_Jaff._ Hark, the dismal bell [_Passing-bell tolls._ Tolls out for death! I must attend its call too; For my poor friend, my dying Pierre expects me; He sent a message to require I'd see him Before he died, and take his last forgiveness. Farewell for ever! _Belv._ Leave thy dagger with me. Bequeath me something.--Not one kiss at parting? [JAFFIER, _going out, looks back at her_. O my poor heart, when wilt thou break? _Jaff._ Yet stay, We have a child, as yet a tender infant: Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone, Breed him in virtue and the paths of honour, But let him never know his father's story; I charge thee guard him from the wrongs my fate May do his future fortune, or his name. Now--nearer yet! [_Approaching each other._] Oh that my arms were rivetted Thus round thee ever! But my friends, my oath-- This, and no more. [_Kisses her._ _Belv._ Another, sure another, For that poor little one you've ta'en care of; I'll give't him truly. _Jaff._ So, now farewell. _Belv._ For ever? _Jaff._ Heaven knows for ever; all good angels guard thee! [_Exit._ _Belv._ All ill ones sure had charge of me this moment. Cursed be my days, and doubly cursed my nights, Which I must now mourn out in widowed tears; Blasted be every herb, and fruit, and tree; Cursed be the rain that falls upon the earth, And may the general curse reach man and beast! Oh, give me daggers, fire, or water; How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, the waves Huzzing and booming round my sinking head, Till I descended to the peaceful bottom! Oh, there's all quiet, here all rage and fury; The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain; I long for thick substantial sleep. Hell! hell! Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud, If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am! _Enter_ PRIULI _and_ Servants. Who's there? _Priu._ Run, seize and bring her safely home; Guard her as you would life. Alas, poor creature! [_They seize her._ _Belv._ What! to my husband? then conduct me quickly. Are all things ready? shall we die most gloriously? Say not a word of this to my old father. Murmuring streams, soft shades, and springing flowers, Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of amber. [_Exeunt._ [Illustration] SCENE III.--_A Public Place. A scaffold and wheel in centre._ _Enter_ Officers, PIERRE, _and_ Guards, _a_ Friar, Executioner, _and a great_ Rabble. _Offi._ Room, room there--stand all by, make room for the prisoner. _Pier._ My friend not come yet? _Friar._ Why are you so obstinate?