The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 06

ACT IV.
SCENE I.—Before Gomez's Door.

Enter Lorenzo, Dominick, and two Soldiers at a distance.

Dom. I'll not wag an ace farther: the whole world shall not bribe me to it; for my conscience will digest these gross enormities no longer.

Lor. How, thy conscience not digest them! There is ne'er a friar in Spain can shew a conscience, that comes near it for digestion. It digested pimping, when I sent thee with my letter; and it digested perjury, when thou swor'st thou didst not know me: I am sure it has digested me fifty pounds, of as hard gold as is in all Barbary. Pr'ythee, why shouldest thou discourage fornication, when thou knowest thou lovest a sweet young girl?

Dom. Away, away; I do not love them;—pah; no,—[spits.] I do not love a pretty girl—you are so waggish!—
[Spits again.

Lor. Why thy mouth waters at the very mention of them.

Dom. You take a mighty pleasure in defamation, colonel; but I wonder what you find in running restless up and down, breaking your brains, emptying your purse, and wearing out your body, with hunting after unlawful game.

Lor. Why there's the satisfaction on't.

Dom. This incontinency may proceed to adultery, and adultery to murder, and murder to hanging; and there's the satisfaction on't.

Dom. I'm resolved to forswear it, if you do. Let me advise you better, colonel, than to accuse a church-man to a church-man; in the common cause we are all of a piece; we hang together.

Lor. If you don't, it were no matter if you did.[Aside.

Dom. Nay, if you talk of peaching, I'll peach first, and see whose oath will be believed; I'll trounce you for offering to corrupt my honesty, and bribe my conscience: you shall be summoned by an host of parators; you shall be sentenced in the spiritual court; you shall be excommunicated; you shall be outlawed;—and—
[Here Lorenzo takes a purse, and plays with it, and at last lets the purse fall chinking on the ground, which the Friar eyes.


[In another tone.] I say, a man might do this now, if he were maliciously disposed, and had a mind to bring matters to extremity: but, considering that you are my friend, a person of honour, and a worthy good charitable man, I would rather die a thousand deaths than disoblige you.
[Lorenzo takes up the purse, and pours it into the Friar's sleeve.

Nay, good sir;—nay, dear colonel;—O lord, sir, what are you doing now! I profess this must not be: without this I would have served you to the utter-most; pray command me.—A jealous, foul-mouthed rogue this Gomez is; I saw how he used you, and you marked how he used me too. O he's a bitter man; but we'll join our forces; ah, shall we, colonel? we'll be revenged on him with a witness.

Dom. Let me alone; I fear him not. I am armed with the authority of my clothing: yonder I see him keeping sentry at his door:—have you never seen a citizen, in a cold morning, clapping his sides, and walking forward and backward, a mighty pace before his shop? but I'll gain the pass, in spite of his suspicion; stand you aside, and do but mark how I accost him.

Lor. If he meet with a repulse, we must throw off the fox's skin, and put on the lion's.—Come, gentlemen, you'll stand by me?

Sol. Do not doubt us, colonel. [They retire all three to a corner of the stage; Dominick goes to the door where Gomez stands.

Dom. Good even, Gomez; how does your wife?

Gom. Just as you'd have her; thinking on nothing but her dear colonel, and conspiring cuckoldom against me.

Dom. I dare say, you wrong her; she is employing her thoughts how to cure you of your jealousy.

Gom. Yes, by certainty.

Dom. By your leave, Gomez; I have some spiritual advice to impart to her on that subject.

Gom. You may spare your instructions, if you please, father; she has no farther need of them.

Dom. How, no need of them! do you speak in riddles?

Gom. Since you will have me speak plainer,—she has profited so well already by your counsel, that she can say her lesson without your teaching: Do you understand me now?

Dom. I must not neglect my duty, for all that; once again, Gomez, by your leave.

Dom. Indisposed, say you? O, it is upon those occasions that a confessor is most necessary; I think, it was my good angel that sent me hither so opportunely.

Gom. Ay, whose good angels sent you hither, that you best know, father.

Dom. A word or two of devotion will do her no harm, I'm sure.

