Pierr. Then still thou’rt noble,
And I forgive thee, oh—yet—shall I trust thee?
Jaff. No: I’ve been false already.
Pierr. Dost thou love me?
Jaff. Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings.
Pierr. Curse on this weakness.
[He weeps.
Jaff. Tears! Amazement! Tears!
I never saw thee melted thus before,
And know there’s something labouring
in thy bosom
That must have vent: though I’m a villain, tell me.
Pierr. Seest thou that engine?
[Pointing to the Wheel.
Jaff. Why?
Pierr. Is’t fit a soldier, who has liv’d with honour,
Fought nations’ quarrels, and been crown’d with conquest,
Be
exposed a common carcase on a wheel?
Jaff. Ha!
Pierr. Speak! is’t fitting?
Jaff. Fitting?
Pierr. Yes, is’t fitting?
Jaff. What’s to be done?
Pierr. I’d have thee undertake
Something that’s noble, to preserve my memory
From the disgrace that’s
ready to attaint it.
Offic. The day grows late, sir.
Pierr. I’ll make haste! O Jaffeir,
Though thou’st betray’d me, do me some way justice.
Jaff. No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied.
I have a wife, and she shall bleed, my child too
Yield
up his little throat, and all t’ appease thee—
[Going away, Pierre holds him.
Pierr. No—this—no more!
[He whispers Jaffeir.
Jaff. Ha! is’t then so?
Pierr. Most certainly.
Jaff. I’ll do’t
Pierr. Remember.