hereafter.
_Ren._ Let that be my lot, if as here I stand, listed by fate among her darling sons, though I had one only brother, dear by all the strictest ties of nature; could I have such a friend 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? Wouldst thou not, Pierre, the same?
_Pier._ You've singled me, sir, out for this hard question, as if it were 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._ 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; his looks grew full of sadness and surprise, all which betrayed a wavering spirit in him, that laboured with reluctancy and sorrow. 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----
_Pier._ Well.
_Ren._ And I could wish it----
_Pier._ Where?
_Ren._ Buried in his heart.
_Pier._ Away; we're yet all friends, no more of this, 'twill breed ill blood among us.
_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.
_Pier._ Who talks of killing? Who's he'll shed the blood that's dear to me? Is't you, or you, or you, sir? 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 Ren._
_Ren._ A coward!
_Pier._ 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.
_Pier._ Again! Who's that?
_Spin._ 'Twas I.
_Theo._ And I.
_Ren._ And I.
_Omnes._ And all.
_Ren._ Who are on my side?
_Spin._ Every honest sword. Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves.
_Pier._ One such word more, by heaven I'll to the senate, and hang ye all, like dogs, in clusters. Why weep your coward swords half out their shells? Why do you not all brandish them like mine? You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing.
_Ren._ Go to the senate, and betray us! haste! Secure thy wretched life; we fear to die less than thou dar'st be honest.

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