THE TWO FRIENDS. From "VENICE PRESERVED.' OTWAY. CHARACTERS: PIERRE, a Venitian Officer, JAFFIER, his friend, and husband of Belvidera. [This magnificent tragedy,-the production of Thomas Otway,-has few equals in the whole range of dramatic literature. It has a melancholy interest from the fact that its gifted author is said to have perished from too hastily devouring food, after almost famishing from hunger. The story of the play is from the historical records of the Republic of Venice-a conspiracy having been formed to overthrow the tyranny of the Council of Ten. The leading characters-Pierre, Jaffier and Belvidera-have gained renown for such great performers as Garrick, Barry, and Mrs. Siddons, in the past; and in our own time many eminent performers have gathered laurels by their personation of these effective portraitures. Pierre is a fine, bluff soldier-outspoken, and fearless-Jaffler, his friend, is no less brave, but of a gentle, tender and yielding disposi. tion. The following scene occurs in front of the Church of St. Mark; but the view of the Cathedral is by no means necessary. Pierre should wear a white doublet and blue Venitian fly embroi dered, white tights, russet boots, black felt hat, and plumes; Jaffier, a somewhat similar apparel, but with dark colors predominant. Both have swords. Note.-It will be borne in mind, that the Scenery and Costume here described is by no means essential to the recitation of the piecesbut they add to the effect.] Discover JAFFIER, to whom enter PIERRE, L. S. E. PIERRE (L. C.). My friend, good morrow; How fares the honest partner of my heart? What, melancholy! not a word to spare me! JAF. (C.). I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damned starving quality, Called honesty, got footing in the world. PIERRE. Why, powerful villainy 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, reward: each man would kill his brother To bind the hands of bold deserving rogues, Like wit, much talked of, not to be defined: PIERRE. So, indeed, men think me; But they're mistaken, Jaffier; I'm a rogue, A fine, gay, bold-faced villain as thou seest me! "Tis true, I pay my debts, when they're contracted; To gain admission to a great man's purse; 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 am a villain. JAF. (R. C.). A villain! PIERRE. Yes, a most notorious villain; Of liberty, which yet they ne'er must taste of. 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! (walks, L.) And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live Where all agree to spoil the public good, And villains fatten with the brave man's labors. PIERRE (returns to L. C.). We've neither safety, unity, nor peace, For the foundation's lost of common good; Justiee is lame, as well as blind, amongst us; The laws (corrupted to their ends that make them,, Now (lays his hand on JAFFIER'S arm) could this glorious cause but find out friends To do it right, oh, Jaffier! then might'st thou I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment. 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. PIERRE (turns, L. and looks over R. shoulder). Too soon 'twill reach thy knowledge JAF. Then from thee Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship, I and ill fortune have been long acquainted. Of all thy ancient, most domestic ornaments; Rich hangings, intermixed and wrought with gold, The scene of all thy joys, was violated By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains, JAF. Now, thank heaven PIERRE. Thank heaven! for what? JAF. That I'm not worth a ducat. PIERRE. Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of Ve nice. Where brothers, friends, and fathers, all are false; Where there's no truth, no trust; where innocence Thy beauteous Belvidera, like a wretch That's doomed to banishment, came weeping forth, As if they catched the sorrows that fell from her; Since now I know the worst that can befall me. The bitterness her tender spirits taste of, I own myself a coward. Bear my weakness, If, throwing thus my arms about thy neck, (Embrace.) Oh, I shall drown thee with my sorrows. First, burn and level Venice to thy ruin. What! starve, like beggars' brats, in frosty weather, Revenge, the attribute of gods; they stamped it, Die!-damn first!-What! be decently interred PIERRE. Well said, out with't-swear a little JAF. Swear! By sea and air; by earth, by heav'n and hell, I will revenge my Belvidera's tears! (Both go to the R.' PIERRE. A dog! JAF. Agreed. (return to C.) JAF. With all my heart! No more-where shall we meet at night? On the Rialto, every night at twelve. There we two'll meet, and talk of precious mischief. JAF. Farewell! PIERRE. At twelve. JAF. At any hour: my plagues Will keep me waking. [Exeunt. GINEVRA. SAMUEL ROGERS. [The story of "The Oaken Chest," has been variously told by many writers; but never so effectively and affectingly as in the following version. The poem admits of much variety of facial expression and vocal modulation. In fact strikes almost every note of human feeling, from the joyous utterances of the gay young maid, to the solemn depth of misery depicted in the closing lines. This piece is alike admirable for either a young lady or young gentleman's recitation.] IF ever you should come to Modena, As though she said, "Beware!"-her vest of gold, An emerald stone in every golden clasp; |