Gom. A little sleep will do her more good, I'm sure: You know, she disburthened her conscience but this morning to you.

Dom. But, if she be ill this afternoon, she may have new occasion to confess.

Gom. Indeed, as you order matters with the colonel, she may have occasion of confessing herself every hour.

Dom. Pray, how long has she been sick?

Gom. Lord, you will force a man to speak;—why, ever since your last defeat.

Dom. This can be but some slight indisposition; it will not last, and I may see her.

Gom. How, not last! I say, it will last, and it shall last; she shall be sick these seven or eight days, and perhaps longer, as I see occasion. What? I know the mind of her sickness a little better than you do.

Dom. I find, then, I must bring a doctor.

Dom. Men of my order are not to be treated after this manner.

Gom. I would treat the pope and all his cardinals in the same manner, if they offered to see my wife, without my leave.

Dom. I excommunicate thee from the church, if thou dost not open; there's promulgation coming out.

Gom. And I excommunicate you from my wife, if you go to that: there's promulgation for promulgation, and bull for bull; and so I leave you to recreate yourself with the end of an old song—
And sorrow came to the old friar.[Exit.

Lorenzo comes to him.

Lor. I will not ask you your success; for I overheard part of it, and saw the conclusion. I find we are now put upon our last trump; the fox is earthed, but I shall send my two terriers in after him.

Sold. I warrant you, colonel, we'll unkennel him.

Lor. And make what haste you can, to bring out the lady.—What say you, father? Burglary is but a venial sin among soldiers.

Dom. I shall absolve them, because he is an enemy of the church.—There is a proverb, I confess, which says, that dead men tell no tales; but let your soldiers apply it at their own perils.

Lor. What, take away a man's wife, and kill him too! The wickedness of this old villain startles me, and gives me a twinge for my own sin, though it comes far short of his.—Hark you, soldiers, be sure you use as little violence to him as is possible.

Lor. O miracle, the friar is grown conscientious!

Dom. The old king, you know, is just murdered, and the persons that did it are unknown; let the soldiers seize him for one of the assassinates, and let me alone to accuse him afterwards.

Lor. I cry thee mercy with all my heart, for suspecting a friar of the least good nature; what, would you accuse him wrongfully?

Dom. I must confess, 'tis wrongful, quoad hoc, as to the fact itself; but 'tis rightful, quoad hunc, as to this heretical rogue, whom we must dispatch. He has railed against the church, which is a fouler crime than the murder of a thousand kings. Omne majus continet in se minus: He, that is an enemy to the church, is an enemy unto heaven; and he, that is an enemy to heaven, would have killed the king if he had been in the circumstances of doing it; so it is not wrongful to accuse him.

Lor. I never knew a churchman, if he were personally offended, but he would bring in heaven by hook or crook into his quarrel.—Soldiers, do as you were first ordered.
[Exeunt Soldiers.

Dom. What was't you ordered them? Are you sure it's safe, and not scandalous?

Lor. Somewhat near your own design, but not altogether so mischievous. The people are infinitely discontented, as they have reason; and mutinies there are, or will be, against the queen: now I am content to put him thus far into the plot, that he should be secured as a traitor; but he shall only be prisoner at the soldiers' quarters; and when I am out of reach, he shall be released.

Dom. And what will become of me then? for when he is free, he will infallibly accuse me.

Enter the Soldiers with Gomez struggling on their backs.

Gom. Help, good Christians! help, neighbours! my house is broken open by force, and I am ravished, and like to be assassinated!—What do you mean, villains? will you carry me away, like a pedlar's pack, upon your backs? will you murder a man in plain day-light?

1 Soldier. No; but we'll secure you for a traitor, and for being in a plot against the state.

Gom, Who, I in a plot! O Lord! O Lord! I never durst be in a plot: Why, how can you in conscience suspect a rich citizen of so much wit as to make a plotter? There are none but poor rogues, and those that can't live without it, that are in plots.

2 Soldier. Away with him, away with him.

Gom. O my gold! my wife! my wife! my gold! As I hope to be saved now, I know no more of the plot than they that made it.
[They carry him off, and exeunt.

