arms.] Yet stay:      We have a child, as yet a tender infant:      Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone; [54]     Breed him in virtue and the paths of honour, But never let him know his father's story! I charge thee, guard him from the wrongs my fate May do his future fortune or his name. Now—nearer yet—      Oh, that my arms were riveted Thus round thee ever! But my friends! my oath! This, and no more! [Kisses her Bel. Another, sure another For that poor little one you've ta'en such care of. I'll give't him truly. Jaf. So—now, farewell! Bel. Forever? [Going, L. Jaf. Heav'n knows, forever! all good angels guard thee! [Exit, L. Bel. All ill ones, sure, had charge of me this moment! Oh, give me daggers, daggers, [Returns, C.] fire, or water! How I could bleed, how burn, how drown, the waves Huzzing and foaming round my sinking head,      'Till I descended to the peaceful bottom! Oh! there's all quiet—here, all rage and fury! The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain; I long for thick substantial sleep: (R. C.) Hell! hell! Burst from the centre, (R.) rage and roar aloud, If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am! [Exit, R. 

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[53]

[54]

      Scene IV.—St. Mark's Place,—A Scaffold in the back ground, and a Wheel, prepared for the Execution of Pierre. Enter Captain, Pierre, Guard, Executioner, and Rabble. Pierre. (L.) My friend not yet come? Enter Jaffier, r. Jaf. Oh, Pierre! [Falling on his knees. Pierre. (C.) Dear to my arms, though thou'st undone my fame, I can't forget to love thee. Pr'ythee, Jaffier, Forgive that filthy blow, my passion dealt thee:      I'm now preparing for the land of peace [55]     And fain would have the charitable wishes Of all good men like thee, to bless my journey. Jaf. Good! I'm the vilest creature—worse than e'er Suffered the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of. Capt. (R.) The time grows short; your friends are dead already. Jaf. (L. C.)Dead! Pierre. Yes, dead, Jaffier! they've all died like men, too, Worthy their character. Jaf. And what must I do? Pierre. Oh, Jaffier! Jaf. Speak aloud thy burdened soul, And tell thy troubles to thy tortured friend. Pierre. Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend, I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows. Heaven knows, I want a friend! Jaf. And I a kind one, That would not scorn thus my repenting virtue, Or 

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