by Thomas Otway
His cause was good.
Bed. And ours as much above it
As, Renault, thou’rt superior to Cethegus,
Or Pierre to Cassius.
Pier. Then to what we aim at,
When do we start? or must we talk for ever?
Bed. No, Pierre, the deed’s near birth: fate seems to have set
The business up, and given it to our care:
I hope there’s not a heart nor hand amongst us
But is firm and ready.
All. All! We’ll die with Bedamar.
Bed. Oh, men!
Matchless, as will your glory be hereafter.
The game is for a matchless prize, if won;
If lost, disgraceful ruin.
Ren. What can lose it?
The public stock’s a beggar; one Venetian
Trusts not another. Look into their stores
Of general safety; empty magazines,
A tattered fleet, a murmuring unpaid army,
Bankrupt nobility, a harassed commonalty,
A factious, giddy, and divided Senate,
Is all the strength of Venice. Let’s destroy it;
Let’s fill their magazines with arms to awe them,
Man out their fleet, and make their trade maintain it;
Let loose the murmuring army on their masters,
To pay themselves with plunder; lop their nobles
To the base roots, whence most of them first sprung;
Enslave the rout, whom smarting will make humble;
Turn out their droning Senate, and possess
That seat of empire which our souls were framed for.
Pier. Ten thousand men are armèd at your nod,
Commanded all by leaders fit to guide
A battle for the freedom of the world;
This wretched state has starved them in its service,
And, by your bounty quickened, they’re resolved
To serve your glory, and revenge their own:
They’ve all their different quarters in this city,
Watch for the alarm, and grumble ’tis so tardy.
Bed. I doubt not, friend, but thy unwearied diligence
Has still kept waking, and it shall have ease:
After this night, it is resolved we meet
No more, till Venice own us for her lords.
Pier. How lovelily the Adriatic whore,
Dressed in her flames, will shine! — devouring flames,
Such as shall burn her to the watery bottom,
And hiss in her foundation!
Bed. Now if any
‘Mongst us that owns this glorious cause
Have friends or interest he’d wish to save,
Let it be told. The general doom is sealed;
But I’d forego the hopes of a world’s empire,
Rather than wound the bowels of my friend.
Pier. I must confess, you there have touched my weakness:
I have a friend; hear it, such a friend!
My heart was ne’er shut to him. Nay, I’ll tell you:
He knows the very business of this hour;
But he rejoices in the cause, and loves it;
We’ve changed a vow to live and die together,
And he’s at hand to ratify it here.
Ren. How! all betrayed?
Pier. No! I’ve dealt nobly with you;
I’ve brought my all into the public stock;
I’d but one friend, and him I’ll share amongst you!
Receive and cherish him: or if, when seen
And searched, you find him worthless, as my tongue
Has lodged this secret in his faithful breast,
To ease your fears I wear a dagger here
Shall rip it out again, and give you rest. —
Come forth, thou only good I e’er could boast of.
Enter Jaffier with a dagger.
Bed. His presence bears the show of manly virtue.
Jaff. I know you’ll wonder all, that thus uncalled
I dare approach this place of fatal counsels;
But I’m amongst you, and, by Heaven, it glads me
To see so many virtues thus united,
To restore justice, and dethrone oppression.
Command this sword, if you would have it quiet,
Into this breast; but, if you think it worthy
To cut the throats of reverend rogues in robes,
Send me into the cursed assembled Senate;
It shrinks not, though I meet a father there.
Would you behold this city flaming? here’s
A hand shall bear a lighted torch at noon
To the arsenal, and set its gates on fire.
Ren. You talk this well, sir.
Jaff. Nay — by Heaven, I’ll do this!
Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces;
You fear me a villain, and indeed ’tis odd
To hear a stranger talk thus at first meeting
Of matters that have been so well debated;
But I come ripe with wrongs, as you with counsels;
I hate this Senate, am a foe to Venice;
A friend to none but men resolved, like me,
To push on mischief. Oh, did you but know me,
I need not talk thus!
