Oh for a Curse
To kill with!

⁠Pierr. Daggers, Daggers, are much better!

⁠Jaff. Ha!

⁠Pierr. Daggers.

⁠Jaff. But where are they?

⁠Pierr. Oh, a Thousand
May be dispos'd in honest hands in Venice.

⁠Jaff.
Thou talk'st in Clouds.

⁠Pierr. But yet a Heart half wrong'd
As thine has bin, would find the meaning, Jaffeir.

⁠Jaff. A thousand Daggers, all in honest hands;
And have not I a Friend will stick one here?

⁠Pier. Yes, if I thought thou wert not to be cherisht
To a nobler purpose, l'd be that Friend.
But thou hast better Friends, Friends, whom thy Wrong,
Have made thy Friends; Friends, worthy to be call'd so;
I'l trust thee with a secret: There are Spirits
This hour at work. But as thou art a Man,
Whom I have pickt and chosen from the World,
Swear, that thou wilt be true to what I utter,
And when I have told thee, that which only Gods
And Men like Gods are privy to, then swear,
No Chance or Change shall wrest it from thy Bosom.

⁠Jaff. When thou would'st bind me, is there need of Oaths?
(Green-sickness Girls lose Maiden-heads with such Counters)
For thou art so near my heart, that thou may'st see
Its bottom, sound its strength, and firmness to thee:
Is Coward, Fool, or Villian, in my face?
If I seem none of these, I dare believe
Thou would'st not use me in a little Cause,
For I am fit for Honour's toughest task;
Nor ever yet found fooling was my Province;
And for a villainous inglorious enterprize,
I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine
Before thee, set it to what Point thou wilt.

⁠Pierr. Nay, It's a Cause thou wilt be fond of Jaffeir.
For it is founded on the noblest Basis,
Our Liberties, our natural Inheritance;
There's no Religion, no Hypocrisie in't;
Wee'l do the Business, and ne'r fast and pray for't:
Openly act a deed, the World shall gaze
With wonder at, and envy when it is done.

⁠Jaff. For Liberty!

⁠Pierr. For Liberty my Friend:
Thou shalt be freed from base Priuli's Tyranny,
And thy sequestred Fortunes heal'd again.
I shall be freed from opprobrious Wrongs,
That press me now, and bend my Spirit downward:
All Venice free, and every growing Merit
Succeed toits just Right: Fools shall be pull'd
From Wisdoms Seat; those baleful unclean Birds,
Those Lazy-Owls, who (perch'd near Fortunes Top)
Sit only watchful with their heavy Wings
To cuff down new fledg'd Virtues, that would rise
To nobler heights, and make the Grove harmonious.

⁠Jaff. What can I do?

⁠Pierr. Cans't thou not kill a Senator?

⁠Jaff. Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him
For herding with that nest of Fools and Knaves;
By all my Wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge
Were to be had, and the brave Story warms me.

⁠Pierr. Swear then!

⁠Jaff. I do, by all those glittering Stars,
And yond great Ruling Planet of the Night!
By all good Pow'rs above, and ill below!
By Love and Friendship, dearer than my Life!
No Pow'r or Death shall make me false to thee.

⁠Pierr. Here we embrance, and I'l unlock my Heart.
A Councel's held hard by, where the destruction
Of this great Empire's hatching: There I'l lead thee!
But be a Man, for thou art to mix with Men
Fit to disturb the Peace of all the World,
And rule it when it's wildest ———

⁠Jaff. I give thee thanks
For this kind warning: Yes, I will be a Man,
And charge thee, Pierre, when er'e thou see'st my fears
Betry me less, to rip this Heart of mine
Out of my Breast, and shew it for a Cowards.
Come, let's begone, for from this hour I chase
All little thoughts, all tender humane Follies
Out of my bosom: Vengeance shall have room:
Revenge!

⁠Pierr. And Liberty!

[Exeunt.⁠Jaff. Revenge! Revenge———

The Scene changes to Aquilina's house, the Greek Curtezan.

Enter Renault.

⁠Renault. Why was my choice Ambition, the first ground
A Wretch can build on? it's indeed at distance
good 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're think how sandy's the Foundation,
What Storm will better, and what Tempest shake us!
Who's there?

Enter Spinosa.

⁠Spino. Renault, good morrow! for by this time
I think the Scale of Night has turn'd the ballance,
And weighs up Morning: Has the Clock struck Twelve?

⁠Rena. Yes, Clocks will go as they are set: But Man,
Irregular Man's ne're constant, never certain:
I've spent at least three pretious hours of darkness
In waiting dull attendance; 'tis the Curse
Of diligent Virtue to be mixt like mine,
With giddy Tempers, Souls but half resolv'd.

