slave, shamefully used me: 'Twould break thy pitying heart to hear the story. [47] Bel. What has he done? Jaf. "Oh, my dear angel! in that friend, I've lost "All my soul's peace; for every thought of him "Strikes my sense hard, and deads it in my brain! "Would'st thou believe it? "Before we parted," Ere yet his guards had led him to, his prison, Full of severest sorrows for his sufferings, As at his feet I kneeled, and sued for mercy, With a reproachful hand he dashed a blow: He struck me, Belvidera! by Heaven, he struck me Buffeted, called me traitor, villain, coward! Am I a coward? am I a villain? tell me: Thou'rt the best judge, and mad'st me, if I am so! Damnation! coward! Bel. Oh! forgive him, Jaffier! And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already, What will they do to-morrow? Jaf. Ah! Bel. To-morrow, When thou shalt see him stretched in all the agonies Of a tormenting and a shameful death; What will thy heart do then? Oh! sure 'twill stream, Like my eyes now. Jaf. What means thy dreadful story? Death, and to-morrow? Bel. (C.) The faithless senators, 'tis they've decreed it? They say, according to our friends' request, They shall have death, and not ignoble bondage; Declare their promised mercy all as forfeited: False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession, Warrants are passed for public death to-morrow. Jaf. Death! doomed to die! condemned unheard! unpleaded! Bel. Nay, cruel'st racks and torments are preparing To force confession from their dying pangs. Oh! do not look so terribly upon me! How your lips shake, and all your face disordered! What means my love? Jaf. Leave me, I charge thee, leave me! Strong temptations Wake in my heart. [48] Bel. (L.) For what] Jaf. No more, but leave me. Bel. Why? Jaf. (L. C.) Oh! by Heav'n, I love thee with that fondness, I would not have thee stay a moment longer Near these cursed hands. [Pulls the Dagger half out of his bosom, and puts it back again. Art thou not terrified? Bel. No. Jaf. Call to mind What thou hast done, and whither thou hast brought me. Bel. Ha! Jaf. Where's my friend? my friend, thou smiling mischief! Nay, shrink not, now 'tis too late; for dire revenge Is up, and raging for my friend. He groans! Hark, how be groans! his screams are in my ears! Already, see, they've fixed him on the wheel, And now they tear him—Murder! perjured senate! Murder—Oh! Hark thee, traitress, thou hast done this! Thanks to thy tears, and false persuading love. How her eyes speak! oh, thou