Lor. Thus far we have sailed with a merry gale, and now we have the Cape of Good Hope in sight; the trade-wind is our own, if we can but double it.
[He looks out.
[Aside.] Ah, my father and Pedro stand at the corner of the street with company; there's no stirring till they are past.

Enter Elvira with a casket.

Elv. Am I come at last into your arms?

Elv. I'm so overjoyed, I can scarce believe I am at liberty; but stand panting, like a bird that has often beaten her wings in vain against her cage, and at last dares hardly venture out, though she sees it open.

Dom. Lose no time, but make haste while the way is free for you; and thereupon I give you my benediction.

Lor. 'Tis not so free as you suppose; for there's an old gentleman of my acquaintance, that blocks up the passage at the corner of the street.

Dom. What have you gotten there under your arm, daughter? somewhat, I hope, that will bear your charges in your pilgrimage.

Lor. The friar has an hawk's eye to gold and jewels.

Elv. Here's that will make you dance without a fiddle, and provide better entertainment for us, than hedges in summer, and barns in winter. Here's the very heart, and soul, and life-blood of Gomez; pawns in abundance, old gold of widows, and new gold of prodigals, and pearls and diamonds of court ladies, till the next bribe helps their husbands to redeem them.

Dom. They are the spoils of the wicked, and the church endows you with them.

Lor. And, faith, we'll drink the church's health out of them. But all this while I stand on thorns. Pr'ythee, dear, look out, and see if the coast be free for our escape; for I dare not peep, for fear of being known.
[Elvira goes to look, and Gomez comes running in upon her: She shrieks out.

Gom. Thanks to my stars, I have recovered my own territories.—What do I see? I'm ruined! I'm undone! I'm betrayed!

Gom. O, colonel are you there?—and you, friar? nay, then I find how the world goes.

Lor. Cheer up, man, thou art out of jeopardy; I heard thee crying out just now, and came running in full speed, with the wings of an eagle, and the feet of a tiger, to thy rescue.

Gom. Ay, you are always at hand to do me a courtesy, with your eagle's feet, and your tiger's wings.—And what were you here for, friar?

Dom. To interpose my spiritual authority in your behalf.

Gom. And why did you shriek out, gentlewoman?

Elv. 'Twas for joy at your return.

Gom. And that casket under your arm, for what end and purpose?

Elv. Only to preserve it from the thieves.

Gom. And you came running out of doors—

Elv. Only to meet you, sweet husband.

Gom. A fine evidence summed up among you; thank you heartily, you are all my friends. The colonel was walking by accidentally, and hearing my voice, came in to save me; the friar, who was hobbling the same way too, accidentally again, and not knowing of the colonel, I warrant you, he comes in to pray for me; and my faithful wife runs out of doors to meet me, with all my jewels under her arm, and shrieks out for joy at my return. But if my father-in-law had not met your soldiers, colonel, and delivered me in the nick, I should neither have found a friend nor a friar here, and might have shrieked out for joy myself, for the loss of my jewels and my wife.

Dom. Art thou an infidel? Wilt thou not believe us?

Lor. Nay, if you will complain, you shall for something.[Beats him.

Gom. Murder, murder! I give up the ghost! I am destroyed! help, murder, murder!

Dom. Away, colonel; let us fly for our lives: the neighbours are coming out with forks, and fire-shovels, and spits, and other domestic weapons; the militia of a whole alley is raised against us.

Lor. This is but the interest of my debt, master usurer; the principal shall be paid you at our next meeting.

Dom. Ah, if your soldiers had but dispatched him, his tongue had been laid asleep, colonel; but this comes of not following good counsel; ah—
[Exeunt Lor. and Friar severally.

SCENE II.—The Court.

Enter Raymond, Alphonso, and Pedro.

Raym. Are these, are these, ye powers, the promised joys,
With which I flattered my long, tedious absence,
To find, at my return, my master murdered?
O, that I could but weep, to vent my passion!
But this dry sorrow burns up all my tears.

Alph. Mourn inward, brother; 'tis observed at court,
Who weeps, and who wears black; and your return
Will fix all eyes on every act of yours,
To see how you resent King Sancho's death.

