_Jaf._ My eyes won't lose the sight of thee, But languish after thee, and ache with gazing. _Pier._ Leave me--Nay, then thus, thus I throw thee from me; And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee. [_exit._ _Jaf._ Amen. He's gone, my father, friend, preserver, And here's the portion he has left me: [_shows the dagger._ This dagger. Well remember'd! with this dagger, I gave a solemn vow of dire importance; Parted with this, and Belvidera together. Have a care, mem'ry, drive that thought no further: 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, call'd a traitor, villain, Coward, dishonourable coward; fough! Oh! for a long sound sleep, and so forget it. Down, busy devil! _Enter Belvidera._ _Bel._ 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 us'd to smile, ev'n on my faults; but, down, Bending these miserable eyes on earth, Must move in penance, and implore much mercy. _Jaf._ Mercy! kind heav'n has surely endless stores, Hoarded for thee, of blessings yet untasted: Oh, Belvidera! I'm the wretched'st creature E'er crawl'd on earth. My friend too, Belvidera, that dear friend, Who, next to thee, was all my health rejoic'd in, Has us'd me like a slave, shamefully us'd me: 'Twould break thy pitying heart to hear the story. _Bel._ What has he done? _Jaf._ Before we parted, Ere yet his guards had led him to his prison, Full of severest sorrows for his sufferings, With eyes o'erflowing, and a bleeding heart, As at his feet I kneel'd and su'd for mercy, With a reproachful hand he dash'd a blow: He struck me, Belvidera! by heav'n, he struck me! Buffetted, call'd me traitor, villain, coward. Am I a coward? Am I a villain? Tell me: Thou'rt the best judge, and mad'st me, if I am so! Damnation! Coward! _Bel._ Oh! forgive him, Jaffier; And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already, What will they do to-morrow? _Jaf._ Ah! _Bel._ To-morrow, When thou shalt see him stretch'd in all the agonies Of a tormenting and a shameful death; His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs, Insulted o'er, by a vile, butchering villain; What will thy heart do then? Oh! sure 'twill stream, Like my eyes now. _Jaf._ What means thy dreadful story? Death, and to-morrow! Broken limbs and bowels! _Bel._ The faithless senators, 'tis they've decreed it: They say, according to our friends' request, They shall have death, and not ignoble bondage: Declare their promis'd mercy all has forfeited: False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession, Warrants are pass'd for public death to-morrow. _Jaf._ Death! doom'd to die! condemn'd unheard! unpleaded!