The thing I ask be ratified. Swear this,
And I'll unfold the secret of your finger.
Duke. Propose the oath.
Jaf. By all the hopes

Ye have of peace and happiness hereafter,
Swear. Ye swear?

All Sen. We swear. (All the Council bow.)
Jaf. And, as ye keep the oath,

May you and your posterity be bless'd

Or curs'd for ever.

All Sen. Else be curs'd for ever. (They bow again.)

Jaf. Then here's the list, and with't the full disclose Of all that threatens you. (Delivers a paper to the Officer, who gives it to the DUKE.)

Now, fate, thou hast caught me.

Duke. Give order that all diligent search be made To seize these men; their characters are public.

(The DUKE gives the first paper to the Officer.) The paper intimates their rendezvous

To be at the house of a fam'd Grecian courtezan
Call'd Aquilina; see that place secur'd.

You, Jaffier, must with patience bear till morning
To be our prisoner.

Jaf. Would the chains of death

Had bound me safe ere I had known this minute!

Duke. Captain, withdraw your prisoner.

Jaf. Sir, if possible,

Lead me where my own thoughts themselves may lose me;

Where I may doze out what I've left of life,

Forget myself, and this day's guilt and falsehood.

Cruel remembrance! how shall I appease thee?

[Exit, guarded.

Offi. (Without.) More traitors; room, room! make room there. Duke. How's this? guards!

Where are your guards? Shut up the gates; the treason's Already at our doors.

Enter Officer with PIERRE in fetters.

Offi. My lords, more traitors,

Seiz'd in the very act of consultation;

Furnish'd with arms, and instruments of mischief.
Pier. You, my lords, and fathers

(As you are pleas'd to call yourselves) of Venice;
If you sit here to guide the course of justice,
Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs
That have so often labour'd in your service?
Are these the wreaths of triumph ye bestow
On those that bring you conquest home, and honours ?
Duke. Go on; you shall be heard, sir.

Pier. Are these the trophies I've deserv'd for fighting

Your battles with confederated powers?

When winds and seas conspir'd to overthrow you;
And brought the fleets of Spain to your own harbours;
When you, great duke, shrunk trembling in your palace,
And saw your wife, the Adriatic, plough'd,

?

Like a lewd dame, by bolder prows than yours;
Stepp'd not I forth, and taught your loose Venetians
The task of honour, and the way to greatness
Rais'd you from your capitulating fears
To stipulate the terms of sued-for peace?
And this my recompense! If I'm a traitor,
Produce my charge; or show the wretch that's base
And brave enough to tell me I'm a traitor.

Duke. Know you one Jaffier?

Pier. Yes, and know his virtue.

His justice, truth, his general worth, and sufferings
From a hard father, taught me first to love him.
Duke. See him brought forth.

Enter JAFFIER, guarded.

Pier. My friend, too, bound! nay, then

Our fate has conquer'd us, and we must fall.

Why drops the man whose wellfare's so much mine,

They're but one thing? These reverend tyrants, Jaffier,
Call us traitors; art thou one, my brother?

Jaf. To thee I am the falsest, veriest slave

That e'er betrayed a generous, trusting friend,

And gave up honour to be sure of ruin.

All our fair hopes which morning was t' have crowned,
Has this curst tongue o'erthrown.

Of your vile deeds, aud trust the senate's mercy ?

Pier. Curs'd be your senate! curs'd your constitution:

The curse of growing factions and divisions

Still vex your counsels, shake your public safety,

And make the robes of government you wear

Hateful to you, as these base chains to me.

Duke. Pardon, or death?

Pier. Death! honourable death!

Duke. Break up the council. Captain, guard your prisoners.

Jaffier, you're free, but these must wait for judgment.

[The Captain takes off JAFFIER's chains.

The DUKE

and Council go away. The Conspirators, all but JAFFIER and PIERRE, go off, guarded.

Pier. Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me to my straw:

It will not be the first time I've lodg'd hard

To do the senate service.

Jaf. Hold, one moment.

Pier. Who's he disputes the judgment of the senate? Presumptuous rebel! (Strikes JAFFIER.) On! (To Officer.) Jaf. By heav'n, you stir not!

I must be heard; I must have leave to speak.
Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow:
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice ?

But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me;
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries:
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,
With pity and with charity behold me:
And as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Listen with mildness to my supplications.

Pier. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely? Hence! I know thee not:
Leave, hypocrite!

What art thou?

Jaf. Not know me, Pierre ?
Pier. No, I know thee not.
Jaf. Jaffier, thy friend; thy once-loved, valued friend;
Though now deservedly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly.
Pier. Thou, Jaffier! thou, my once-loved, valued friend!
By heavens, thou liest! the man so call'd, my friend,
Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant;
Noble in mind, and in his person lovely;

Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart:

But thou,-a wretched, base, false, worthless coward,
Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect!
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.
Prythee avoid; nor longer cling thus round me,
Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.

