Complete Works of Thomas Otway

by Thomas Otway

Has used me like a slave, shamefully used me;

  ’Twould break thy pitying heart to hear the story!

  What shall I do? resentment, indignation,

  Love, pity, fear, and memory how I’ve wronged him,

  Distract my quiet with the very thought on’t,

  And tear my heart to pieces in my bosom.

  Belv. What has he done?

  Jaff. Thou’dst hate me, should I tell thee.

  Belv. Why?

  Jaff. Oh, he has used me — yet, by Heaven, I bear it!

  He has used me, Belvidera — but first swear

  That when I’ve told thee thou’lt not loathe me utterly,

  Though vilest blots and stains appear upon me;

  But still at least, with charitable goodness,

  Be near me in the pangs of my affliction —

  Not scorn me, Belvidera, as he has done.

  Belv. Have I then e’er been false, that now I’m doubted?

  Speak, what’s the cause I’m grown into distrust?

  Why thought unfit to hear my love’s complainings?

  Jaff. Oh!

  Belv. Tell me.

  Jaff. Bear my failings, for they’re many.

  O my dear angel! in that friend I’ve lost

  All my soul’s peace; for every thought of him

  Strikes my sense hard, and deads it in my brains.

  Wouldst thou believe it? —

  Belv. Speak.

  Jaff. Before we parted,

  Ere yet his guards had led him to his prison,

  Full of severest sorrows for his sufferings,

  With eyes o’erflowing, and a bleeding heart,

  Humbling myself almost beneath my nature,

  As at his feet I kneeled, and sued for mercy,

  Forgetting all our friendship, all the dearness

  In which we’ve lived so many years together,

  With a reproachful hand he dashed a blow:

  He struck me, Belvidera — by Heaven, he struck me,

  Buffeted, called me traitor, villain, coward.

  Am I a coward? am I a villain? tell me:

  Thou’rt the best judge, and madest me, if I am so.

  Damnation! coward!

  Belv. Oh! forgive him, Jaffier;

  And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already,

  What will they do to-morrow?

  Jaff. Ha!

  Belv. To-morrow;

  When thou shalt see him stretched in all the agonies

  Of a tormenting and a shameful death;

  His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs,

  Insulted o’er by a vile butchering villain; —

  What will thy heart do then? Oh, sure, ‘twill stream

  Like my eyes now.

  Jaff. What means thy dreadful story?

  Death, and to-morrow! broken limbs and bowels!

  Insulted o’er by a vile butchering villain!

  By all my fears, I shall start out to madness,

  With barely guessing, if the truth’s hid longer.

  Belv. The faithless senators, ’tis they’ve decreed it:

  They say, according to our friends’ request,

  They shall have death, and not ignoble bondage;

  Declare their promised mercy all as forfeited;

  False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession,

  Warrants are passed for public death to-morrow.

  Jaff. Death! doomed to die! condemned unheard! unpleaded!

  Belv. Nay, cruellest racks and torments are preparing,

  To force confessions from their dying pangs.

  Oh, do not look so terribly upon me:

  How your lips shake, and all your face disordered!

  What means my love?

  Jaff. Leave me, I charge thee, leave me! strong temptations

  Wake in my heart.

  Belv. For what?

  Jaff. No more; but leave me.

  Belv. Why?

  Jaff. Oh! by Heaven, I love thee with that fondness,

  I would not have thee stay a moment longer

  Near these cursed hands; are they not cold upon thee?

  Belv. No, everlasting comfort’s in thy arms.

  [Pulls the dagger half out of his bosom, and puts it back again.

  To lean thus on thy breast is softer ease

  Than downy pillows decked with leaves of roses.

  Jaff. Alas! thou think’st not of the thorns ’tis filled with;

  Fly ere they gall thee: there’s a lurking serpent

  Ready to leap and sting thee to thy heart:

  Art thou not terrified?

  Belv. No.

  Jaff. Call to mind

  What thou hast done, and whither thou hast brought me.

  Belv. Ha!

  Jaff. Where’s my friend? my friend, thou smiling mischief?