Raym. What generous man can live with that constraint
Upon his soul, to bear, much less to flatter,
A court like this! Can I sooth tyranny?
Seem pleased to see my royal master murdered,
His crown usurped, a distaff in the throne,
A council made of such as dare not speak,
And could not, if they durst; whence honest men
Banish themselves, for shame of being there:
A government, that, knowing not true wisdom,
Is scorned abroad, and lives on tricks at home?

Raym. Well then, I will dissemble, for an end
So great, so pious, as a just revenge:
You'll join with me?

Alph. No honest man but must.

Ped. What title has this queen, but lawless force?
And force must pull her down.

Alph. Truth is, I pity Leonora's case;
Forced, for her safety, to commit a crime,
Which most her soul abhors.

Raym. All she has done, or e'er can do, of good,
This one black deed has damned.

Ped, You'll hardly gain your son to our design.

Raym. Your reason for't?

Ped. I want time to unriddle it:
Put on your t'other face, the queen approaches.

Enter Leonora, Bertran, and Attendants.

Raym. And that accursed Bertran
Stalks close behind her, like a witch's fiend,
Pressing to be employed; stand, and observe them.

Leo. to Bert. Buried in private, and so suddenly!
It crosses my design, which was to allow
The rites of funeral fitting his degree,
With all the pomp of mourning.

Bert. It was not safe:
Objects of pity, when the cause is new,
Would work too fiercely on the giddy crowd:
Had Cæsar's body never been exposed,
Brutus had gained his cause.

Leo. Then, was he loved?

Bert. O, never man so much, for saint-like goodness.

Ped. Had bad men feared him, but as good men loved him,
He had not yet been sainted.[Aside.

Leo. I wonder how the people bear his death.

Ped. How, idle murmurs! Let me plainly speak:
The doors are all shut up; the wealthier sort,
With arms across, and hats upon their eyes,
Walk to and fro before their silent shops;
Whole droves of lenders crowd the bankers' doors,
To call in money; those, who have none, mark
Where money goes; for when they rise, 'tis plunder:
The rabble gather round the man of news,
And listen with their mouths;
Some tell, some hear, some judge of news, some make it;
And he, who lies most loud, is most believed.

Leo. This may be dangerous.

Raym. Pray heaven it may![Aside.

Bert. If one of you must fall,
Self-preservation is the first of laws;
And if, when subjects are oppressed by kings,
They justify rebellion by that law,
As well may monarchs turn the edge of right
To cut for them, when self-defence requires it.

Leo. You place such arbitrary power in kings,
That I much fear, if I should make you one,
You'll make yourself a tyrant; let these know
By what authority you did this act.

Bert. You much surprise me, to demand that question:
But, since truth must be told, 'twas by your own.

Leo. Produce it; or, by heaven, your head shall answer
The forfeit of your tongue.

Raym. Brave mischief towards.[Aside.

Bert. You bade me.

Leo. When, and where?

Leo. What, if I said,
I was a woman, ignorant and weak,
Were you to take the advantage of my sex,
And play the devil to tempt me? You contrived,
You urged, you drove me headlong to your toils;
And if, much tired, and frighted more, I paused,
Were you to make my doubts your own commission?

Bert. This 'tis, to serve a prince too faithfully;
Who, free from laws himself, will have that done,
Which, not performed, brings us to sure disgrace;
And, if performed, to ruin.

Leo. This 'tis, to counsel things that are unjust;
First, to debauch a king to break his laws,
Which are his safety, and then seek protection
From him you have endangered; but, just heaven,
When sins are judged, will damn the tempting devil,
More deep than those he tempted.

Bert. If princes not protect their ministers,
What man will dare to serve them?

Leo. None will dare
To serve them ill, when they are left to laws;
But, when a counsellor, to save himself,
Would lay miscarriages upon his prince,
Exposing him to public rage and hate;
O, 'tis an act as infamously base,
As, should a common soldier sculk behind,
And thrust his general in the front of war:
It shews, he only served himself before,
And had no sense of honour, country, king,
But centered on himself, and used his master,
As guardians do their wards, with shews of care,
But with intent to sell the public safety,
And pocket up his prince.

Bert. I see for whom I must be sacrificed;
And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,
I might have found it sooner.