Bed. Pierre, I must embrace him.
My heart beats to this man as if it knew him.
Ren. I never loved these huggers.
Jaff. Still I see
The cause delights me not. Your friends survey me
As I were dangerous; but I come armed
Against all doubts, and to your trust will give
A pledge, worth more than all the world can pay for.
My Belvidera! Ho! my Belvidera!
Bed. What wonder next?
Jaff. Let me entreat you,
As I have henceforth hopes to call ye friends,
That all but the ambassador, and this
Grave guide of counsels, with my friend that owns me,
Withdraw awhile, to spare a woman’s blushes.
[Exeunt all but Bedamar, Renault, Jaffier, and Pierre.
Bed. Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead us?
Jaff. My Belvidera! Belvidera!
Enter Belvidera.
Belv. Who,
Who calls so loud at this late peaceful hour?
That voice was wont to come in gentle whispers,
And fill my ears with the soft breath of love.
Thou hourly image of my thoughts, where art thou?
Jaff. Indeed ’tis late.
Belv. Oh! I have slept, and dreamt,
And dreamt again. Where hast thou been, thou loiterer?
Though my eyes closed, my arms have still been opened,
Stretched every way betwixt my broken slumbers,
To search if thou wert come to crown my rest;
There’s no repose without thee. Oh, the day
Too soon will break, and wake us to our sorrow;
Come, come to bed, and bid thy cares good-night.
Jaff. O Belvidera! we must change the scene
In which the past delights of life were tasted:
The poor sleep little; we must learn to watch
Our labours late, and early every morning,
‘Midst winter frosts, thin clad and fed with sparing,
Rise to our toils, and drudge away the day.
Belv. Alas! where am I? whither is’t you lead me?
Methinks I read distraction in your face,
Something less gentle than the fate you tell me.
You shake and tremble too; your blood runs cold!
Heavens guard my love, and bless his heart with patience!
Jaff. That I have patience, let our fate bear witness,
Who has ordained it so, that thou and I —
Thou the divinest good man e’er possessed,
And I the wretched’st of the race of man —
This very hour, without one tear, must part.
>
Belv. Part! must we part? Oh! am I then forsaken?
Will my love cast me off? have my misfortunes
Offended him so highly that he’ll leave me?
Why drag you from me? whither are you going?
My dear! my life! my love!
Jaff. Oh, friends!
Belv. Speak to me.
Jaff. Take her from my heart;
She’ll gain such hold else, I shall ne’er get loose.
I charge thee take her; but with tenderest care
Relieve her troubles, and assuage her sorrows.
Ren. Rise, madam, and command amongst your servants.
Jaff. To you, sirs, and your honours, I bequeath her,
And with her this: when I prove unworthy — [Gives a dagger.
You know the rest — then strike it to her heart;
And tell her, he who three whole happy years
Lay in her arms, and each kind night repeated
The passionate vows of still-increasing love,
Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.
Belv. Nay, take my life, since he has sold it cheaply;
Or send me to some distant clime your slave,
But let it be far off, lest my complainings
Should reach his guilty ears, and shake his peace.
Jaff. No, Belvidera, I’ve contrived thy honour:
Trust to my faith, and be but fortune kind
To me as I preserve that faith unbroken!
When next we meet, I’ll lift thee to a height
Shall gather all the gazing world about thee,
To wonder what strange virtue placed thee there.
But if we ne’er meet more —
Belv. O thou unkind one!
Never meet more! have I deserved this from you?
Look on me, tell me; speak, thou dear deceiver;
Why am I separated from thy love?
If I am false, accuse me; but if true,
Don’t, pr’ythee don’t in poverty forsake me;
But pity the sad heart that’s torn with parting.
Yet hear me! yet recall me —
[Exeunt Renault, Bedamar, and Belvidera.
Jaff. O my eyes,
Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile
Into my heart, and be weaned altogether!
My friend, where art thou?