  Nay, shrink not, now ’tis too late; thou shouldst have fled

  When thy guilt first had cause; for dire revenge

  Is up, and raging for my friend. He groans!

  Hark how he groans! his screams are in my ears

  Already! see, they’ve fixed him on the wheel,

  And now they tear him — Murder! perjured Senate!

  Murder — Oh! — hark thee, traitress, thou’st done this;

  Thanks to thy tears and false-persuading love,

  [Fumbling for his dagger.

  How her eyes speak! O thou bewitching creature!

  Madness can’t hurt thee: come, thou little trembler,

  Creep even into my heart, and there lie safe;

  ’Tis thy own citadel — ha! — yet stand off:

  Heaven must have justice, and my broken vows

  Will sink me else beneath its reaching mercy;

  I’ll wink, and then ’tis done —

  Belv. What means the lord

  Of me, my life and love? what’s in thy bosom,

  Thou grasp’st at so? Nay, why am I thus treated?

  [He draws the dagger, and offers to stab her.

  What wilt thou do? Ah, do not kill me, Jaffier!

  Pity these panting breasts, and trembling limbs,

  That used to clasp thee when thy looks were milder,

  That yet hang heavy on my unpurged soul,

  And plunge it not into eternal darkness.

  Jaff. No, Belvidera; when we parted last,

  I gave this dagger with thee as in trust

  To be thy portion, if I e’er proved false.

  On such condition was my truth believed;

  But now ’tis forfeited, and must be paid for.

  [Offers to stab her again.

  Belv. Oh, mercy! [Kneeling.

  Jaff. Nay, no struggling.

  Belv. Now then kill me; [Leaps upon his neck, and kisses him.

  While thus I cling about thy cruel neck,

  Kiss thy revengeful lips, and die in joys

  Greater than any I can guess hereafter.

  Jaff. I am, I am a coward; witness it, Heaven;

  Witness it, earth; and every being, witness!

  ’Tis but one blow; yet, by immortal love,

  I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee.

  [Throws away the dagger, and embraces her.

  The seal of Providence is sure upon thee,

  And thou wert born for yet unheard-of wonders:

  Oh, thou wert either born to save or damn me!

  By all the power that’s given thee o’er my soul,

  By thy resistless tears and conquering smiles,

  By the victorious love that still waits on thee,

  Fly to thy cruel father, save my friend,

  Or all our future quiet’s lost for ever:

  Fall at his feet, cling round his reverend knees;

  Speak to him with thy eyes, and with thy tears

  Melt his hard heart, and wake dead nature in him;

  Crush him in thy arms, and torture him with thy softness;

  Nor, till thy prayers are granted, set him free,

  But conquer him, a
s thou hast vanquished me. [Exeunt.

  ACT THE FIFTH.

  SCENE I. — Before Priuli’s house.

  Enter Priuli.

  Priu. Why, cruel Heaven, have my unhappy days

  Been lengthened to this sad one? Oh! dishonour

  And deathless infamy is fallen upon me.

  Was it my fault? Am I a traitor? No.

  But then, my only child, my daughter wedded;

  There my best blood runs foul, and a disease

  Incurable has seized upon my memory,

  To make it rot and stink to after ages.

  Cursed be the fatal minute when I got her!

  Or would that I’d been anything but man,

  And raised an issue which would ne’er have wronged me!

  The miserablest creatures (man excepted)

  Are not the less esteemed, though their posterity

  Degenerate from the virtues of their fathers;

  The vilest beasts are happy in their offsprings;

  While only man gets traitors, whores, and villains.

  Cursed be the names, and some swift blow from fate

  Lay his head deep, where mine may be forgotten!

  Enter Belvidera in a long mourning veil.

  Belv. [Aside.] He’s there, my father, my inhuman father,

  That, for three years, has left an only child

  Exposed to all the outrages of fate

  And cruel ruin — Oh!

  Priu. What child of sorrow

  Art thou, that comest thus wrapped in weeds of sadness,

  And movest as if thy steps were towards a grave?

