<i>Jaff.</i> My eyes won't lose the sight of thee, But languish after thine, and ache with gazing. <i>Pier.</i> Leave me--Nay, then thus, thus I throw thee from me, And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee! [_Exeunt_ PIERRE _and_ Conspirators, _guarded_. _Jaff._ Amen! he's gone, my father, friend, preserver; And here's the portion he has left me. [_Holds the dagger up._ This dagger, well remembered; with this dagger I gave a solemn vow of dire importance; Parted with this and Belvidera together;-- Have a care, memory; drive that thought no farther;-- No, I'll esteem it as a friend's last legacy, Treasure it up within this wretched bosom, Where it may grow acquainted with my heart, That, when they meet, they start not from each other. So; now for thinking: a blow, called traitor, villain, Coward, dishonourable coward, faugh! O for a long sound sleep, and so forget it! Down, busy devil-- _Re-enter_ BELVIDERA. _Belv._ Whither shall I fly? Where hide me and my miseries together? Where's now the Roman constancy I boasted? Sunk into trembling fears and desperation! Not daring to look up to that dear face Which used to smile even on my faults, but down Bending these miserable eyes to earth, Must move in penance, and implore much mercy. _Jaff._ Mercy! kind Heaven has surely endless stores, Hoarded for thee, of blessings yet untasted. Let wretches loaded hard with guilt as I am Bow with the weight, and groan beneath the burthen; Creep, with a remnant of that strength they've left, Before the footstool of that Heaven they've injured. O Belvidera! I'm the wretchedest creature E'er crawled on earth: now, if thou'st virtue, help me; Take me Into thy arms, and speak the words of peace To my divided soul, that wars within me And raises every sense to my confusion; By Heaven, I'm tottering on the very brink Of peace, and thou art all the hold I've left. _Belv._ Alas! I know thy sorrows are most mighty; I know thou'st cause to mourn, to mourn, my Jaffier, With endless cries, and never-ceasing wailings; Thou'st lost-- _Jaff._ Oh, I have lost what can't be counted! My friend too, Belvidera,--that dear friend, Who, next to thee, was all my health rejoiced in,-- Has used me like a slave, shamefully used me; 'Twould break thy pitying heart to hear the story! What shall I do? resentment, indignation, Love, pity, fear, and memory how I've wronged him, Distract my quiet with the very thought on't, And tear my heart to pieces in my bosom. _Belv._ What has he done? _Jaff._ Thou'dst hate me, should I tell thee. _Belv._ Why?