Pier. Here, my honour’s brother.
Jaff. Is Belvidera gone?
Pier. Renault has led her
Back to her own apartment: but, by Heaven!
Thou must not see her more till our work’s over.
Jaff. No?
Pier. Not for your life.
Jaff. O Pierre! wert thou but she,
How I could pull thee down into my heart,
Gaze on thee till my eye-strings cracked with love,
Till all my sinews, with its fire extended,
Fixed me upon the rack of ardent longing!
Then swelling, sighing, raging to be blest,
Come like a panting turtle to thy breast;
On thy soft bosom hovering, bill and play,
Confess the cause why last I fled away,
Own ’twas a fault, but swear to give it o’er,
And never follow false ambition more. [Exeunt.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I. — A Room in Aquilina’s House.
Enter Aquilina and her Maid.
Aquil. Tell him I am gone to bed: tell him I am not at home: tell him I’ve better company with me, or anything; tell him, in short, I will not see him, the eternal troublesome vexatious fool; he’s worse company than an ignorant physician. I’ll not be disturbed at these unseasonable hours.
Maid. But, madam, he’s here already, just entered the doors.
Aquil. Turn him out again, you unnecessary, useless, giddy-brained ass! If he will not be gone, set the house a-fire, and burn us both: I had rather meet a toad in my dish than that old hideous animal in my chamber to-night.
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Nacky, Nacky, Nacky — how dost do, Nacky? Hurry durry! I am come, little Nacky; past eleven o’clock, a late hour; time in all conscience to go to bed, Nacky — Nacky did I say? Ay, Nacky; Aquilina, lina, lina, quilina, quilina, quilina, Aquilina, Naquilina, Naquilina, Acky, Acky, Nacky, Nacky, queen Nacky — come, let’s to bed — you fubbs, you pug you — you little puss — purree tuzzy — I am a senator.
Aquil. You are a fool, I am sure.
Ant. Maybe so too, sweetheart. Never the worse senator for all that. Come, Nacky, Nacky, let’s have a game at romp, Nacky.
Aquil. You would do well, signior, to be troublesome here no longer, but leave me to myself; be sober, and go home, sir.
Ant. Home, Madonna?
Aquil. Ay, home, sir. Who am I?
Ant. Madonna, as I take it, you are my — you are — thou art my little Nicky Nacky — that’s all!
Aquil. I find you are resolved to be troublesome; and so, to make short of the matter in few words, I hate you, detest you, loathe you, I am weary of you, sick of you. Hang you, you are an old, silly, impertinent, impotent, solicitous coxcomb; crazy in your head and lazy in your body, love to be meddling with every thing; and if you had not money, you are good for nothing.
Ant. Good for nothing! Hurry durry, I’ll try that presently. Sixty-one years old, and good for nothing! that’s brave. [To the Maid.] Come, come, come, Mistress Fiddle-faddle, turn you out for a season; go, turn out, I say; it is our will and pleasure to be private some moments — out, out when you are bid too — [Puts her out and locks the door.] Good for nothing, you say?
Aquil. Why, what are you good for?
Ant. In the first place, madam, I am old, and consequently very wise, very wise, Madonna, d’ye mark that? in the second place, take notice, if you please, that I am a senator, and when I think fit can make speeches, Madonna. Hurry durry, I can make a speech in the Senate-house, now and then, would make your hair stand on end, Madonna.
Aquil. What care I for your speeches in the Senate-house? If you would be silent here, I should thank you.
Ant. Why, I can make speeches to thee too, my lovely Madonna; for example [Takes out a purse of gold, and at every pause shakes it]: —
My cruel fair one, since it is my fate
That you should with your servant angry prove,
Though late at night, I hope ’tis not too late
With this to gain reception for my love.
There’s for thee, my little Nicky Nacky — take it; here, take it — I say take it, or I’ll throw it at your head — how now, rebel!
Aquil. Truly, my illustrious senator, I must confess your honour is at present most profoundly eloquent indeed.
