d
The way to melt, and cast me as you will.
I 'll fetch this friend, and give him to your mercy;
Nay, he shall die, if you will take him from me;
For your repose, I'll quit my heart's best jewel;
But would not have him torn away by villains,
And spiteful villainy.

_Spin._ _[And other Conspirators stand, R.]_ No; may ye both
Forever live, and fill the world with fame!

_Pierre._ Now, you're too kind. Whence arose all this discord?
Oh! what a dangerous precipice have we 'scaped!
How near a fall was all we'd long been building!
What an eternal blot had stained our glories,
If one, the bravest and the best of men,
Had fall'n a sacrifice to rash suspicion,
Butchered by those, whose cause he came to cherish!
Oh, could you know him all, as I have known him,
How good he is, how just, how true, how brave,
You would not leave this place, till you had seen him,
And gained remission for the worst of follies.
Come but to-morrow, all your doubts shall end,
And to your loves, me better recommend,
That I've preserved your fame, and saved my friend.

_[Exeunt Conspirators, R., Pierre L_

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

_Scene I.--A Street._

_Enter Belvidera and Jaffier, L._

_Jaf._ (L. C.) Where dost thou lead me? Ev'ry step I move,
Methinks I tread upon some mangled limb
Of a racked friend. Oh, my dear, charming ruin!
Whare are we wandering?

_Bel._ (R. C.) To eternal honour!
To do a deed, shall chronicle thy name
Among the glorious legends of those few
That have saved sinking nations. Every street
Shall be adorned with statues to thy honour:
And, at thy feet, this great inscription written--
"Remember him, thai propped the fall of Venice!"

_Jaf._ Rather, remember him, who, after all
The sacred bonds of oaths, and holier friendship,
In fond compassion to a woman's tears,
Forgot his manhood, virtue, truth, and honour,
To sacrifice the bosom that relieved him.
Why wilt thou damn me?

_Bel._ Oh, inconstant man!
How will you promise! how will you deceive!
Do, return back, replace me in my bondage,
Tell all thy friends how dangerously thou lov'st me,
And let thy dagger do its bloody office.
Or, if thou think'st it nobler, let me live,
Till I'm a victim to the hateful