pity On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries, Relieved thy wants, and raised thee from the state Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plunged thee, To rank thee in my list of noble friends; All I received in surety for thy truth, Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger, Given with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stol'n:      So I restore it back to thee again; Swearing by all those powers which thou hast violated, Never from this cursed hour, to hold communion, Friendship, or interest, with thee, though our years Were to exceed those limited the world. Take it—farewell—for now I owe thee nothing. Jaf. Say thou wilt live, then. Pierre. For my life, dispose it Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tired with. Jaf. Oh, Pierre! Pierre. No more. [Going, R. Jaf. My eyes won't lose the sight of thee, [Following. [46]     But languish after thine, and ache with gazing. Pierre. Leave me—Nay, then, thus, thus I throw thee from me; And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee!       [Drives him to C.—Exit, R. Jaf. [Pausing.] He's gone, my father, friend, preserver And here's the portion he has left me:      This dagger. Well remembered! with this dagger I gave a solemn vow of dire importance; Parted with this, and Belvidera together. Have a care, mem'ry, drive that thought no farther. No, I'll esteem it as a friend's last legacy; Treasure it up within this wretched bosom, Where it may grow acquainted with my heart, That, when they meet, they start not from each other. So, now for thinking—A blow—called traitor, villain, Coward, dishonourable coward; faugh! Oh, for a long, sound sleep, and so forget it! Down, busy devil! Enter Belvidera, L. Bel. (L.) Whither shall I fly? Where hide me and my miseries together? Where's now the Roman constancy I boasted? Sunk into trembling fears and desperation, Not daring to look up to that dear face,      Which used to smile, even on my faults: but, down, Bending these miserable eyes to earth, Must move in penance, and implore much mercy. Jaf. (R. C.) Mercy! kind Heaven has surely endless stores Hoarded for thee, of blessings yet untasted:      "Let wretches loaded hard with guilt as I am,      "Bow with the weight, and groan beneath the burden,      "Before the footstool of that Heav'n they've injured."      Oh, Belvidera! I'm the wretched'st creature E'er crawled on earth. Bel. (L. C.) Alas! I know thy sorrows are most mighty Jaf. My friend, too, Belvidera, that dear friend, Who, next to thee, was all my heart rejoiced in, Has used me like a 

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