others Jaf. (C.) [In front.] Damn him, let him chew on't! Heav'n! where am I? beset with cursed fiends, That wait to damn me! What a devil's man, When he forgets his nature!—hush, my heart.       [Renault and the Conspirators advance Ren. My friends, 'tis late: are we assembled all? Spin. All—all! Ren. (C.) Oh! you're men, I find, Fit to behold your fate, and meet her summons. To-morrow's rising sun must see you all Decked in your honours. Are the soldiers ready? Pierre. All—all! Ren. You, Durand, with your thousand, must possess St. Mark's; you, Captain, know your charge already;      'Tis to secure the ducal palace:      Be all this done with the least tumult possible, Till in each place you post sufficient guards; Then sheathe your swords in every breast you meet.  [33]     Jaf. (L.) [Aside.] Oh, reverend cruelty! damned, bloody villain! Ren. During this execution, Durand, you Must in the midst keep your battalia fast:      And, Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon That may command the streets; This done, we'll give the general alarm, Apply petards, and force the ars'nal gates; Then fire the city round in several places, Or with our cannon, if it dare resist, Batter to ruin. But, above all, I charge you, Shed blood enough; spare neither sex nor age, Name nor condition: if there lives a senator After to-morrow, though the dullest rogue That e'er said nothing, we have lost our ends. If possible, let's kill the very name Of senator, and bury it in blood. Jaf. [Aside to R.] Merciless, horrid slave! Ay, blood enough! Shed blood enough, old Renault! how thou charm'st me! Ren. But one thing more, and then farewell, till fate Join us again, or sep'rate us forever:      But let us all remember, We wear no common cause upon our swords:      Let each man think, that on his single virtue, Depends the good and fame of all the rest; Eternal honour, or perpetual infamy. You droop, sir. [To Jaffier. Jaf. (L. C.) No: with most profound attention I've heard it all, and wonder at thy virtue. Ren. Let's consider, That we destroy oppression—avarice; A people nursed up equally with vices And loathsome lusts, which nature most abhors, And such as, without shame, she cannot suffer. Jaf. (L.) [Aside,] Oh, Belvidera! take me to thy arms, Ard show me where's my peace, for I have lost it.       [Exit, L. D. Ren. (L. C.) Without the least remorse, then, let's resolve With fire and sword t'exterminate these tyrants, Under whose weight this wretched country labours.  [34]     Pierre. (R.) And may those Powers 

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