Jaff.Hah!
Belv.To-morrow,
When thou shalt see him stretch’d in all the agonies
Of a tormenting and a shamful death,
His
bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs,
Insulted o’er by a vile butchering villain;
What will thy heart to
then? oh, sure ’twill stream
Like my eyes now.
Jaff.What means thy dreadful story?
Death, and to-morrow? broken limbs and bowels!
Insulted o’er by a
vile butchering villain!
By all my fears I shall start out to madness,
With barely guessing if the truth’s hid
longer.
Belv.The faithless Senators, ’tis they’ve decreed it:
They say according to our friend’s request,
They shall
have death, and not ignoble bondage:
Declare their promised mercy all as forfeited,
False to their oaths,
and deaf to intercession;
Warrants are passed for public death to-morrow.
Jaff.Death! doomed to die! condemned unheard! unpleaded!
Belv.Nay, cruell’st racks and torments are preparing,
To force confessions from their dying pangs.
Oh, do
not look so terribly upon me,
How your lips shake, and all your face disordered!
What means my love?
Jaff.Leave me, I charge thee, leave me—strong temptations
Wake in my heart.
Belv.For what?
Jaff.No more, but leave me.
Belv.Why?
Jaff.Oh! by Heaven I love you with that fondness
I would not have thee stay a moment longer,
Near these
curs’d hands; are they not cold upon thee?
[Pulls the dagger half out of his bosom and puts it back again.
Belv.No, everlasting comfort’s in thy arms.
To lean thus on thy breast is softer ease
Than downy pillows
deck’d with leaves of roses.
Jaff.Alas! thou think’st not of the thorns ’tis filled with:
Fly ere they [gall] thee: there’s a lurking serpent,
Ready
to leap and sting thee to thy heart;
Art thou not terrified?
Belv.No.
Jaff.Call to mind.
What thou hast done, and whither thou hast brought me.
Belv.Hah!
Jaff.Where’s my friend? my friend, thou smiling mischief?
Nay, shrink not, now ’tis too late, thou shouldst
have fled
When thy guilt first had cause, for dire revenge
Is up and raging for my friend. He groans,
Hark
how he groans, his screams are in my ears
Already; see, they’ve fix’d him on the wheel,
And now they
tear him—Murther! perjur’d Senate!
Murther—Oh!—hark thee, traitress, thou hast done this:
[Fumbling for his dagger.
Thanks to thy tears and false persuading love.
How her eyes speak! O thou bewitching creature!
Madness
cannot hurt thee: come, thou little trembler,
Creep, even into my heart, and there lie safe:
’Tis thy own
citadel—ha!—yet stand off,
Heaven must have justice, and my broken vows
Will sink me else beneath
its reaching mercy;
I’ll wink and then ’tis done—