Pierr. Then still thou’rt noble,
And I forgive thee, oh—yet—shall I trust thee?

Jaff. No: I’ve been false already.

Pierr. Dost thou love me?

Jaff. Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings.

Pierr. Curse on this weakness.

[He weeps.

Jaff. Tears! Amazement! Tears!
I never saw thee melted thus before,
And know there’s something labouring in thy bosom
That must have vent: though I’m a villain, tell me.

Pierr. Seest thou that engine?

[Pointing to the Wheel.

Jaff. Why?

Pierr. Is’t fit a soldier, who has liv’d with honour,
Fought nations’ quarrels, and been crown’d with conquest,
Be exposed a common carcase on a wheel?

Jaff. Ha!

Pierr. Speak! is’t fitting?

Jaff. Fitting?

Pierr. Yes, is’t fitting?

Jaff. What’s to be done?

Pierr. I’d have thee undertake
Something that’s noble, to preserve my memory
From the disgrace that’s ready to attaint it.

Offic. The day grows late, sir.

Pierr. I’ll make haste! O Jaffeir,
Though thou’st betray’d me, do me some way justice.

Jaff. No more of that: thy wishes shall be satisfied.
I have a wife, and she shall bleed, my child too
Yield up his little throat, and all t’ appease thee—

[Going away, Pierre holds him.

Pierr. No—this—no more!

[He whispers Jaffeir.

Jaff. Ha! is’t then so?

Pierr. Most certainly.

Jaff. I’ll do’t

Pierr. Remember.