yet loved, and that dear love preserved me,
To this last trial of a father’s pity.
I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought
That that dear hand should do the unfriendly office;
If I was ever then your care, now hear me;
Fly to the Senate, save the promised lives
Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.

Priu. O my heart’s comfort!

Belv. Will you not, my father?
Weep not, but answer me.

Priu. By Heaven, I will.
Not one of ’em but what shall be immortal.
Canst thou forgive me all my follies past,
I’ll henceforth be indeed a father; never,
Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,
Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o’er thee.
Peace to thy heart. Farewell.

Belv. Go, and remember
‘Tis Belvidera’s life her father pleads for.

[Exeunt severally.

Enter Antonio.

Hum, hum, ha,

Signor Priuli, my lord Priuli, my lord, my lord, my lord: [how] we lords love to call one another by our titles! My lord, my lord, my lord—pox on him, I am a lord as well as he; and so let him fiddle—I’ll warrant him he’s gone to the Senate-house, and I’ll be there too, soon enough for somebody. ’Od, here’s a tickling speech about the plot, I’ll prove there’s a plot with a vengeance—would I had it without book; let me see—

Most reverend Senators,

That there is a plot, surely by this time, no man that hath eyes or understanding in his head will presume to doubt, ’tis as plain as the light in the cucumber—no—hold there—cucumber does not come in yet—’tis as plain as the light in the sun, or as the man in the moon, even at noonday; it is indeed a pumpkinplot, which, just as it was mellow, we have gathered, and now we have gathered it, prepared and dressed it, shall we throw it like a pickled cucumber out at the window? no: that it is not only a bloody, horrid, execrable, damnable and audacious plot, but it is, as I may so say, a saucy plot: and we all know, most reverend fathers, that what is sauce for a goose is sauce for a gander: therefore,I say, as those bloodthirsty ganders of the conspiracy would have destroyed us geese of the Senate, let us make haste to destroy them, so I humbly move for hanging—ha! hurry durry—I think this will do, tho’ I was something out, at first, about the sun and the cucumber.

Enter Aquilina.

Aquil. Good-morrow, Senator.

Anto. Nacky, my dear Nacky, morrow, Nacky, ’od I am very brisk, very merry, very pert, very jovial—ha- a-a-a-a—kiss me, Nacky; how dost thou do, my little Tory, rory strumpet, kiss me, I say, hussy, kiss me.

Aquil. Kiss me, Nacky, hang you, sir, coxcomb, hang you, sir.

Anto. Hayty, tayty, is it so indeed, with all my heart, faith— her then up go we, faith—her then up go we, dum dum derum dump.

[Sings.

Aquil. Signior.

Anto. Madonna.