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Fond of its goal, and labouring to be at thee;

What shall I do? what fay to make thee hear me ?

PIER. Haft thou not wrong'd me? dar'st thou call thyself That once lov'd valu'd friend of mine,

And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence these chains ? Whence the vile death, which I may meet this moment! Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one? JAFF. All's true; yet grant one thing; and I've done afking.

PIER. What's that?

JAFF. To take thy life on fuch conditions
The council have propos'd: thou and thy friend
May yet live long, and to be better treated.
PIER. Life! afk my life! confefs! record myself
A villain for the privilege to breathe,
And carry up and down this curfed city
A difcontented and repining fpirit,
Burdenfome to itself, a few years longer,
To lofe it, may be at laft, in a lewd quarrel

For fome new friend, treacherous and falfe as thou art!
No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,

And cannot part on better terms than now,

When only men like thee are fit to live in't.
JAFF. By all that's juft-

PIER. Swear by fome other powers,

For thou haft broken that facred oath too lately. JAFF. Then by that hell I merit, I'll not leave thee, 'Till to thy felf at least thou'rt reconcil'd,

However thy refentment deal with me.

PIER. Not leave me !

JAFF. No; thou shalt not force me from thee;

Ufe me reproachfully, and like a flave ;

Tread

Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
On my poor head; I'll bear it all with patience:
I'll weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty:
Lie at thy feet and kifs 'em, tho' they fpurn me,
Till wounded by my fuffering's thou relent,
And raise me to thy arms with dear forgiveness.
PIER. Art thou not-

JAFF. What?

PIER. A traitor?

JAFF. Yes.

PIER. A villain?

JAFF. Granted.

PIER. A coward, a most scandalous coward, Spiritlefs, void of honour, one who has fold Thy everlasting fame for fhameless life?

JAFF. All, all, and more, much more: my faults are numberlefs.

PIER. And would it thou have me live on terms like thine; Bafe as thou'rt falfe

JAFF. No; 'tis to me that's granted:

The fafety of thy life was all I aim'd at,

In recompence

for faith and truft fo broken.

PIER. I fcorn it more, because preserv'd by thee::
And as when firft my foolish heart took pity

On thy misfortunes, fought thee in thy miferies,
Reliev'd thy wants, and rais'd thee from thy ftate
Of wretchednefs, in which thy fate had plung'd thee,
To rank thee in my lift of noble friends;

All I receiv'd, in furety for thy truth,

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,
Given with a worthless pledge thou fince haft ftol'n:
So I reftore it back to thee again;

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Swearing by all thofe powers which thou haft violated,
Never from this curs'd hour to hoid communion,
Friendship, or intereft with thee, tho' our years
Were to exceed thofe limited the world.

Take it Farewel, for now I owe thee nothing..
JAFF. Say thou wilt live then.

PIER. For my life, difpofe of it

Jut as thou wilt, becaufe 'tis what I'm tir'd with..
JAFP. Oh Pierre!

PIER. No more.

JAFF. My eyes won't lofe the fight of thee, But languifh after thine, and ache with gazing. PIER. Leave me--Nay, then thus, thus I throw thee

from me;

And curfes, great as is thy falfehood, catch thee.

CHAP.

VENICE PRESERVED..

XI..

EDWARD AND. WARWICK..

EDW. L

ET me have no intruders; above all,.
Keep Warwick from my fight-

Enter WARWICK.

WAR. Behold him here;.

No welcome gueft, it feems, unless I ask
My lord of Suffolk's leave-there was a time
When Warwick wanted not his aid to gain.
Admiffion here.

Eow. There was a time, perhaps,

When Warwick more defir'd, and more--deferv'd it.
WAR. Never; I've been a foolish faithful slave;

All my beft years, the morning of my life,

Hath

Hath been devoted to your service: what
Are now the fruits? Difgrace and infamy;
My fpotlefs name, which never yet the breath
Of calumny had tainted, made the mock
For foreign fools to carp at: but 'tis fit.

Who truft in princes, should be thus rewarded.

EDW. I thought, my lord, I had full well repay'ch Your fervices with honours, wealth, and pow'r Unlimited thy all-directing hand

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Guided in fecret ev'ry latent wheel

Of government, and mov'd the whole machine ::
Warwick was all in all, and pow'rlefs Edward
Stood like a cypher in the great account.

WAR. Who gave that cypher worth, and feated thee
On England's throne? Thy undiftinguish'd name
Had rotted in the duft from whence it sprang,
And moulder'd in oblivion, had not Warwick
Dug from its fordid mine the useless ore,
And ftamp'd it with a diadem. Thou know'ft
This wretched country, doom'd, perhaps, like Rome,
To fall by its own felf-destroying hand,

Toft for fo many years in the rough sea
Of civil difcord, but for me had perish'd..

In that diftrefsful hour I feiz'd the helm,

Bade the rough waves subside in peace, and fleer'd.
Your fhatter'd veffel fafe into the harbour.

You may defpife, perhaps, that useless aid

Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth,
He who forgets a friend, deserves a foe.

EDW. Know too, reproach for benefits receiv'd
Pays ev'ry debt, and cancels obligation.
WAR. Why, that indeed is frugal honefty,

A thrifty

A thrifty faxing knowledge: when the debt
Grows burdenfome, and cannot be discharg'd,

A fponge will wipe out all, and coft you nothing.

EDW. When you have counted o'er the numerous train Of mighty gifts your bounty lavifh'd on me,

You may remember next the injuries

Which I have done you; let me know them all,
And I will make you ample fatisfaction.

WAR. Thou canst not: thou hast robb’d me of a jewel It is not in thy power to reftore:

I was the first, shall future annals fay,

That broke the facred bond of public trust
And mutual confidence; ambaffadors,
In after times, mere inftruments, perhaps,
Cf venal ftate finen, fhall recal my name
To witnefs, that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt, to fanctify their own.
Amidft the herd of mercenary flaves

That haunt your court, cou'd none be found but Warwick,
To be the fhameless herald of a lie ?

Epw. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me? If I have broke my faith, and stain’d the name Of England, thank thy own pernicious counfels That urg'd me to it, and extorted from me A cold confent to what my heart abhorr'd. WAR. I have been abus'd, infulted, and betray'd'; My injur'd honour cries aloud for vengeance, Her wounds will never clofe!

Enw. Thefe gufts of paffion,

Will but inflame them; if I have been right
Inform'd, my lord, befides thefe dang'rous fears
Of bleeding honour, you have other wounds

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