one?

_Pier._ Renault has led her
Back to her own apartment; but, by heav'n,
Thou must not see her more, till our work's over.

_Jaf._ No!

_Pier._ Not for your life.

_Jaf._ Oh, Pierre, wert thou but she,
How I would pull thee down into my heart,
Gaze on thee, till my eye-strings crack'd with love;
Then, swelling, sighing, raging to be blest,
Come like a panting turtle to thy breast;
On thy soft bosom hovering, bill and play,
Confess the cause why last I fled away;
Own 'twas a fault, but swear to give it o'er,
And never follow false ambition more. [_exeunt._

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I. A CHAMBER.

_Enter Belvidera._

_Bel._ I'm sacrific'd! I'm sold! betray'd to shame!
Inevitable ruin has enclos'd me!
He that should guard my virtue has betray'd it;
Left me! undone me! Oh, that I could hate him!
Where shall I go? Oh, whither, whither, wander?

_Enter Jaffier._

_Jaf._ Can Belvidera want a resting-place,
When these poor arms are ready to receive her?
There was a time----

_Bel._ Yes, yes, there was a time,
When Belvidera's tears, her cries, and sorrows,
Were not despis'd; when, if she chanc'd to sigh,
Or look'd but sad--there was indeed a time,
When Jaffier would have ta'en her in his arms,
Eas'd her declining head upon his breast,
And never left her till he found the cause.

_Jaf._ Oh, Portia, Portia! what a soul was thine!

_Bel._ That Portia was a woman; and when Brutus,
Big with the fate of Rome, (heav'n guard thy safety!)
Conceal'd from her the labours of his mind;
She let him see her blood was great as his,
Flow'd from a spring as noble, and a heart
Fit to partake his troubles as his love.
Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower,
Thou gav'st last night in parting with me; strike it
Here to my heart; and, as the blood flows from it,
Judge if it run not pure, as Cato's daughter's.

_Jaf._ Oh! Belvidera!

_Bel._ Why was I last night deliver'd to a villain?

_Jaf._ Ha! a villain?

_Bel._ Yes, to a villain! why at such an hour
Meets that assembly, all made up of wretches?
Why, I in this hand, and in that a dagger,
Was I deliver'd with such dreadful ceremonies?
To you, sirs, and to your honours, I bequeath her,
And with her this: whene'er I prove unworthy--
You know the rest--then strike it to her heart.
Oh! why's that rest conceal'd from me? must I
Be made the hostage of a hellish trust?
For such I know I am; that's all my value.
But, by the love and loyalty I o