nd what tempest shake us.
Who's there ]

_Enter Spinosa, L._

_Spin._ (L. C.) Renault, good morrow, for by this time,
I think, the scale of night has turned the balance,
And weighs up morning. Has the clock struck twelve?

_Ren._ (R.) Yes; clocks will go as they are set: but man
Irregular man's ne'er constant, never certain.
I've spent at least three precious hours of darkness
In waiting dull attendance; 'tis the curse
Of diligent virtue to be mixed, like mine,
With giddy tempers, souls but half resolved.

_Spin._ (L.) Hell seize that soul amongst us it can frighten!

_Ren._ (C.) What's then the cause that I am here alone?
Why are we not together?

_Enter Elliot, L._

Oh, sir, welcome!
You are an Englishman: when treason's hatching,
One might have thought you'd not have been behind hand.

_Elliot._ Frenchman, you are saucy.

_Ren._ (L. C.) How? _[Puts his hand to his sword._

_Enter Bedamar, Mezzana, Durand, and Theodore, L.--
Mezzana, Durand, and Theodore stand back, L._

_Beda._ [Crossing, C.] At difference? fie!
Is this a time for quarrels? Thieves and rogues
Fall out and brawl: should men of your high calling,
Men, separated by the choice of Providence
From the gross heap of mankind, and set here
In this assembly, as in one great jewel,
T' adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smiled on;
Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles?

_Ren._ (R. C.) Boys!

_Beda._ (C.) Renault, thy hand.

_Ren._ I thought I'd given my heart,
Long since, to every man that mingles here;
But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers,
That can't forgive my froward age its weakness.

_Beda._ Elliot, thou once hadst virtue. I have seen
Thy stubborn temper bend with godlike goodness,
Not half thus courted. 'Tis thy nation's glory
To hug the foe that offers brave alliance.
Once more, embrace, my friends--
United thus, we are the mighty engine,
Must twist this rooted empire from its basis.
Totters it not already?

_Elliot._ (L.) 'Would 'twere tumbling!

_Beda._ Nay, it shall down: this night we seal its ruin.

_Enter Pierre, L. D._
Oh, Pierre! thou art welcome.
Come to my breast; for, by its hopes, thou look'st
Lovelily dreadful; and the fate of Venice
Seems on thy