Leo. From my sight!
The prince, who bears an insolence like this,
Is such an image of the powers above,
As is the statue of the thundering god,
Whose bolts the boys may play with.

Bert. Unrevenged
I will not fall, nor single.[Exit.

Leo. Welcome, welcome! [To RAYM. who kisses her hand.
I saw you not before: One honest lord
Is hid with ease among a crowd of courtiers.
How can I be too grateful to the father
Of such a son as Torrismond?

Raym. His actions were but duty.

Leo. Yet, my lord,
All have not paid that debt, like noble Torrismond.
You hear, how Bertran brands me with a crime,
Of which, your son can witness, I am free.
I sent to stop the murder, but too late;
For crimes are swift, but penitence is slow:
The bloody Bertran, diligent in ill,
Flew to prevent the soft returns of pity.

Raym. O cursed haste, of making sure of sin!—
Can you forgive the traitor?

Leo. Never, never:
'Tis written here in characters so deep,
That seven years hence, ('till then should I not meet him,)
And in the temple then, I'll drag him thence,
Even from the holy altar to the block.

Leo. O, there's none;
Except an host from heaven can make such haste
To save my crown, as he will do to seize it.
You saw, he came surrounded with his friends,
And knew, besides, our army was removed
To quarters too remote for sudden use.

Raym. Yet you may give commission
To some bold man, whose loyalty you trust,
And let him raise the train-bands of the city.

Leo. Gross feeders, lion talkers, lamb-like fighters.

Raym. You do not know the virtues of your city,
What pushing force they have; some popular chief,
More noisy than the rest, but cries halloo,
And, in a trice, the bellowing herd come out;
The gates are barred, the ways are barricadoed,
And One and all's the word; true cocks o'the game,
That never ask, for what, or whom, they fight;
But turn them out, and shew them but a foe,
Cry—Liberty! and that's a cause of quarrel.

Leo. There may be danger in that boisterous rout:
Who knows, when fires are kindled for my foes,
But some new blast of wind may turn those flames
Against my palace-walls?

Raym. But still their chief
Must be some one, whose loyalty you trust.

Leo. And who more proper for that trust than you,
Whose interests, though unknown to you, are mine?
Alphonso, Pedro, haste to raise the rabble;
He shall appear to head them.

Alph. Our lawful prince!

Raym. Fear not; I can produce him.

Ped. [To Alph.]
Now we want your son Lorenzo: what a mighty faction
Would he make for us of the city-wives,
With,—Oh, dear husband, my sweet honey husband,
Wont you be for the colonel? if you love me,
Be for the colonel; Oh, he's the finest man! [Exeunt Alph. and Ped.

Raym. So, now we have a plot behind the plot.
She thinks, she's in the depth of my design,
And that 'tis all for her; but time shall show,
She only lives to help me ruin others,
And last, to fall herself.[Aside.

Leo. Now, to you, Raymond: can you guess no reason
Why I repose such confidence in you?
You needs must think,
There's some more powerful cause than loyalty:
Will you not speak, to save a lady's blush?
Need I inform you, 'tis for Torrismond,
That all this grace is shown?

Raym. By all the powers, worse, worse than what I feared! [Aside.

Leo. And yet, what need I blush at such a choice?
I love a man whom I am proud to love,
And am well pleased my inclination gives
What gratitude would force. O pardon me;
I ne'er was covetous of wealth before;
Yet think so vast a treasure as your son,
Too great for any private man's possession;
And him too rich a jewel, to be set
In vulgar metal, or for vulgar use.

Raym. Arm me with patience, heaven!

Raym. Bate the last, and 'tis what I would say:
Can I, can any loyal subject, see
With patience, such a stoop from sovereignty,
An ocean poured upon a narrow brook?
My zeal for you must lay the father by,
And plead my country's cause against my son.
What though his heart be great, his actions gallant,
He wants a crown to poise against a crown,
Birth to match birth, and power to balance power.

Leo. All these I have, and these I can bestow;
But he brings worth and virtue to my bed;
And virtue is the wealth which tyrants want:
I stand in need of one, whose glories may
Redeem my crimes, ally me to his fame,
Dispel the factions of my foes on earth,
Disarm the justice of the powers above.

