Venice Preserved: A Tragedy
With their great image, on our natures. Die!
Consider well the cause, that calls upon thee:
And, if thou'rt base enough, die then. Remember,
Thy Belvidera suffers; Belvidera!
Die--damn first--What! be decently interr'd
In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust
With stinking rogues, that rot in winding-sheets,
Surfeit-slain fools, the common dung o'th' soil!
_Jaf._ Oh!
_Pier._ Well said, out with't, swear a little--
_Jaf._ Swear! By sea and air; by earth, by heav'n, and hell,
I will revenge my Belvidera's tears.
Hark thee, my friend--Priuli--is--a senator.
_Pier._ A dog.
_Jaf._ Agreed.
_Pier._ Shoot him.
_Jaf._ With all my heart.
No more; where shall we meet at night?
_Pier._ I'll tell thee;
On the Rialto, every night at twelve,
I take my evening's walk of meditation;
There we two will meet, and talk of precious
Mischief--
_Jaf._ Farewell.
_Pier._ At twelve.
_Jaf._ At any hour; my plagues
Will keep me waking. [_exit Pierre.
Tell me why, good heaven,
Thou mad'st me, what I am, with all the spirit,
Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires,
That fill the happiest man? Ah, rather, why
Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate,
Base-minded, dull, and fit to carry burthens?
Why have I sense to know the curse that's on me?
Is this just dealing, nature?--Belvidera!
_Enter Belvidera._
Poor Belvidera!
_Bel._ Lead me, lead me, my virgins,
To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my refuge!
Happy my eyes, when they behold thy face!

 Prev. P 5/31 next 
Back Top
Privacy Statement Terms of Service Contact