o,
Worthy their character.

_Jaf._ And what must I do?

_Pier._ Oh, Jaffier!

_Jaf._ Speak aloud thy burthen'd soul,
And tell thy troubles to thy tortur'd friend.

_Pier._ Friend! Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend,
I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.
Heav'n knows I want a friend.

_Jaf._ And I a kind one,
That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue,
Or think, when he's to die, my thoughts are idle.

_Pier._ No! live, I charge thee, Jaffier.

_Jaf._ Yes, I will live:
But it shall be to see thy fall reveng'd
At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for.

_Pier._ Wilt thou?

_Jaf._ I will, by heav'n.

_Pier._ Then still thou'rt noble,
And I forgive thee. Oh!--yet--shall I trust thee?

_Jaf._ No; I've been false already.

_Pier._ Dost thou love me?

_Jaf._ Rip up my heart, and satisfy my doubtings.

_Pier._ Curse on this weakness! [_weeps._

_Jaf._ Tears! Amazement! Tears!
I never saw thee melted thus before;
And know there's something labouring in thy bosom,
That must have vent: though I'm a villain, tell me.

_Pier._ See'st thou that engine? [_points to wheel._

_Jaf._ Why?

_Pier._ Is't fit a soldier, who has liv'd with honour,
Fought nation's quarrels, and been crown'd with conquest,
Be expos'd a common carcass on a wheel?

_Jaf._ Ha!

_Pier._ Speak! is't fitting?

_Jaf._ Fitting!

_Pier._ Yes; is't fitting?

_Jaf._ What's to be done?

_Pier._ I'd have thee undertake
Something that's noble, to preserve my memory
From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it.

_Offi._ The day grows late, sir.

_Pier._ I'll make haste. Oh, Jaffier!
Though thou'st betrayed me, do me some way justice.

_Jaf._ No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied;
I have a wife, and she shall bleed: my child, too,
Yield up his little throat, and all
T' appease thee---- [_going away, Pierre holds him._

_Pier._ No--this--no more. [_whispers Jaffier._

_Jaf._ Ha! is't then so?

_Pier._ Most certainly.

_Jaf._ I'll do it.

_Pier._ Remember!

_Offi._ Sir.

_Pier._ Come, now I'm ready. [_he & Jaf. ascend scaff._
Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour;
Keep off the rabble, that I may have room
To entertain my fate, and die with decency.
Come. [_takes off his gown, Executioner prepares._
You'll think on't. [_to Jaffier._

_Jaf._ 'Twon't grow stale before to-morrow.

_Pier._ Now, Jaffier! now I'm going. Now--