_Pier._ Who talks of killing? Who's he'll shed the blood That's dear to me? is't you, or you, or you, sir? What, not one speak! how you stand gaping all On your grave oracle, your wooden god there! Yet not a word! Then, sir, I'll tell you a secret; Suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue. [_to Ren._ _Ren._ A coward! [_handles his sword._ _Pier._ Put up thy sword, old man; Thy hand shakes at it. Come, let's heal this breach; I am too hot, we yet may all live friends. _Spin._ Till we are safe, our friendship cannot be so. _Pier._ Again! Who's that? _Spin._ 'Twas I. _Theo._ And I. _Ren._ And I. _Omnes._ And all. _Ren._ Who are on my side? _Spin._ Every honest sword. Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves. _Pier._ One such word more, by heaven I'll to the senate, And hang ye all, like dogs, in clusters. Why weep your coward swords half out their shells? Why do you not all brandish them like mine? You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing. _Ren._ Go to the senate, and betray us! haste! Secure thy wretched life; we fear to die Less than thou dar'st be honest. _Pier._ That's rank falsehood. Fear'st not thou death! Fie, there's a knavish itch In that salt blood, an utter foe to smarting. Had Jaffier's wife prov'd kind, he'd still been true. Faugh, how that stinks! thou die, thou kill my friend! Or thou! or thou! with that lean wither'd face. Away, disperse all to your several charges, And meet to-morrow where your honour calls you. I'll bring that man, whose blood you so much thirst for, And you shall see him venture for you fairly-- Hence! hence, I say. [_exit Renault, angrily._ _Spin._ I fear we've been to blame, And done too much. _Theo._ 'Twas too far urg'd against the man you lov'd. _Rev._ Here, take our swords, and crush them with your feet. _Spin._ Forgive us, gallant friend. _Pier._ Nay, now you've found The way to melt, and cast me as you will. Whence rose all this discord? Oh, what a dangerous precipice have we 'scap'd! How near a fall was all we'd long been building! What an eternal blot had stain'd our glories, If one, the bravest and the best of men, Had fall'n a sacrifice to rash suspicion, Butcher'd by those, whose cause he came to cherish! Come but to-morrow, all your doubts shall end, } And to your loves, me better recommend, } That I've preserv'd your fame, and sav'd my friend.} [_exeunt._ ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. THE RIALTO. _Enter Jaffier and Belvidera._ _Jaf._ Where dost thou lead me? Every step I move, Methinks I tread upon some mangled limb Of a rack'd friend. O, my charming ruin! Where are we wandering?