Jaff. But curses stick not: could I kill with cursing,
By Heaven! I know not thirty heads in Venice
Should not be blasted; Senators should rot
Like dogs on dunghills; but their wives and daughters
Die of their own diseases. Oh, for a curse
To kill with!

Pierr. Daggers, daggers are much better!

Jaff. Ha!

Pierr. Daggers.

Jaff. But where are they?

Pierr. Oh, a thousand
May be disposed in honest hands in Venice.

Jaff. Thou talk’st in clouds.

Pierr. But yet a heart half wronged
As thine has been, would find the meaning, Jaffeir.

Jaff. A thousand daggers, all in honest hands;
And have not I a friend will stick one here?

Pierr. Yes, if I thought thou wert not to be cherished
To a nobler purpose, I’d be that friend.
But thou hast better friends, friends whom thy wrongs
Have made thy friends; friends worthy to be called so;
I’ll trust thee with a secret: there are spirits
This hour at work. But as thou art a man,
Whom I have picked and chosen from the world,
Swear, that thou wilt be true to what I utter,
And when I have told thee, that which only gods
And men like gods are privy to, then swear,
No chance or change shall wrest it from my bosom.

Jaff. When thou wouldst bind me, is there need of oaths?
(Greensickness girls lose maidenheads with such counters)
For thou’rt so near my heart, that thou mayst see
Its bottom, sound its strength, and firmness to thee:
Is coward, fool, or villain, in my face?
If I seem none of these, I dare believe
Thou wouldst not use me in a little cause,
For I am fit for honour’s toughest task;
Nor ever yet found fooling was my province;
And for a villainous inglorious enterprise,
I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine
Before thee, set it to what point thou wilt.

Pierr. Nay, it’s cause thou wilt be fond of, Jaffeir.
For it is founded on the noblest basis,
Our liberties, our natural inheritance;
There’s no religion, no hypocrisy in’t;
We’ll do the business, and ne’er fast and pray for’t:
Openly act a deed, the world shall gaze
With wonder at, and envy when it’s done.

Jaff. For liberty!

Pierr. For liberty, my friend!
Thou shalt be freed from base Priuli’s tyranny,
And thy sequestered fortunes healed again.
I shall be freed from opprobrious wrongs,
That press me now, and bend my spirit downward:
All Venice free, and every growing merit
Succeed to its just right: fools shall be pulled
From Wisdom’s seat; those baleful unclean birds,
Those lazy owls, who (perched near Fortune’s top)
Sit only watchful with their heavy wings
To cuff down new-fledged virtues, that would rise
To nobler heights, and make the grove harmonious.

Jaff. What can I do?

Pierr. Canst thou not kill a Senator?

Jaff. Were there one wise or honest, I could kill him
For herding with that nest of fools and knaves;
By all my wrongs, thou talk’st as if revenge
Were to be had, and the brave story warms me.

Pierr. Swear, then!