Pier. Now thou'st indeed been faithful.
This was done nobly--We have deceiv'd the senate.
Jaff. Bravely.
Pier. Ha ha ha--oh oh
Jaff. Now, ye curst rulers,
Thus of the blood you've shed I make libation,
And sprinkle't mingling: may it rest upon you,
And all your race: be henceforth peace a stranger
Within your walls; let plagues and famine waste
Your generations-Oh poor Belvidera!
Sir, I've a wife, bear this in safety to her :
A token, that with my dying breath I blest her,
And the dear little infant left behind me.
I'm sick-I'm quiet-
Offi. Bear this news to th' senate,
And guard their bodies till there's farther order:
Heav'n grant I die so well— [Scene shuts upon them.
Soft Music. Enter BELVIDERA distracted, led by two of her Women, PRIULI and Servants.
Priu. Strengthen her heart with patience, pitying heav'n!
Belv. Come, come, come, come; nay, come to bed, Pr'ythee, my love. The winds! hark how they whistle! And the rain beats: oh how the weather shrinks me! You're angry now; who cares? pish, no indeed. Choose then, I say you shall not go, you shall not. Whip your ill-nature; get you gone then; oh!
[Jaffier's Ghost rises. Are you return'd? See, father, here he's come again : Am I to blame to love him? oh, thou dear one!
[Ghost sinks. Why do you fly me? are you angry still then? Jaffier! where art thou? Father, why do you do thus ? Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here some
Stand off, I say! what gone? remember't, tyrant!
I may revenge myself for this trick one day.
Enter Officer and others.
I'll do't-I'll do't. Renault's a nasty fellow :
Hang hin, hang him, hang him.
Priu. News, what news? [Officer whispers Priuli.
Offi. Most sad, sir.
Jaffer, upon the scaffold, to prevent
A shameful death, stabb'd Pierre, and next himself:
Both fell together.
[The Ghosts of Jaffier and Pierre rise together, both bloody.
My husband bloody, and his friend too! Murder!
Who has done this? speak to me, thou sad vision,
On these poor trembling knees I beg it; vanish'd!-
Here they went down: Oh I'll dig, dig the den up.
You shan't delude me thus. Hoa, Jaffier, Jaffier,
Peep up and give me but a look. I have him!
I've got him, father: oh now how I'll smuggle him!
My love! my dear! my blessing! help me! help me!
They've hold on me, and drag me to the bottom.
Nay-now they pull so hard-farewell-
Maid. She's dead.
Breathless and dead.
Priu. Then guard me from the sight on't:
Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning;
Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sun
May never enter: hang it round with black;
Set up one taper that may last a day
As long as I've to live: and there all leave me:
Sparing no tears when you this tale relate,
But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate. [Curtain falls. [Exeunt omnes.
THE text is done, and now for application,
And when that's ended, pass your approbation.
Tho' the conspiracy's prevented here,
Methinks I see another hatching there;
And there's a certain faction fain would sway,
If they had strength enough, and damn this play.
But this the author bid me boldly say;
If any take his plainness in ill part,
He's glad on't from the bottom of his heart;
Poets in honour of the truth should write,
With the same spirit brave men for it fight;
And tho' against him causeless hatreds rise,
And daily where he goes of late, he spies
The scowls of sullen and revengeful eyes:
'Tis what he knows with much contempt to bear,
And serves a cause too good to let him fear:
He fears no poison from an incens'd drab,
No ruffian's five-foot-sword, nor rascal's stab;
Nor any other snares of mischief laid,
Not a Rose-alley cudgel-ambuscade* ;
From any private cause where malice reigns,
Or gen'ral pique all blockheads have to brains:
Nothing shall daunt his pen when truth does call;
No, not the picture-mangler at Guildhall.
The rebel tribe, of which that vermin's one,
Have now set forward, and their course begun;
And while that prince's figure they deface,
As they before had massacred his name,
Durst their base fears but look him in the face,
They'd use his person as they've us'd his fame:
A severe attack upon Dryden, in Rose-street, Covent-garden, December 1679; in consequence, it is supposed, of his being reputed the author of the Essay on Satire. The preceding verse probably contains an allusion to the stabbing of Mr. Scroop by sir Thomas Armstrong, in the pit of the Duke's Theatre; mentioned by Langbaine (Dram. Poets, p. 460.)
The rascal that cut the duke of York's picture. 0.-The same incident is referred to by other writers. The picture was cut from the legs downwards.
A face in which such lineaments they read
Of that great martyr's, whose rich blood they shed,
That their rebellious hate they still retain,
And in his son would murder him again.
With indignation, then, let each brave heart,
Rouse and unite to take his injur'd part;
Till royal love and goodness call him home*,
And songs of triumph meet him as he come;
Till heav'n his honour and our peace restore,
And villains never wrong his virtue more.
The duke was then in a sort of exile in Scotland.
-Hic noster auctores habet; Quorum æmulari exoptat negligentiam Potius, quam istorum obscuram diligentiam. Dehinc ut quiescant porrò, moneo, et desinant Maledicere, malefacta ne noscant sua.
TERENT. PROLOG. AD AND.
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