Raym. The people never will endure this choice.

Raym. [Solus.]
Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be,
By heaven, it must not be! or, if it be,
Law, justice, honour, bid farewell to earth,
For heaven leaves all to tyrants.

Enter Torrismond, who kneels to him.

Tor. O, very welcome, sir!
But doubly now! You come in such a time,
As if propitious fortune took a care,
To swell my tide of joys to their full height,
And leave me nothing farther to desire.

Raym. I hope, I come in time, if not to make,
At least to save your fortune and your honour.
Take heed you steer your vessel right, my son;
This calm of heaven, this mermaid's melody,
Into an unseen whirlpool draws you fast,
And, in a moment, sinks you.

Tor. Fortune cannot,
And fate can scarce; I've made the port already,
And laugh securely at the lazy storm,
That wanted wings to reach me in the deep.
Your pardon, sir; my duty calls me hence;
I go to find my queen, my earthly goddess,
To whom I owe my hopes, my life, my love.

Raym. You owe her more, perhaps, than you imagine;
Stay, I command you stay, and hear me first.
This hour's the very crisis of your fate,
Your good or ill, your infamy or fame,
And all the colour of your life, depends
On this important now.

Raym. Nay, if possessing her can make you happy,
'Tis granted, nothing hinders your design.

Tor. If she can make me blest? she only can;
Empire, and wealth, and all she brings beside,
Are but the train and trappings of her love:
The sweetest, kindest, truest of her sex,
In whose possession years roll round on years,
And joys, in circles, meet new joys again;
Kisses, embraces, languishing, and death,
Still from each other to each other move,
To crown the various seasons of our love;
And doubt you if such love can make me happy?

Raym. Yes; for, I think, you love your honour more.

Tor. And what can shock my honour in a queen?

Raym. A tyrant, an usurper?

Tor. Grant she be;
When from the conqueror we hold our lives,
We yield ourselves his subjects from that hour;
For mutual benefits make mutual ties.

Raym. Why, can you think I owe a thief my life,
Because he took it not by lawless force?
What, if he did not all the ill he could?
Am I obliged by that to assist his rapines,
And to maintain his murders?

Tor. Not to maintain, but bear them unrevenged.
Kings' titles commonly begin by force,
Which time wears off, and mellows into right;
So power, which, in one age, is tyranny,
Is ripened, in the next, to true succession:
She's in possession.

Tor. I see no crime in her whom I adore,
Or, if I do, her beauty makes it none:
Look on me as a man abandoned o'er
To an eternal lethargy of love;
To pull, and pinch, and wound me, cannot cure,
And but disturb the quiet of my death.

Raym. O virtue, virtue! what art thou become,
That man should leave thee for that toy, a woman,
Made from the dross and refuse of a man!
Heaven took him, sleeping, when he made her too;
Had man been waking, he had ne'er consented.
Now, son, suppose
Some brave conspiracy were ready formed,
To punish tyrants, and redeem the land,
Could you so far belie your country's hope,
As not to head the party?

Tor. How could my hand rebel against my heart?

Raym. How could your heart rebel against your reason?

Raym. Mark who defraud their offspring, you or I?
For know, there yet survives the lawful heir
Of Sancho's blood, whom when I shall produce,
I rest assured to see you pale with fear,
And trembling at his name.

Tor. He must be more than man, who makes me tremble.
I dare him to the field, with all the odds
Of justice on his side, against my tyrant:
Produce your lawful prince, and you shall see
How brave a rebel love has made your son.

Raym. Read that; 'tis with the royal signet signed,
And given me, by the king, when time should serve,
To be perused by you.

Tor. [Reads.] I, the king.
My youngest and alone surviving son,
Reported dead, to escape rebellious rage,
Till happier times shall call his courage forth,
To break my fetters, or revenge my fate,
I will that Raymond educate as his,
And call him Torrismond—
If I am he, that son, that Torrismond,
The world contains not so forlorn a wretch!
Let never man believe he can be happy!
For, when I thought my fortune most secure,
One fatal moment tears me from my joys;
And when two hearts were joined by mutual love,
The sword of justice cuts upon the knot,
And severs them for ever.

