loathsome in thy aspect:      All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee. Pr'ythee, avoid, nor longer cling thus round me, Like something baneful, that my nature's chilled at. Jaf. I have not wronged thee; by these tears I have not! Pierre. Hast thou not wronged me I Dar'st thou call thyself That once-loved, honest, valued friend of mine, And swear thou hast not wronged me? Whence these chains? Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment? Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one? Jaf. All's true; yet grant one thing, and I've done asking. Pierre. What's that? Jaf. To take thy life, on such conditions The council have proposed: thou, and thy friends, May yet live long, and to be better treated. Pierre. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself A villain, for the privilege to breathe, And carry up and down this cursed city, A discontented and repining spirit, Burdensome to itself, a few years longer! To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou Art? No, this vile world and I have long been jangling, And cannot part on better terms than now, When only men like thee art fit to live in't. Jaf. By all that's just—       Pierre. Swear by some other power, For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately. Jaf. Then by that hell I merit, I'll not leave thee Till, to thyself at least, thou'rt reconciled, However thy resentments deal with me. Pierre. Not leave me! Jaf. No; thou shalt not force me from thee; Use me reproachfully, and like a slave; Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs On my poor head; I'll bear it all with patience. Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty: [45]     Lie at thy feet, [Falls on his knees,] and kiss them tho they spurn me; Till, wounded by my sufferings, thou relent, And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness. Pierre. Art thou not—       Jaf. What? Pierre. A traitor? Jaf. Yes. Pierre. A villain? Jaf. Granted. Pierre. A coward, a most scandalous coward; Spiritless, void of honour; one who has sold Thy everlasting fame, for shameless life? Jaf. [Rising and turning, R.] All, all, and more, much more; my faults are numberless. Pierre. And would'st thou have me live on terms like thine? Base, as thou'rt false—       Jaf. [Returning.] No; 'tis to me that's granted; The safety of thy life was all I aimed at, In recompence for faith and trust so broken. Pierre. I scorn it more, because preserved by thee; And, as when first my foolish heart took 

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