Pierr. You say my conscience
Must be mine accuser: I’ve search’d that conscience,
And find no records there of crimos that scare me.

Fath. ’Tis strange you should want faith.

Pierr. You want to lead
My reason blindfold, like a hamper’d lion,
Check’d of its nobler vigour; then, when baited
Down to obedient tameness, make it couch,
And show strange tricks, which you call signs of faith.
So silly souls are gull’d and you get money.
Away, no more: Captain, I would hereafter
This fellow write no lies of my conversion,
Because he has crept upon my troubled hours.

Enter Jaffeir.

Jaff. Hold: eyes, be dry!
Heart, strengthen me to bear
This hideous sight, and humble me, to take
The last forgiveness of a dying friend,
Betray’d by my vile falsehood, to his ruin.
O Pierre!

Pierr. Yet nearer.

Jaff. Crawling on my knees,
And prostrate on the earth, let me approach thee:
How shall I look up to thy injured face,
That always used to smile, with friendship on me?
It darts an air of so much manly virtue,
That I, methinks, look little in thy sight,
And stripes are fitter for me than embraces.

Pierr. Dear to my arms, though thou’st undone my fame,
I cannot forget to love thee; prithee, Jaffeir,
Forgive that filthy blow my passion dealt thee;
I’m now preparing for the land of peace,
And fain would have the charitable wishes
Of all good men, like thee, to bless my journey.

Jaff. Good! I am the vilest creature; worse than e’er
Suffer’d the shameful fate thou’rt going to taste of.
Why was I sent for to be used thus kindly?
Call, call me villain, as I am, describe
The foul complexion of my hateful deeds,
Lead me to the rack, and stretch me in thy stead,
I’ve crimes enough to give it its full load,
And do it credit. Thou wilt but spoil the use on’t,
And honest men hereafter bear its figure
About ’em, as a charm from treacherous friendship.

Offic. The time grows short, your friends are dead already.

Jaff. Dead!

Pierr. Yes, dead, Jaffeir, they’ve all died like men too,
Worthy their character.

Jaff. And what must I do?

Pierr. O Jaffeir!

Jaff. Speak aloud thy burthen’d soul,
And tell thy troubles to thy tortured friend.

Pierr. Couldst thou yet be a friend, a generous friend,
I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.
Heav’n knows I want a friend.

Jaff. And I a kind one,
That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue,
Or think when he’s to die, my thoughts are idle.

Pierr. No! live, I charge thee, Jaffeir.

Jaff. Yes, I’ll live,
But it shall be to see thy fall revenged
At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for.

pierr. Wilt thou?

Jaff. I will, by Heav’n.