Raym. True, it must.

Raym. Your lot's too glorious, and the proof's too plain.
Now, in the name of honour, sir, I beg you,—
Since I must use authority no more,—
On these old knees, I beg you, ere I die,
That I may see your father's death revenged.

Tor. Why, 'tis the only business of my life;
My order's issued to recall the army,
And Bertran's death's resolved.

Raym. And not the queen's? O, she's the chief offender!
Shall justice turn her edge within your hand?
No, if she 'scape, you are yourself the tyrant,
And murderer of your father.

Tor. Cruel fates!
To what have you reserved me?

Raym. Why that sigh?

Tor. Since you must know,—but break, O break, my heart,
Before I tell my fatal story out!—
The usurper of my throne, my house's ruin!
The murderer of my father,—is my wife!

Raym. O horror, horror!—After this alliance,
Let tigers match with hinds, and wolves with sheep,
And every creature couple with his foe.
How vainly man designs, when heaven opposes!
I bred you up to arms, raised you to power,
Permitted you to fight for this usurper,
Indeed to save a crown, not hers, but yours,
All to make sure the vengeance of this day,
Which even this day has ruined. One more question
Let me but ask, and I have done for ever;—
Do you yet love the cause of all your woes,
Or is she grown, as sure she ought to be,
More odious to your sight than toads and adders?

Raym. No more!—Farewell, my much lamented king!—
I dare not trust him with himself so far,
To own him to the people as their king,
Before their rage has finished my designs
On Bertran and the queen; but in despite,
Even of himself, I'll save him.[Aside and exit.

Tor. 'Tis but a moment since I have been king,
And weary on't already; I'm a lover,
And loved, possess,—yet all these make me wretched;
And heaven has given me blessings for a curse.
With what a load of vengeance am I prest,
Yet, never, never, can I hope for rest;
For when my heavy burden I remove,
The weight falls down, and crushes her I love.[Exit.

ACT V.
SCENE I.—A Bed-Chamber.

Enter Torrismond.

Tor. Love, justice, nature, pity, and revenge,
Have kindled up a wildfire in my breast,
And I am all a civil war within!

Enter Queen and Teresa, at a distance.

Leo. He's gone, and I am lost; did'st thou not see
His sullen eyes? how gloomily they glanced?
He looked not like the Torrismond I loved.

Ter. Can you not guess from whence this change proceeds?

Leo. No: there's the grief, Teresa: Oh, Teresa!
Fain would I tell thee what I feel within,
But shame and modesty have tied my tongue!
Yet, I will tell, that thou may'st weep with me.—
How dear, how sweet his first embraces were!
With what a zeal he joined his lips to mine!
And sucked my breath at every word I spoke,
As if he drew his inspiration hence:
While both our souls came upward to our mouths,
As neighbouring monarchs at their borders meet;
I thought—Oh, no; 'tis false! I could not think;
'Twas neither life nor death, but both in one.

Ter. Then, sure his transports were not less than yours.

Leo. More, more! for, by the high-hung tapers' light,
I could discern his cheeks were glowing red,
His very eyeballs trembled with his love,
And sparkled through their casements humid fires;
He sighed, and kissed; breathed short, and would have spoke,
But was too fierce to throw away the time;
All he could say was—love and Leonora.

Ter. How then can you suspect him lost so soon?

Ter. What, all the night?

Leo. Even all the livelong night.
At last, (for, blushing, I must tell thee all,)
I pressed his hand, and laid me by his side;
He pulled it back, as if he touched a serpent.
With that I burst into a flood of tears,
And asked him how I had offended him?
He answered nothing, but with sighs and groans;
So, restless, past the night; and, at the dawn,
Leapt from the bed, and vanished.

Ter. Sighs and groans,
Paleness and trembling, all are signs of love;
He only fears to make you share his sorrows.

Leo. I wish 'twere so; but love still doubts the worst;
My heavy heart, the prophetess of woes,
Forebodes some ill at hand: to sooth my sadness,
Sing me the song, which poor Olympia made,
When false Bireno left her.