_Jaf._ Now, ye curs'd rulers, Thus of the blood y' have shed, I make libation And sprinkle it, mingling. May it rest upon you, And all your race. Be henceforth peace a stranger Within your walls; let plagues and famine waste Your generation--Oh, poor Belvidera! Sir, I have a wife, bear this in safety to her; A token that with my dying breath I bless'd her, And the dear little infant left behind me. I'm sick--I'm quiet. [_dies; scene shuts upon them._ SCENE IV. AN APARTMENT AT PRIULI'S. _Soft music; enter Belvidera, distracted, led by two of her women; Priuli and Servants._ _Pri._ Strengthen her heart with patience, pitying heav'n. _Bel._ Come, come, come, come, come, nay come to bed. Pr'ythee, my love. The winds! hark how they whistle; And the rain beats: Oh! how the weather shrinks me! You are angry now, who cares? pish, no indeed, Choose then; I say you shall not go, you shall not; Whip your ill nature; get you gone then. Oh! Are you return'd? see, father, here he's come again: Am I to blame to love him? O, thou dear one, Why do you fly me? are you angry still then? Jaffier, where art thou? father, why do you do thus? Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here somewhere. Stand off, I say: what, gone? remember't, tyrant: I may revenge myself for this trick, one day. I'll do't--I'll do't. _Enter Officer._ _Pri._ News, what news? [_Officer whispers Priuli._ _Offi._ Most sad, sir; Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to prevent A shameful death, stabb'd Pierre, and next himself; Both fell together. _Pri._ Daughter! _Bel._ Ha! look there! My husband bloody, and his friend too! murder! Who has done this? speak to me, thou sad vision: On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Vanish'd-- Here they went down--Oh, I'll dig, dig, the den up! You shan't delude me thus. Hoa, Jaffier, Jaffier, Peep up, and give me but a look. I have him! I've got him, father: Oh! My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! help me! They have hold on me, and drag me to the bottom. Nay--now they pull so hard--farewell-- [_dies; the curtain falls slowly to music._ THE END. _Maurice, Fenchurch Street._ ENGLISH THEATRE. The proprietors of this elegant edition assure the public, that the strictest attention, (consistent with a proper execution of the embellishments and letter press) shall be devoted to the regular publication of a number, weekly. Fifty numbers of this work are now published; and the liberal support they have experienced will excite additional efforts to complete the series in the style which has met such general approbation. They hope to complete Shakspeare, in eight volumes, by the ensuing summer. * * * * * Transcriber's note: One instance of the name Bromveil was changed to read Bramveil. Missing punctuation, especially at the end of speeches, has been added without comment.