⁠Spin. Hell seize that Soul amongst us, it can frighten.

⁠Rena. What's then the cause that I am here alone?
Why are we not together?
Enter Eliot.
O Sir, welcome!
You are an Englishman: When Treason's hatching
One might have thought you'd not have been behind hand.
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.

⁠Eliot. Frenchman, you are sawcy.

⁠Rena. How!

Enter Bedamore the Embassador, Theodore, Brainveil, Durand,
Brabe, Revellido, Mezzana, Ternon, Retrosi, Conspirators.

⁠Bedam.
At difference, fy.
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 great assembly as in one great Jewel,
T'adorn the bravest purpose it er'e smil'd on;
Should you like Boys wrangle for trifles?

⁠Ren. Boys!

⁠Beda. 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.

⁠Beda. Eliot, thou once had'st Vertne, I have seen
Thy stubborn Temper bend with godlike Goodness,
Not half thus courted: 'Tis thy Nations Glory,
To hugg the Foe that offers brave Alliance.
Once more embrace, my Friends—wee'l all embrace ———
United thus, we are the mighty Engin
Must twist this rooted Empire from its Basis!
Totters it not already?

⁠Eliot. Would it were tumbling.

⁠Bed. Nay it shall down: This Night we Seal its ruine.
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 prophesy'd of thee.

⁠Pierr. Friends! was not Brutus,
(I mean that Brutus, who in open Senate
Stabb'd the first Cæsar that usurp'd the World)
A Gallant Man?

⁠Rena. Yes, and Cateline too;
Tho story wrong his Fame: for he conspir'd
To prop the reeling Glory of his Country:
His Cause was good.

⁠Beda. And ours as much above it,
As Renault thou art Superior to Cethegus,
Or Pierre to Cassius.

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

⁠Beda. 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 nor hand amongst us
But is firm and ready.

⁠All. All!
Wee'l die with Bedamore.

⁠Beda. Oh Men
Matchless, as will your Glory be hereafter.
The Game is for a Matchless Prize, if won;
If lost, disgraceful Ruine.

⁠Ren. What can lose it?
The publick Stock's a Beggar; one Venetian
Trusts not another: Look into their Stores
Of general safety; Empty Magazines,
A tatter'd Fleet, a murmuring unpaid Army,
Bankrupt Nobility, a harrast Commonalty,
A Factious, giddy, and divided Senate,
Is all the strength of Venice: Let's destroy it;
Let's fill their Magazines with Arms to awe them,
Man out their Fleet, and make their Trade maintain it;
Let loose the murmuring Army on their Masters,
To pay themselves with plunder, Lop their Nobles
To the base Roots, whence most of 'em first sprung;
Enslave the Rowt, whom smarting will make humble,
Turn out their droning Senate, and possess
That Seat of Empire which our Souls were fram'd for.

⁠Pierr. 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 resolv'd
To serve your Glory, and revenge their own!
Th' have all their different Quarters in this City,
Watch for th' Alarm, and grumble 'tis so tardy.

⁠Beda. I doubt not Friend, but thy unweary'd diligence
Has still kept waking, and it shall have ease;
After this Night it is resolv'd we meet
Nomore, 'till Venice own us for her Lords.

⁠Pierr. How lovely the Adriatique Whore,
Drest in her Flames, will shine! devouring Flames!
Such as shall burn her to the watery bottm
And hiss in her Foundation.

⁠Beda. Now if any
Amongst us that owns this glorious Cause,
Have friends or Interest, hee'd wish to save,
Let it be told, the general Doom is Seal'd;
But I'de forgo the Hopes of a Worlds Empire,
Rather than wound the Bowels of my Friend.

⁠Pierr. I must confess you there have toucht my weakness,
I have a Friend; hear it, such a Friend!
My heart was ner'e shut to him: Nay, I'l tell you,
He knows the very Business of this Hour;
But he rejoyces in the Cause, and loves it,
W' have chang'd a Vow to live and die together,
And He's at hand to ratify it here.

⁠Ren. How! all betray'd?

⁠Pierr. No—I've dealt nobly with you;
I've brought my All into the publick Stock;
I had but one Friend, and him I'l share amongst you;
Receive and Cherish him: Or if, when seen
And searcht, 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 er'e could boast of.

Enter Jaffeir with a Dagger.

⁠Beda. His Presence bears the show of Manly Vertue.

⁠Jaff. I know you'l wonder all, that thus uncall'd,
I dare approach this place of fatal Councels;
But I am amongst you, and by Heav'n it glads me,
To see so many Vertues thus united,
To restore Justice and dethrown 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 assembl'd Senate;
It shrinks not, tho I meet a Father there;
Would you behold this City Flaming? Here's
A hand shall bear a lighted Torch at noon
To the Arsenal, and set its Gates on fire.