Jaf. I have not wrong'd thee; by these tears I have not. Pier. Hast thou not wrong'd me? Dar'st thou call thyself That once-loved, valued friend of mine,

And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence these chains? Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment? Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one?

Jaf. All's true, yet grant one thing, and I've done asking. Pier. What's that?

Jaf. To take thy life, on such conditions

The council have propos'd: thou and thy friends

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself

A villain, for the privilege to breathe!

And carry up and down this curs'd city,
A discontented and repining spirit,

Burthensome to itself, a few years longer;

To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel

For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art!
No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,

And cannot part on better terms than now,
When only men like thee are fit to live in't.
Jaf. By all that's just-

Pier. Swear by some other powers,

For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.
Jaf. Then, by that hell I merit, I'll not leave thee
Till to thyself at least thou'rt reconcil'd,

However thy resentment deal with me.

Pier. Not leave me.

Jaf. No, thou shalt not force me from thee.
Use me reproachfully, and like a slave;
Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
On my poor head; I'll bear it all with patience
Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty:
Lie at thy feet, and kiss 'em though they spurn me,
Till wounded by my sufferings, thou relent,
And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness.
Pier. Art thou not-

Jaf. What?

Pier. A traitor ?
Jaf. Yes.

Pier. A villain ?

Jaf. Granted.

Pier. A coward, a most scandalous coward; Spiritless, void of honour; one who has sold

Thy everlasting fame for shameless life?

Jaf. All, all and more, much more: my faults are numberless.

Pier. And would'st thou have me live on terms like thine? Base as thou art false

Jaf. No: 'tis to me that's granted:

The safety of thy life was all I aim'd at,

In recompense for faith and trust so broken.

Pier. I scorn it more because preserv'd by thee;
And, as when first my foolish heart took pity
On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries,
Relieved thy wants, and raised thee from the state
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plung'd thee,
To rank thee in my list of noble friends,

All I receiv'd, in surety for thy truth,

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,

Giv'n with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stol'n:
So I restore it back to thee again;

Swearing by all those powers which thou hast violated,
Never, from this curs'd hour, to hold communion,
Friendship, or interest, with thee, though our years
Were to exceed those limited the world.

Take it; farewell-for now I owe thee nothing.
Jaf. Say, thou wilt live then.

Pier. For my life, dispose it

Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tir'd with.

Jaj. Oh, Pierre.

Pier. No more.

Jaf. My eyes wont lose sight of thee,

But languish after thee, and ache with gazing.

Pier. Leave me. Nay then, thus, thus I throw thee from me; And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee.

Jaf. Amen.

He's gone, my father, friend, preserver!
And here's the portion he has left me:
(Holds the dagger up.)

[Exit, guarded.

This dagger. Well remember'd! with this dagger,
I gave a solemn vow, of dire importance;
Parted with this and Belvidera together.

Have a care, mem'ry, drive that thought no farther:
No, I'll esteem it as a friend's last legacy;
Treasure it up within this wretched bosom,
Where it may grow acquainted with my heart,
That when they meet they start not from each other.

So, now for thinking. A blow!-call'd a traitor, villain,
Coward, dishonourable coward! faugh!

Oh! for a long, sound sleep, and so forget it!

SCENE FROM THE SCHOOL OF REFORM.

THOMAS MORTON.

[Thomas Morton, the prolific and successful dramatist, was born at Durham in 1764. He entered Lincoln's Inn with the intention of following the law as a profession; but his first piece proving successful, he continued to write for the stage. Among his pieces may be named "Speed the Plough," "The School of Reform," and "A Rowland for an Oliver." He died, 1838.]

LORD AVONDALE, FERMENT, ROBERT TYKE, an OLD MAN.

An Apartment in Avondale Castle; two chairs.

Enter LORD AVONDALE, R.; he pauses, then proceeds to opposite door off stage, and opens it.-TYKE enters from it.

Ld. A. (R.) Come hither-How is this, Robert? When I left England you were a youth, whose example was pointed out as an object of imitation-your morals were pure, your industry exemplary -how is it, then, that I now see you an abandoned outcast? Tyke. (L.) Ah, sur, it was all along wi' you.

Ld. A. Me! was not my bounty ample? did not I give you independence ?

Tyke. Ah, that was it-when you sent me that little child to take

care on

Ld. A. Hush!

Tyke. Well, well;-and that big lump of money! you see, as I had not worked for it, it made me quite fidgety; I always had my