  Belv. A wretch, who from the very top of happiness,

  Am fallen into the lowest depths of misery,

  And want your pitying hand to raise me up again.

  Priu. Indeed, thou talk’st as thou hadst tasted sorrows;

  Would I could help thee.

  Belv. ’Tis greatly in your power;

  The world, too, speaks you charitable; and I,

  Who ne’er asked alms before, in that dear hope

  Am come a-begging to you, sir.

  Priu. For what?

  Belv. Oh, well regard me; is this voice a strange one?

  Consider, too, when beggars once pretend

  A case like mine, no little will content them.

  Priu. What wouldst thou beg for?

  Belv. Pity and forgiveness. [Throws up her veil.

  By the kind tender names of child and father,

  Hear my complaints, and take me to your love.

  Priu. My daughter!

  Belv. Yes, your daughter, by a mother

  Virtuous and noble, faithful to your honour,

  Obedient to your will, kind to your wishes,

  Dear to your arms: by all the joys she gave you,

  When in her blooming years she was your treasure,

  Look kindly on me; in my face behold

  The lineaments of hers you’ve kissed so often,

  Pleading the cause of your poor cast-off child.

  Priu. Thou art my daughter.

  Belv. Yes; — and you’ve oft told me

  With smiles of love, and chaste paternal kisses,

  I’d much resemblance of my mother.

  Priu. Oh!

  Hadst thou inherited her matchless virtues,

  I’d been too blest.

  Belv. Nay, do not call to memory

  My disobedience, but let pity enter

  Into your heart, and quite deface the impression;

  For could you think how mine’s perplexed, what sadness,

  Fears, and despairs distract the peace within me,

  Oh! you would take me in your dear, dear arms,

  Hover with strong compassion o’er your young one,

  To shelter me with a protecting wing,

  From the black gathered storm, that’s just, just breaking.

  Priu. Don’t talk thus.

  Belv. Yes, I must, and you must hear too.

  I have a husband —

  Priu. Damn him!

  Belv. Oh! do not curse him;

  He would not speak so hard a word towards you

  On any terms, howe’er he deal with me.

  Priu. Ha! what means my child?

  Bel. Oh, there’s but this short moment

  ‘Twixt me and fate: yet send me not with curses

  Down to my grave; afford me one kind blessing

  Before we part; just take me in your arms,

  And recommend me with a prayer to Heaven,

  That I may die in peace; and when I’m dead —

  Priu. How my soul’s catched!

  Belv. Lay me, I beg you, lay me

  By the dear ashes of my tender mother:

  She would have pitied me, had fate yet spared her.

  Priu. By Heaven, my aching heart forebodes much mischief.

  Tell me thy story, for I’m still thy father.

  Belv. No, I’m contented,

  Priu. Speak.

  Belv. No matter.

  Priu. Tell me.

  By yon blest Heaven, my heart runs o’er with fondness!

  Belv. Oh!

  Priu. Utter it.

  Belv. Oh, my husband, my dear husband

  Carries a dagger in his once kind bosom,

  To pierce the heart of your poor Belvidera.

  Priu. Kill thee?

  Belv. Yes, kill me. When he passed his faith

  And covenant against your state and Senate,

  He gave me up as hostage for his truth;

  With me a dagger, and a dire commission,

  Whene’er he failed, to plunge it through this bosom.

  I learnt the danger, chose the hour of love

  To attempt his heart, and bring it back to honour.

  Great Love prevailed, and blessed me with success;

  He came, confessed, betrayed his dearest friends

  For promised mercy. Now they’re doomed to suffer,

  Galled with remembrance of what then was sworn,

  If they are lost, he vows to appease the gods

  With this poor life, and make my blood the atonement.

  Priu. Heavens!

  Belv. Think you saw what passed at our last parting;

  Think you beheld him like a raging lion,

  Pacing the earth, and tearing up his steps,

  Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain

  Of burning fury; think you saw his one hand

  Fixed on my throat, whilst the extended other

  Grasped a keen threatening dagger; oh! ’twas thus

  We last embraced; when, trembling with revenge,

  He dragged me to the ground, and at my bosom

  Presented horrid death; cried out “My friends!