⁠Ren. You talk this well, Sir.

⁠Jaff. Nay—by Heav'n I'l do this.
Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces,
You fear me a 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 Councels;
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!

⁠Beda. Pierre! I must embrace him,
My heart beats to this Man as if it knew him.

⁠Rena. I never lov'd these huggers:

⁠Jaff. Still I see
The cause delights me not. Your Friends survey me,
As I were dang'rous—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! Ho! my Belvidera!

⁠Bed. What wonder next?

⁠Jaff. Let me entreat you,
As I have henceforth hopes to call ye friends,
That all but the Ambassador, this
Grave Guide of Councels, with my friend that owns me,
Withdraw a while to spare a Womans blushes.
[Ex. all but Bed. Rena. Jaff. Pierr.  

⁠Beda. Pierre, whither will this Ceremony lead us?

⁠Jaff. My Belvidera! Belvidera!

Enter Belvidera.

⁠Belvid. Who?
Who calls so lowd at this late peacefull hour?
That Voice was wont to come in gentler whispers,
And fill my Ears with the soft breath of Love:
Thou hourly Image of my Thoughts, where art thou?

⁠Jaff Indeed 'tis late.

⁠Belv. Oh! I have slept, and dreamt,
And dreamt again: Where hast thou been thou Loyterer?
Tho my Eyes clos'd, my Arms have still been open'd;
Stretch every way betwixt my broken slumbers,
To search if thou wert come to crown my Rest;
There's no repose without thee: Oh the day,
Too soon will break, and wake us to our sorrow;
Come, come to bed, and bid thy Cares good Night.

⁠Jaff. Oh Belvidera! we must change the Scene
In which the past Delights of Life were tasted:
The poor sleep little, we must learn to watch
Our labours late, and early every Morning,
Mid'st winter Frosts, then clad and fed with sparing,
Rise to our toils, and drudge away the day.

⁠Belv. 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!
Heaven's guard my Love, and bless his heart with Patience.

⁠Jaff. 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're possest,
And I the wretched'st of the Race of Man)
This very hour, without one tear, must part.

⁠Belv. Part! must we part? Oh! am I then forsaken?
Will my Love cast me off? have my misfortunes
Offended him so highly, that hee'l leave me?
Why dragg you from me? whither are you going?
My Dear! my Life! my Love!

⁠Jaff. Oh Friends!

⁠Belv. Speak to me.

⁠Jaff. Take her from my heart,
Shee'l gain such hold else, I shall ner'e get loose.
I charge thee take her, but with tender'st care,
Relieve her Troubles and asswage her sorrows.

⁠Ren. Rise, Madam! and Command amongst your Servants!

⁠Jaff. To you, Sirs, and your Honours, I bequeath her,
[Gives a dagger.And with her this, when I prove unworthy—
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 encreasing Love,
Sent that Reward for all her Truth and Sufferings.

⁠Belv. Nay, take my Life, since he has sold it cheaply;
Or send me to some distant Clime your slave,
But let it be far off, least my complainings
Should reach his guilty Ears, and shake his peace.

⁠Jaff. No Belvidera, I've contriv'd thy honour,
Trust to my Faith, and be but Fortune kind
To me, as I'l preserve that faith unbroken,
When next we meet, I'l lift thee to a height,
Shall gather all the gazing World about thee,
To wonder what strange Virtue plac'd thee there.
But if we ner'e meet more ———

⁠Belv. Oh thou unkind one,
Never meet more! have I deserv'd this from you?
Look on me, tell me; tell me, speak thou dear deceiver,
Why am I separated from thy Love?
If I am false, accuse me; but if true,
Don't, prithee don't in poverty forsake me.
But pitty the sad heart, that's torn with parting.
[Ex. Ren. Bed. and Belv. Yet hear me! yet recall me—

⁠Jaff. Oh my Eyes!
Look not that way, but turn your selves a while
Into my heart, and be wean'd all together.
My Friend, where art thou?

⁠Pierr. Here, my Honour's Brother.

⁠Jaff. Is Belvidera gone?

⁠Pierr. Renault has lead her
Back to her own Apartment: but, by Heav'n!
Thou must not see her more till our work's over.

⁠Jaff. No:

⁠Pierr. Not for your life.

⁠Jaff. Oh Pierre, wert thou but she,
How I could pull thee down into my heart,
Gaze on thee till my Eye-strings crackt with Love,
Till all my sinews with its fire extended,
Fixt me upon the Rack of ardent longing;
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 or'e,
[Ex. Ambo.⁠And never follow false Ambition more.