Jaff. Then hear me, bounteous Heaven!
Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,
Where everlasting sweets are always springing,
With a continual giving hand: let peace,
Honour, and safety, always hover round her:
Feed her with plenty, let her eyes ne’er see
A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning:
Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest,
Harmless as her own thoughts; and prop her virtue,
To bear the loss of one that too much lov’d,
And comfort her with patience in our parting.

Belv. How, parting! parting!

Jaff. Yes, for ever parting.
I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon heaven,
That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee,
We part this hour for ever.

Belv. Oh, call back
Your cruel blessings, stay with me and curse me!

Jaff. No, ’tis resolv’d.

Belv. Then hear me too, just Heaven!
Pour down your curses on this wretched head
With never-ceasing vengeance: let despair,
Danger or infamy, nay, all surround me:
Starve me with wantings: let my eyes ne’er see
A sight of comfort, nor my heart know peace,
But dash my days with sorrow, night with horrors
Wild as my own thoughts now, and let loose fury
To make me mad enough for what I lose,
If I must lose him; if I must, I will not.
O turn and hear me!

Jaff. Now hold, heart, or never.

Belv. By all the tender days we’ve liv’d together;
By all our charming nights, and joys that crown’d em:
Pity my sad condition, speak, but speak.

Jaff. Oh-h-h!

Belv. By these arms that now cling round thy neck:
By this dear kiss and by ten thousand more,
By these poor streaming eyes—

jaff. Murther! unhold me:

[Draws his dagger.

By the immortal destiny that doom’d me
To this curs’d minute, I’ll not live one longer.
Resolve to let me go or see me fall—

Belv. Hold, sir, be patient.

Jaff. Hark, the dismal bell

[Passing bell tolls.

Tolls out for death; I must attend its call too,
For my poor friend, my dying Pierre expects me:
He sent a message to require I’d see him
Before he died, and take his last forgiveness.
Farewell for ever.

[Going out looks back at her.

Belv. Leave thy dagger with me.
Bequeath me something.—Not one kiss at parting?
O my poor heart, when wilt thou break?

Jaff. Yet stay,
We have a child, as yet a tender infant.
Be a kind mother to him when I am gone:
Breed him in virtue and the paths of honour,
But let him never know his father’s story:
I charge thee guard him from the wrongs my fate
May do his future fortune or his name.
Now—nearer yet—

[Approaching each other.