and tell us 'tis our charter!       [Walks, L. Jaf. I think no safety can be here for virtue, And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live In such a wretched state as this of Venice, Where all agree to spoil the public good, And villains fatten with the brave man's labours. Pierre. [Returns to L. C.] We've neither safety, unity, nor peace, For the foundation's lost of common good; Justice is lame, as well as blind, amongst us; The laws (corrupted to their ends that make them,)      Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny, That every day starts up, t'enslave us deeper. Now [Lays his hand on Jaffier's arm,] could this glorious cause but find out friends [12]     To do it right, oh, Jaffier! then might'st thou Not wear those seals of woe upon thy face; The proud Priuli should be taught humanity, And learn to value such a son as thou art. I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment. Jaf. Cursed be the cause, though I, thy friend, be part on't:      Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom, For I am used to misery, and perhaps May find a way to sweeten't to thy spirit. Pierre. [Turns, L. and looks over a shoulder.] Too soon      'twill reach thy knowledge—       Jaf. Then from thee Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship, Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing, Strengthen my constancy, and welcome ruin. Pierre. Then thou art ruined! Jaf. That I long since knew; I and ill fortune have been long acquainted. Pierre. I passed this very moment by thy doors, And found them guarded by a troop of villains;      "The sons of public rapine were destroying."      They told me, by the sentence of the law They had commission to seize all thy fortune:      Nay, more, Priuli's cruel band had signed it. Here stood a ruffian, with a horrid face, Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate, Tumbled into a heap for public sale:      There was another making villainous jests At thy undoing: he had ta'en possession Of all thy ancient, most domestic ornaments; Rich hangings, intermixed and wrought with gold The very bed, which, on thy wedding night, Received thee to the arms of Belvidera, The scene of all thy joys, was violated By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains, And thrown amongst the common lumber. Jaf.Now, thank heaven—       Pierre. Thank heaven! for what? Jaf.That I'm not worth a ducat. Pierre. Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of Venice, [13]     Where brothers, friends, and fathers, all are false; Where there's no truth, no trust; where innocence Stoops under vile oppression, and 

 Prev. P 10/42 next