_Pier._ Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend, I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows. Heaven knows I want a friend! _Jaff._ And I a kind one, That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue, Or think, when he's to die, my thoughts are idle. _Pier._ No! live, I charge thee, Jaffier. _Jaff._ Yes, I will live, But it shall be to see thy fall revenged At such a rate as Venice long shall groan for. _Pier._ Wilt thou? _Jaff._ I will, by Heaven! _Pier._ Then still thou'rt noble, And I forgive thee. Oh--yet--shall I trust thee? _Jaff._ No; I've been false already. _Pier._ Dost thou love me? _Jaff._ Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings. _Pier._ Curse on this weakness! [_He weeps._ _Jaff._ Tears! amazement! tears! I never saw thee melted thus before; And know there's something labouring in thy bosom That must have vent: though I'm a villain, tell me. _Pier._ Seest thou that engine? [_Pointing to the wheel._ _Jaff._ Why? _Pier._ Is't fit a soldier, who has lived with honour, Fought nations' quarrels, and been crowned with conquest, Be exposed a common carcass on a wheel? _Jaff._ Ha! _Pier._ Speak! is't fitting? _Jaff._ Fitting? _Pier._ Yes, is't fitting? _Jaff._ What's to be done? _Pier._ I'd have thee undertake Something that's noble, to preserve my memory From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it. _Offi._ The day grows late, sir. _Pier._ I'll make haste. Oh, Jaffier, Though thou'st betrayed me, do me some way justice. _Jaff._ No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied; I have a wife, and she shall bleed; my child too Yield up his little throat, and all to appease thee-- [_Going away_, PIERRE _holds him_. _Pier._ No--this--no more! [_He whispers_ JAFFIER. _Jaff._ Ha! is't then so? _Pier._ Most certainly. _Jaff._ I'll do it. _Pier._ Remember. _Offi._ Sir. _Pier._ Come, now I'm ready. [_He and_ JAFFIER _ascend the scaffold_. Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour; Keep off the rabble, that I may have room To entertain my fate, and die with decency. Come! [_Takes off his gown._ Executioner _prepares to bind him_. _Friar._ Son! _Pier._ Hence, tempter! _Offi._ Stand off, priest! _Pier._ I thank you, sir. You'll think on't. [_To_ JAFFIER. _Jaff._ 'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow. _Pier._ Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now;-- _Jaff._ Have at thee, [Executioner _having bound him_. Thou honest heart, then--here! [_Stabs him._] And this is well too. [_Stabs himself._ _Friar._ Damnable deed!