Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato.
Would Cæsar show the greatness of his soul,
Bid him employ his care for these my friends,
And make good use of his ill-gotten pow'r,
By shelt'ring men much better than himself.

Dec. Your high unconquer'd heart makes you forget
You are a man; you rush on your destruction.

But I have done. When I relate hereafter

The tale of this unhappy embassy,

All Rome will be in tears.

10.-SCENE FROM VENICE PRESERVED.

THOMAS OTWAY.

[Otway was born at Trotting, Sussex, in 1651, and was educated at Winchester and Oxford. He made some ineffectual attempts to become an actor, and then commenced as a writer for the stage. In 1675 his first tragedy, "Alcibiades," was produced, followed in the next year by his "Don Carlos,' which was very successful. He then served for a short time in a cavalry regiment in Flanders, but returned to resume his favourite occupation. His tragedy of "Venice Preserved" is a model for force and feeling, combined with the deep pathos that is always associated with scenes of domestic distress when touched by a master hand. He died at a publichouse in Tower-hill, where he had secreted himself from his creditors, and in a literally starving condition, in 1685 being then only in his 34th year.]

SCENE II.-The DUKE OF VENICE, PRIULI, and other Senators,

sitting.

Duke. Anthony, Priuli, senators of Venice,
Speak, why are we assembled here this night?
What have you to inform us of, concerns

The state of Venice' honour, or its safety?

Pri. Could words express the story I've to tell you,
Fathers, these tears were useless, these sad tears
That fall from my old eyes; but there is cause
We all should weep, tear off these purple robes,
And wrap ourselves in sackcloth, sitting down
On the sad earth, and cry aloud to heav'n:
Heav'n knows, if yet there be an hour to come
Ere Venice be no more.

Duke. How!

Pri. Nay, we stand

Upon the very brink of gaping ruin.

Within this city's form'd a dark conspiracy,

To massacre us all, our wives and children,
Kindred and friends; our palaces and temples
To lay in ashes: nay, the hour too fix'd;

The swords, for aught I know, drawn e'en this moment,
And the wild waste begun. From unknown hands
I had this warning; but, if we are men,

Let's not be tamely butcher'd, but do something
That may inform the world, in after ages,

Our virtue was not ruin'd, though we were.

[A noise without. Capt. Room, room, make room for some prisoners.

Duke. Give 'em entrance.

Enter JAFFIER, and CAPTAIN OF THE GUARDS.

Well, who are you?

Jaf. A villain!,

Would every man, that hears me,

Would deal so honestly, and own his title.

Duke. "Tis rumour'd that a plot has been contriv'd
Against this state, and you've a share in't too.
If you are a villain, to redeem your honour
Unfold the truth, and be restor❜d with mercy.

Jaf. Think not that I to save my life came hither;
I know its value better; but in pity

To all those wretches whose unhappy dooms

Are fix'd and seal'd. You see me here before you,
The sworn and covenanted foe of Venice:

But use me as my dealings may deserve,

And I may prove a friend.

Duke. The slave capitulates;

Give him the tortures.

Jaf. That you dare not do;

Your fear wont let you, nor the longing itch

To hear a story which you dread the truth of:

[Without.

Truth, which the fear of smart shall ne'er get from me.
Cowards are scar'd with threat'nings: boys are whipp'd

Into confessions; but a steady mind

Acts of itself, ne'er asks the body's counsel.

Give him the tortures! Name but such a thing

Again, by heav'n I'll shut these lips for ever.

Not all your racks, your engines, or your wheels,

Shall force a groan away, that you may guess at.
Duke. Name your conditions.

Jaf. For myself full pardon,

Besides the lives of two-and-twenty friends,

Whose names are here enroll'd. Nay, let their crimes
Be ne'er so monstrous, I must have the oaths

And sacred promises of this reverend council,
That, in a full assembly of the senate

The thing I ask be ratified. Swear this,
And I'll unfold the secret of your finger.
Duke. Propose the oath.
Jaf. By all the hopes

Ye have of peace and happiness hereafter,
Swear. Ye swear?

All Sen. We swear. (All the Council bow.)
Jaf. And, as ye keep the oath,

May you and your posterity be bless'd

Or curs'd for ever.

All Sen. Else be curs'd for ever. (They bow again.) Jaf. Then here's the list, and with't the full disclose Of all that threatens you. (Delivers a paper to the Officer, who gives it to the DUKE.)

Now, fate, thou hast caught me.

Duke. Give order that all diligent search be made To seize these men; their characters are public.

(The DUKE gives the first paper to the Officer.) The paper intimates their rendezvous

To be at the house of a fam'd Grecian courtezan
Call'd Aquilina; see that place secur'd.

You, Jaffier, must with patience bear till morning
To be our prisoner.

