above, that are propitious To gallant minds, record this cause, and bless it! Ren. (L.) Thus happy, thus secure of all we wish for, Should there, my friends, be found among us one False to this glorious enterprise, what fate, What vengeance, were enough for such a villain! Elliot. (R. C.) Death here, without repentance—hell hereafter! Ren. (C.) Let that be my lot, if, as here I stand, Listed by fate among her darling sons, Tho' I had one only brother, dear by all The strictest ties of nature, Joined in this cause, and had but ground to fear He meant foul play; may this right hand drop from me, If I'd not hazard all my future peace, And stab him to the heart before you! Who, Who would do less! Would'st thou not, Pierre, the same? Pierre. You've singled me, sir, out for this hard question, As if 'twere started only for my sake:      Am I the thing you fear? Here, here's my bosom; Search it with all your swords. Am I a traitor? Ren. No: but I fear your late commended friend Is little less. Come, sirs, 'tis now no time To trifle with our safety. Where's this Jaffier? Spin. (R. C.) He left the room just now, in strange disorder. Ren. Nay, there is danger in him: I observed him; During the time I took for explanation, He was transported from most deep attention To a confusion, which he could not smother. What's requisite for safety, must be done With speedy execution; he remains Yet in our power; I, for my own part, wear A dagger—       Pierre. Well? [Goes to Renault Ren. And I could wish it—       Pierre. Where? Ren. Buried in his heart. Pierre. Away! we're yet all friends.—      No more of this; 'twill breed ill blood among us.  [35]     Spin. Let us all draw our swords, and search the house; Pull him from the dark hole, where he sits brooding O'er his cold fears, and each man kill his share of him. Pierre. (L.) Who talks of killing] Who's he'll shed the blood,      That's dear to me? I'st you, or you, or you, sir?       [Passing from L. to R. What! not one speak? how you stand gaping all On your grave oracle, your wooden god there! Yet not a word? Then, sir, I'll tell you a secret; Suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue. [To Renault. Ren. (C.) A coward! [Handles his sword. Pierre. (R.) Put—-Put up thy sword, old man; Thy hand shakes at it. Come, let's heal this breach; I am too hot: we yet may all live friends. Spin. Till we are safe, our friendship cannot be so. Pierre. Again! Who's that? Spin. 'Twas I. Theo. And I. Ren. And I. Spin. And all. Let's die like men, and 

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