_Jaf._ Oh, Pierre, wert thou but she, How I would pull thee down into my heart, Gaze on thee, till my eye-strings crack'd with love; 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 o'er, And never follow false ambition more. [_exeunt._ ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. A CHAMBER. _Enter Belvidera._ _Bel._ I'm sacrific'd! I'm sold! betray'd to shame! Inevitable ruin has enclos'd me! He that should guard my virtue has betray'd it; Left me! undone me! Oh, that I could hate him! Where shall I go? Oh, whither, whither, wander? _Enter Jaffier._ _Jaf._ Can Belvidera want a resting-place, When these poor arms are ready to receive her? There was a time---- _Bel._ Yes, yes, there was a time, When Belvidera's tears, her cries, and sorrows, Were not despis'd; when, if she chanc'd to sigh, Or look'd but sad--there was indeed a time, When Jaffier would have ta'en her in his arms, Eas'd her declining head upon his breast, And never left her till he found the cause. _Jaf._ Oh, Portia, Portia! what a soul was thine! _Bel._ That Portia was a woman; and when Brutus, Big with the fate of Rome, (heav'n guard thy safety!) Conceal'd from her the labours of his mind; She let him see her blood was great as his, Flow'd from a spring as noble, and a heart Fit to partake his troubles as his love. Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower, Thou gav'st last night in parting with me; strike it Here to my heart; and, as the blood flows from it, Judge if it run not pure, as Cato's daughter's. _Jaf._ Oh! Belvidera! _Bel._ Why was I last night deliver'd to a villain? _Jaf._ Ha! a villain? _Bel._ Yes, to a villain! why at such an hour Meets that assembly, all made up of wretches? Why, I in this hand, and in that a dagger, Was I deliver'd with such dreadful ceremonies? To you, sirs, and to your honours, I bequeath her, And with her this: whene'er I prove unworthy-- You know the rest--then strike it to her heart. Oh! why's that rest conceal'd from me? must I Be made the hostage of a hellish trust? For such I know I am; that's all my value. But, by the love and loyalty I owe thee, I'll free thee from the bondage of the slaves; Straight to the senate, tell 'em all I know, All that I think, all that my fears inform me. _Jaf._ Is this the Roman virtue; this the blood That boasts its purity with Cato's daughter? Would she have e'er betrayed her Brutus? _Bel._ No: For Brutus trusted her. Wert thou so kind, What would not Belvidera suffer for thee? _Jaf._ I shall undo myself, and tell thee all. Yet think a little, ere thou tempt me further; Think I've a tale to tell will shake thy nature, Melt all this boasted constancy thou talk'st of, Into vile tears and despicable sorrows: Then if thou shouldst betray me!-- _Bel._ Shall I swear!