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I have no weight, no heavinefs on my foul,"
But that I've loft my dearest friend his life.

SOUTH. And I proteft, by the fame powers divine,
And to the world, 'tis all my happiness,
The greatest bliss my mind yet e'er enjoy'd,
Since we must die, my Lord, to die together.

OFFICER. The Queen, my Lord Southampton, has been

To grant particular mercy to your person;
And has by us fent you a reprieve from death,
With pardon of your treafons, and commands
You to depart immediately from hence.

SOUTH. O my unguarded foul! Sure never was
A man with mercy wounded fo before!

Ess. Then I am loose to fteer my wand'ring voyage;
Like a bad vessel that has long been croft,
And bound by adverse winds, at laft gets liberty,
And joyfully makes all the fail she can,
To reach its wifh'd-for port-Angels protect
The Queen, for her my chiefeft prayers shall be,
That as in time fhe has fpar'd my noble friend,
And owns his crimes worth mercy, may fhe ne'er
Think fo of me too late when I am dead-

Again, Southampton, let me hold thee fast,
For 'tis my laft embrace.

SOUTH. O be lefs kind, my friend, or move lefs pity,

Or I fhall fink beneath the weight of sadness !


weep that I am doom'd to live without you,

And fhould have fmil'd to fhare the death of Effex.

Ess. O fpare this tenderness for one that needs it,
For her that I commit to thee, 'tis all that I
Can claim of my Southampton-O my wife!

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Methinks that very name should stop thy pity,
And make thee covetous of all as loft
That is not meant to her-be a kind friend
To her, as we have been to one another;
Name not the dying Effex to thy Queen,
Left it should coft a tear, nor e'er offend her.

SOUTH. O ftay, my Lord, let me have one word more;

One laft farewel, before the greedy axe

Shall part my friend, my only friend from me,
And Effex from himfelf-I know not what

Are call'd the pangs of death, but fure I am
I feel an agony that's worse than death-

Ess. Why, that's well faid-Farewel to thee-
Then let us part, just like two travellers,

Take diftant paths, only this difference is,
Thine is the longeft, mine the fhorteft way-
Now let me go-if there's a throne in heaven
For the most brave of men and beft of friends,

I will befpeak it for Southampton.

SOUTH. And I, while I have life, will hoard thy memory:

When I am dead, we then fhall meet again.

Ess. Till then, Farewel.

SOUTH. Till then, Farewel.



C. HA P.


JAFF. BY Heav'n, you ftir not,

I must be heard, I must have leave to speak: Thou haft difgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow:



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Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?

But ufe me as thou wilt, thou can'ft not wrong me,

For I am fallen beneath the bafeft injuries:

Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,

With pity and with charity behold me;
Shut not thy heart against a friend's repentance;
But, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Liften with mildness to my fupplications.

PIER. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat, That would't incroach upon my credulous ears,

And cant it thus vilely? hence! I know thee not.

JAFF. Not know me, Pierre!

PIER. No, know thee not; what art thou?

JAFF. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd, valu'd friend! Tho' now deferv'dly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly.

PIER. Thou Jaffier! thou my once lov'd, valu'd friend!
By heav'ns thou ly'ft; the man so call'd my friend,
Was generous, honest, faithful, juft, and valiant,
Noble in mind, and in his perfon lovely,

Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart:
But thou a wretched, base, falsfe, worthlefs coward,
Poor even in foul, and loathfome in thy afpect:
All eyes muft fhun thee, and all hearts deteft thee.
Prithee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,
Like fomething baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.


JAFF. I have not wrong'd thee, by these tears I have not, But ftill am honeft, true, and hope too, valiant; My mind fill full of thee, therefore ftill noble. Let not thy eyes then fhun me, nor thy heart Deteft me utterly: Oh! look upon me, Look back and fee my fad, fincere submission! How my heart fwells, as e'en 'twould burft my bofom;

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Fond of its goal, and labouring to be at thee;
What shall I do? what fay to make thee hear me?

PIER. Haft thou not wrong'd me? dar'ft thou call thyself That once lov'd valu'd friend of mine,

And swear thou haft 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 afking.

PIER. What's that?

JAFF. To take thy life on fuch conditions.

The council have propos'd: thou and thy friend

May yet live long, and to be better treated.

PIER. Life! afk my life! confefs! record myfelf

A villain for the privilege to breathe,

And carry up and down this curfed city
A difcontented and repining fpirit,
Burden fome to itfelf, a few years longer,

To lofe it, may be at laft, in a lewd quarrel

For fome new friend, treacherous and faise 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 juft--

PIER. Swear by fome other powers,

For thou haft broken that facred oath too lately.

JAFF. Then by that hell I merit, I'll not leave thee,

Till to thyfelf at least thou'rt reconcil'd,

However thy refentment deal with me.

PIER. Not leave me !

JAFF. No; thou fhalt not force me from thee; Ufe 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 moft friendly cruelty:

Lie at thy feet and kifs 'em, tho' they fpurn me,
Till wounded by my fufferings 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 moft fcandalous coward, Spiritlefs, void of honour, one who has fold Thy everlafting fame for fhameless life?

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

PIER. And would't thou have me live on terms like thine; Bafe as thou'rt falfe

JAFF. No; 'tis to me that's granted:
The fafety of thy life was all I aim'd at,
In recompence for faith and truft fo broken.

PIER. I fcorn it more, because preferv'd by thee;
And as when firft my foolish heart took pity
On thy misfortunes, fought thee in thy miferies,
Reliev'd thy wants, and rais'd thee from thy ftate
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plung'd thee,
To rank thee in my lift of noble friends;

All I receiv'd, in furety for thy truth,

Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,
Given with a worthless pledge thou fince haft ftol❜n:
So I restore it back to thee again;

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