Jaf. Would the chains of death

Had bound me safe ere I had known this minute!

Duke. Captain, withdraw your prisoner.

Jaf. Sir, if possible,

Lead me where my own thoughts themselves may lose me;
Where I may doze out what I've left of life,

Forget myself, and this day's guilt and falsehood.
Cruel remembrance! how shall I appease thee?

[Exit, guarded.

Offi. (Without.) More traitors; room, room! make room there. Duke. How's this? guards!

Where are your guards? Shut up the gates; the treason's Already at our doors.

Enter Officer with PIERRE in fetters.

Offi. My lords, more traitors,

Seiz'd in the very act of consultation;

Furnish'd with arms, and instruments of mischief.
Pier. You, my lords, and fathers

(As you are pleas'd to call yourselves) of Venice;
If you sit here to guide the course of justice,
Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs
That have so often labour'd in your service?
Are these the wreaths of triumph ye bestow
On those that bring you conquest home, and honours ?
Duke. Go on; you shall be heard, sir.

Pier. Are these the trophies I've deserv'd for fighting

Your battles with confederated powers?

When winds and seas conspir'd to overthrow you;
And brought the fleets of Spain to your own harbours;
When you, great duke, shrunk trembling in your palace,
And saw your wife, the Adriatic, plough'd,

Like a lewd dame, by bolder prows than yours;
Stepp'd not I forth, and taught your loose Venetians
The task of honour, and the way to greatness?
Rais'd you from your capitulating fears
To stipulate the terms of sued-for peace?
And this my recompense! If I'm a traitor,
Produce my charge; or show the wretch that's base
And brave enough to tell me I'm a traitor.

Duke. Know you one Jaffier?

Pier. Yes, and know his virtue.

His justice, truth, his general worth, and sufferings
From a hard father, taught me first to love him.
Duke. See him brought forth.

Enter JAFFIER, guarded.

Pier. My friend, too, bound! nay, then

Our fate has conquer'd us, and we must fall.

Why droops the man whose welfare's so much mine,
They're but one thing? These reverend tyrants, Jaffier,
Call us traitors; art thou one, my brother ?
Jaf. To thee I am the falsest, veriest slave

That e'er betray'd a generous, trusting friend,
And gave up honour to be sure of ruin.

All our fair hopes which morning was t' have crowned,
Has this curst tongue o'erthrown.

Pier. So, then, all's over.

Venice has lost her freedom, I my life.

No more farewell!

Duke. Say will you make confession

Of your vile deeds, and trust the senate's mercy?

Pier. Curs'd be your senate! curs'd your constitution :

The curse of growing factions and divisions

Still vex your counsels, shake your public safety,

And make the robes of government you wear

Hateful to you, as these base chains to me.

Duke. Pardon, or death?

Pier. Death! honourable death!

Duke. Break up the council. Captain, guard your prisoners. Jaffier, you're free, but these must wait for judgment.

[The Captain takes off JAFFIER's chains. The DUKE and Council go away. The Conspirators, all but JAFFIER and PIERRE go off, guarded.

Pier. Come, where's my dungeon? Lead me to my straw: It will not be the first time I've lodg❜d hard

To do the senate service.

Jaf. Hold, one moment.

Pier. Who's he disputes the judgment of the senate? Presumptuous rebel! (Strikes JAFFIER.) On! (To Officer.) Jaf. By heav'n, you stir not!

I must be heard; Ï must have leave to speak.

Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow:
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?

But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me;
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries :
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,
With pity and with charity behold me:
And as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Listen with mildness to my supplications.

Pier. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely? Hence! I know thee not:
Leave, hypocrite!

Jaf. Not know me, Pierre ?
Pier. No, I know thee not.

What art thou?

Jaf. Jaffier, thy friend; thy once-loved, valued friend;
Though now deservedly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly.
Pier. Thou, Jaffier! thou, my once-loved, valued friend!
By heavens, thou liest! the man so call'd, my friend,
Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant;
Noble in mind, and in his person lovely;

Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart:

But thou,-a wretched, base, false, worthless coward,
Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect!
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.
Prythee avoid; nor longer cling thus round me,
Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.

Jaf. I have not wrong'd thee; by these tears I have not. Pier. Hast thou not wrong'd me? Dar'st thou call thyself That once-loved, valued friend of mine,

And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence these chains? Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment? Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one?

Jaf. All's true, yet grant one thing, and I've done asking. Pier. What's that?

Jaf. To take thy life, on such conditions

The council have propos'd: thou and thy friends

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself

A villain, for the privilege to breathe!

And carry up and down this curs'd city,
A discontented and repining spirit,

Burthensome to itself, a few years longer;

To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel

For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art!
No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,