  Where are my friends?” swore, wept, raged, threatened, loved;

  For he yet loved, and that dear love preserved me

  To this last trial of a father’s pity.

  I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought

  That that dear hand should do the unfriendly office.

  If I was ever then your care, now hear me;

  Fly to the Senate, save the promised lives

  Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.

  Priu. Oh, my heart’s comfort!

  Belv. Will you not, my father?

  Weep not, but answer me.

  Priu. By Heaven, I will.

  Not one of them but what shall be immortal.

  Canst thou forgive me all my follies past?

  I’ll henceforth be indeed a father; never,

  Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,

  Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;

  Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o’er thee.

  Peace to thy heart! Farewell.

  Belv. Go, and remember

  ’Tis Belvidera’s life her father pleads for. [Exeunt severally.

  Enter Antonio.

  Ant. Hum, hum, hah; Signior Priuli, my lord Priuli, my lord, my lo
rd, my lord! How we lords love to call one another by our titles! My lord, my lord, my lord — Pox on him! I am a lord as well as he; and so let him fiddle. I’ll warrant him he’s gone to the Senate-house, and I’ll be there too, soon enough for somebody. Odd! here’s a tickling speech about the plot; I’ll prove there’s a plot with a vengeance — would I had it without book; let me see:— “Most reverend senators, — That there is a plot, surely by this time, no man that hath eyes or understanding in his head will presume to doubt; ’tis as plain as the light in the cucumber” — no — hold there — cucumber does not come in yet—”’tis as plain as the light in the sun, or as the man in the moon, even at noon-day: it is indeed a pumpkin-plot, which, just as it was mellow, we have gathered, and now we have gathered it, prepared and dressed it, shall we throw it like a pickled cucumber out at the window? no: that it is not only a bloody, horrid, execrable, damnable and audacious plot; but it is, as I may so say, a saucy plot; and we all know, most reverend fathers, that what is sauce for a goose is sauce for a gander: therefore, I say, as those blood-thirsty ganders of the conspiracy would have destroyed us geese of the Senate, let us make haste to destroy them; so I humbly move for hanging.” Ha, hurry durry! I think this will do; though I was something out, at first, about the sun and the cucumber.

  Enter Aquilina.

  Aquil. Good-morrow, senator.

  Ant. Nacky, my dear Nacky! ‘morrow, Nacky! Odd! I am very brisk, very merry, very pert, very jovial — ha-a-a-a-a — kiss me, Nacky; how dost thou do, my little tory rory strumpet? Kiss me, I say, hussy, kiss me.

  Aquil. Kiss me, Nacky! hang you, sir coxcomb, hang you, sir!

  Ant. Hayty tayty, is it so indeed? with all my heart, faith! “Hey then up go we,” faith— “hey then up go we,” dum dum derum dump. [Sings.

  Aquil. Signior.

  Ant. Madonna.

  Aquil. Do you intend to die in your bed?

  Ant. About threescore years hence much may be done, my dear.

  Aquil. You’ll be hanged, signior.

  Ant. Hanged, sweetheart! pr’ythee be quiet: hanged quoth-a! that’s a merry conceit, with all my heart; why, thou jokest, Nacky; thou art given to joking, I’ll swear; well, I protest, Nacky, nay, I must protest, and will protest, that I love joking dearly, mun. And I love thee for joking, and I’ll kiss thee for joking, and towze thee for joking; and odd, I have a devilish mind to take thee aside about that business for joking too; odd I have, and, “Hey then up go we,” dum dum derum dump. [Sings.

  Aquil. See you this, sir? [Draws a dagger.

  Ant. O laud, a dagger! O laud! it is naturally my aversion, I cannot endure the sight on’t; hide it, for Heaven’s sake, I cannot look that way till it be gone — hide it, hide it, oh, oh, hide it!

  Aquil. Yes, in your heart I’ll hide it.

  Ant. My heart! what, hide a dagger in my heart’s blood?