Dar'st thou, presumptuous, to invade my rights!
Restore him quickly to my longing arms,
And with him give me back his broken vows,
For perjured as he is, he still is mine,

Or I will rend them from thy bleeding heart.
Stat. Alas, Roxana! 'tis not in my power;
I cannot if I would-and oh, ye gods!
What were the world to Alexander's loss !

Rox. Oh, sorceress! to thy accursed charms
I owe the frenzy that distracts my soul;

To them I owe my Alexander's loss:

Too late thou tremblest at my just revenge,

My wrongs cry out, and vengeance will have way.
Stat. Yet think, Roxana, ere you plunge in murder,
Think on the horrors that must ever haunt you;
Think on the Furies, those avenging ministers
Of Heaven's high wrath, how they will tear your soul,
All day distract you with a thousand fears;
And when by night thou vainly seek'st repose,
They'll gather round and interrupt your slumbers,
With horrid dreams and terrifying visions.

Rox. Add still, if possible, superior horrors.
Rather than leave my great revenge unfinished,
I'll dare 'em all, and triumph in the deed;

Therefore

[Holds up the dagger. Stat. Hold, hold thy hand advanced in air: I read my sentence written in thine eyes; Yet oh, Roxana! on thy black revenge One kindly ray of female pity beam;

And give me death in Alexander's presence.

Rox. Not for the world's wide empire shouldst thou see

him.

Fool! but for him thou mightst unheeded live;
For his sake only art thou doomed to die;
The sole remaining joy that glads my soul,
Is to deprive thee of the heart I've lost.

Enter Slave.

Slave. Madam, the king and all his guards are come, With frantic rage they thunder at the gate,

And must ere this have gained admittance.

Rox. Ha!

Too long I've trifled. Let me then redeem

The time misspent, and make great vengeance sure.
Stat. Is Alexander, oh ye gods! so nigh,

And can he not preserve me from her fury?

Rox. Nor he, nor Heaven, shall shield thee from my justice.

Die, sorceress, die, and all my wrongs die with thee!

[Stabs her.

Thomas Otway.

VENICE

PRESERVED.

JAFFIER, young Nobleman of Venice, of reduced Fortune, marries BELVIDERA, Daughter of PRIULI, a Senator of Venice, contrary to the wishes of her Father, who disinherits her. JAFFIER, in his destitution, solicits assistance from PRIULI, and is repelled with scorn and contumely by the enraged Father. While smarting with the sense of his degradation, JAFFIER is met by his Friend PIERRE, who has headed a Conspiracy to overturn the Government of Venice.

PRIULI, JAFFIER.

Pri.... Home, and be humble; study to retrench; Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,

Those pageants of thy folly:

Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state:

Then, to some suburb cottage both retire;

Drudge to feed loathsome life; get brats, and starve—
Home, home, I say!

Jaf. Yes, if my heart would let me—

This proud, this swelling heart: home I would go,
But that my doors are baleful to my eyes,

Filled and dammed up with gaping creditors. . . .

I've now not fifty ducats in the world,

Yet still I am in love, and pleased with ruin.

O Belvidera! Oh! she is my wife

And we will bear our wayward fate together,
But ne'er know comfort more.

Enter PIERRE.

Pier. My friend, good-morrow!

How fares the honest partner of my heart?

What, melancholy! not a word to spare me?

[Exit.

Jaf. I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damned starving quality,

Called honesty, got footing in the world.

Pier. Why, powerful villany first set it up, For its own ease and safety. Honest men Are the soft, easy cushions on which knaves Repose and fatten. Were all mankind villains, They'd starve each other; lawyers would want practice, Cut-throats rewards: each man would kill his brother Himself; none would be paid or hanged for murder. Honesty! 'twas a cheat invented first

To bind the hands of bold, deserving rogues,

That fools and cowards might sit safe in power,
And lord it uncontrolled above their betters.
Jaf. Then honesty is but a notion?
Pier. Nothing else;

Like wit, much talked of, not to be defined:

He that pretends to most, too, has least share in't. "Tis a ragged virtue.-Honesty! no more on't. Jaf. Sure, thou art honest!

Pier. So, indeed, men think me;

But they're mistaken, Jaffier: I'm a rogue
As well as they;

A fine, gay, bold-faced villain, as thou seest me.
'Tis true, I pay my debts, when they're contracted;

I steal from no man; would not cut a throat
To gain admission to a great man's purse,
Or a whore's bed; I'd not betray my friend

To get his place or fortune; I scorn to flatter

A blown-up fool above me, or crush the wretch beneath me; Yet, Jaffier, for all this I'm a villain.

Faf. A villain!

Pier. Yes, a most notorious villain ;

To see the sufferings of my fellow-creatures,
And own myself a man: to see our senators
Cheat the deluded people with a show

Of liberty, which yet they ne'er must taste of.
They say, by them our hands are free from fetters;
Yet whom they please they lay in basest bonds;
Bring whom they please to infamy and sorrow;
Drive us, like wrecks, down the rough tide of power,
Whilst no hold's left to save us from destruction.
All that bear this are villains, and I one,

Not to rouse up at the great call of Nature,

And check the growth of these domestic spoilers,
That make us slaves, and tell us, 'tis our charter.

Jaf. I think no safety can be here for virtue,
And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live
In such a wretched state as this of Venice,
Where all agree to spoil the public good,

And villains fatten with the brave man's labours.
Pier. We've neither safety, unity, nor peace,
For the foundation's lost of common good;
Justice is lame, as well as blind, amongst us;
The laws (corrupted to their ends that make 'em)
Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny,
That every day starts up, t' enslave us deeper.
Now, could this glorious cause but find out friends
To do it right, O Jaffier! then might'st thou
Not wear these seals of woe upon thy face;
The proud Priuli should be taught humanity,
And learn to value such a son as thou art.

I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment.
Jaf. Cursed be the cause, though I thy friend be part

on't:

Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom,

For I am used to misery, and perhaps

May find a way to sweeten 't to thy spirit.
Pier. Too soon 'twill reach thy knowledge-
Jaf. Then from thee

Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship,
Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing,
Strengthen my constancy, and welcome ruin.
Pier. Then thou art ruined!

Faf. That I long since knew;

I and ill fortune have been long acquainted.