e public good,
And villains fatten with the brave man's labours.

_Pierre._ [_Returns to L. C._] We've neither safety, unity,
nor peace,
For the foundation's lost of common good;
Justice is lame, as well as blind, amongst us;
The laws (corrupted to their ends that make them,)
Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny,
That every day starts up, t'enslave us deeper.
Now [_Lays his hand on Jaffier's arm_,] could this glorious
cause but find out friends
To do it light, oh, Jaffier! then might'st thou
Not wear those seals of woe upon thy face;
The proud Priuli should be taught humanity,
And learn to value such a son as thou art.
I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment.

_Jaf._ Cursed be the cause, though I, thy friend, be part
on't:
Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom,
For I am used to misery, and perhaps
May find a way to sweeten't to thy spirit.

_Pierre._ [_Turns, L. and looks over a shoulder_.] Too soon
'twill reach thy knowledge--

_Jaf._ Then from thee
Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship,
Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing,
Strengthen my constancy, and welcome ruin.

_Pierre._ Then thou art ruined!

_Jaf._ That I long since knew;
I and ill fortune have been long acquainted.

_Pierre._ I passed this very moment by thy doors,
And found them guarded by a troop of villains;
"The sons of public rapine were destroying."
They told me, by the sentence of the law
They had commission to seize all thy fortune:
Nay, more, Priuli's cruel band had signed it.
Here stood a ruffian, with a horrid face,
Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate,
Tumbled into a heap for public sale:
There was another making villainous jests
At thy undoing: he had ta'en possession
Of all thy ancient, most domestic ornaments;
Rich hangings, intermixed and wrought with gold
The very bed, which, on thy wedding night,
Received thee to the arms of Belvidera,
The scene of all thy joys, was violated
By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains,
And thrown amongst the common lumber.

_Jaf._Now, thank heaven--

_Pierre._ Thank heaven! for what?

_Jaf._That I'm not worth a ducat.

_Pierre._ Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of Venice,
W