d!

_Bel._ Oh! forgive him, Jaffier;
And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already,
What will they do to-morrow?

_Jaf._ Ah!

_Bel._ To-morrow,
When thou shalt see him stretch'd 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.

_Jaf._ What means thy dreadful story?
Death, and to-morrow! Broken limbs and bowels!

_Bel._ 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 promis'd mercy all has forfeited:
False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession,
Warrants are pass'd for public death to-morrow.

_Jaf._ Death! doom'd to die! condemn'd unheard! unpleaded!

_Bel._ Nay, cruel'st racks and torments are preparing
To force confession from their dying pangs.
Oh! do not look so terribly upon me!
How your lips shake, and all your face disorder'd!
What means my love?

_Jaf._ Leave me, I charge thee, leave me.--Strong temptations
Wake in my heart.

_Bel._ For what?

_Jaf._ No more, but leave me.

_Bel._ Why?

_Jaf._ Oh! by heav'n, I love thee with that fondness,
I would not have thee stay a moment longer
Near these curs'd hands. Are they not cold upon thee?
[_pulls the dagger half out of his bosom, and puts it back again._

_Bel._ No, everlasting comfort's in thy arms.
To lean thus on thy breast, is softer ease
Than downy pillows, deck'd with leaves of roses.

_Jaf._ Alas! thou think'st not of the thorns 'tis fill'd with:
Fly, ere they gall thee. There's a lurking serpent,
Ready to leap and sting thee to the heart:
Art thou not terrified?

_Bel._ No.

_Jaf._ Call to mind
What thou hast done, and whither thou hast brought me.

_Bel._ Hah!

_Jaf._ 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 fix'd him on the wheel,
And now they tear him.--Murder! Perjur'd senate!
Murder.--Oh!--Hark thee, traitress, thou hast done this!
Thanks to thy tears, and false persuading love.
How her eyes speak! Oh, thou bewitching creature!

[_fumbling for his dagger._

Madness can't hurt thee. Come, thou little tremb