My mind still full of thee, therefore still noble.
Let not thy eyes then shun me, nor thy heart
Detest me utterly: Oh! look upon me,

Look back and see my sad, sincere submission!
How my heart swells, as e'en 'twould burst my bosom,
Fond of it's goal, and lab'ring to be at thee.

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

Pier. Hast thou not wrong'd me? dar'st thou call thyself

That once beloved, 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 asking.

Pier. What's that!

Jaff. To take thy life on such conditions<

The council have propos'd: thou and thy friend

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself

A villain for the privilege to breathe,

And carry up and down this cursed city

A discontented and repining spirit,

Burdensome to itself, a few years longer,

To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel

For some new friend, treach'rous and false 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 just

Pier. Swear by some other pow'rs,

For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.

Jaff. Then by that Hell I merit, I'll not leave thee,. Till to thyself at least thou'rt reconcil'd,

However thy resentment deal with me.

Pier. Not leave me !

Jaff. No; thou shalt not force me from thee;
Use me reproachfully, and like a slave;

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 kiss 'em, though they spurn me,
Till wounded by my suff'rings 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 scand'lous coward, Spiritless, void of honour, one who has sold

Thy everlasting fame for shameless life?

Jaff. All, all, and more, much more: my faults are numberless.

Pier. And wouldst thou have me live on terms like thine ?

Base as thou'rt false

Jaff. No: 'tis to me that's granted:

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

In recompense for faith and trust so broken.

Pier. I scorn it more, because preserv'd by thee:
And as, when first my foolish heart took pity
On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy mis'ries,
Reliev'd thy wants, and rais'd thee from thy state
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plung'd thee,.
To rank thee in my list of noble friends;

All I receiv'd in surety for thy truth

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,

Giv'n with a worthless pledge thou since hast stol'n:
So I restore it back to thee again;

Swearing by all those pow'rs which thou hast violated,
Never from this curs'd hour to hold communion,
Friendship, or int'rest with thee, though our years
Were to exceed those limited the world.

Take it. Farewell, for now I owe thee nothing.
Jaff. Say thou wilt live then.

Pier. For my life, dispose of't

Just as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tir'd with.
Jaff. O Pierre !

Pier. No more.

Jaff. My eyes won't lose the sight of thee,

But languish after thine,, and ache with gazing.

Pier. Leave me Nay, then thus, thus, I throw thee from me:

And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee.

VENICE PRESERVED.

CHAP. IX.

ORLANDO AND ADAM.

Orlan. WHO's there?

Adam. What, my young master! Oh, my gentle master! Oh, my sweet master! oh you memory

Of old sir Rowland! Why, what makes you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bony prizer of the hum'rous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you, not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

Orlan. Why, what's the matter?
Adam. Oh, unhappy youth,

Come not within these doors; within this roof

The enemy of all your graces lives:

Your brother (no; no brother; yet the son,—
Yet not the son; I will not call him son

Of him I was about to call his father)

Hath heard your praises, and this night he means,
To burn the lodging where you us'd to lie,

And you within it: if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him, and his practices:

This is no place; this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.

Orlan. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orlan. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?
Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce

A thievish living on the common road?
This must I do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can;

I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother.

Adam. But do not so ;. I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown :
Take that; and he that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! here is the gold;
All this I give you, let me be your servant :
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly; let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man.
In all your business and necessities.

Orlan O! good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion;
And, having that, do choke their service up.
Ev'n with the having; 'tis not sa with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together,.
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,.
We'll light upon some settled low content.

Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty ;

From seventeen years till now, almost fourscore,
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek,
But at fourscore it is too late a week;
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor.

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAP. X.

SCROOP AND RICHARD.

Scroop. MORE health and happiness betide my Liege, Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him!

K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepar'd:
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold;
Say, is my kingdom lost? Why, 'twas my care;
And what loss is it, to be rid of care?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we!
Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so.
Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend;
They break their faith to God, as well as us,
Cry wo, destruction, ruin, loss, decay;

The worst is death, and death will have his day.
Scroop. Glad am I, that your Highness is so arm'd
To bear the tidings of calamity.

Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,

As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears;

So high above his limits swells the rage

Of Bolingbroke, cov'ring your fearful land

With hard, bright steel, and hearts more hard than steel.
White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy Majesty; boys, with women's voices,
Strive to speak big, and clasp their female joints.
In stiff unwieldy arms, against thy crown;
Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state;
Yea, distaff women manage rusty bills..