Ant. Very well: come, now let’s sit down and think upon’t a little — come sit, I say — sit down by me a little, my Nicky Nacky, hah — [Sits down] Hurry durry — good for nothing!
Aquil. No, sir; if you please, I can know my distance and stand.
Ant. Stand: how? Nacky up, and I down! Nay, then let me exclaim with the poet: —
Show me a case more pitiful who can,
A standing woman, and a falling man.
Hurry durry — not sit down — see this, ye gods! You won’t sit down?
Aquil. No, sir.
Ant. Then look you, now, suppose me a bull, a Basan-bull, the bull of bulls, or any bull. Thus up I get, and with my brows thus bent — I broo, I say, I broo, I broo, I broo. You won’t sit down, will you? I broo —— [Bellows like a bull, and drives her about.
Aquil. Well, sir; I must endure this. [She sits down.] Now your honour has been a bull, pray what beast will your worship please to be next?
Ant. Now I’ll be a senator again, and thy lover, little Nicky Nacky! [He sits by her.] Ah, toad, toad, toad, toad! spit in my face a little, Nacky — spit in my face, pr’ythee spit in my face, never so little: spit but a little bit — spit, spit, spit, spit, when you are bid, I say; do, pr’ythee spit — now, now, now spit. What, you won’t spit, w
ill you? then I’ll be a dog.
Aquil. A dog, my lord?
Ant. Ay, a dog — and I’ll give thee this t’other purse to let me be a dog — and to use me like a dog a little. Hurry durry — I will — here ’tis. [Gives the purse.
Aquil. Well; with all my heart. But let me beseech your dogship to play your tricks over as fast as you can, that you may come to stinking the sooner, and be turned out of doors, as you deserve.
Ant. Ay, ay — no matter for that — [He gets under the table] — that shan’t move me — now, bough waugh waugh, bough waugh! [Barks like a dog.
Aquil. Hold, hold, hold, sir, I beseech you; what is’t you do? If curs bite, they must be kicked, sir. Do you see? kicked thus.
Ant. Ay, with all my heart: do, kick, kick on; now I am under the table, kick again — kick harder — harder yet. Bough waugh waugh, waugh, bough — odd, I’ll have a snap at thy shins — bough waugh waugh, waugh, bough — odd, she kicks bravely.
Aquil. Nay then, I’ll go another way to work with you; and I think here’s an instrument fit for the purpose. [Fetches a whip and a bell.] What, bite your mistress, sirrah! out, out of doors, you dog, to kennel and be hanged! Bite your mistress by the legs, you rogue! [She whips him.
Ant. Nay, pr’ythee Nacky, now thou art too loving: hurry durry, odd, I’ll be a dog no longer.
Aquil. Nay, none of your fawning and grinning: but begone, or here’s the discipline: what, bite your mistress by the legs, you mongrel? Out of doors — hout, hout, to kennel, sirrah! go.
Ant. This is very barbarous usage, Nacky, very barbarous: look you, I will not go — I will not stir from the door, that I resolve — hurry durry, what, shut me out? [She whips him out.
Aquil. Ay; and it you come here any more to-night, I’ll have my footmen lug you, you cur! What, bite your poor mistress Nacky, sirrah?
Enter Maid,
Maid. Heavens, madam! what’s the matter?
[He howls at the door like a dog.
Aquil. Call my footmen hither presently.
Enter two Footmen.
Maid. They are here already, madam; the house is all alarmed with a strange noise, that nobody knows what to make of.
Aquil. Go all of you and turn that troublesome beast in the next room out of my house; if I ever see him within these walls again, without my leave for his admittance, you sneaking rogues, I’ll have you poisoned all, poisoned, like rats; every corner of the house shall stink of one of you: go, and learn hereafter to know my pleasure. [Exeunt Footmen and Maid.] So, now for my Pierre:
Thus when the godlike lover was displeased,
We sacrifice our fool, and he’s appeased. [Exit.