But kings miftake its timing, and are mild

When manly courage bids them be severe.'
Better be cruel once, than anxious ever.
Remove this threat'ning danger from your crown,
And then fecurely take the man you love.

[I love!

Qu. [Walking afide.] Ha! let me think of that- the man 'Tis true, this murder is the only means That can fecure my throne to Torrifmond; Nay, more, this execution done by Bertran, Makes him the object of the people's hate.

Bert. [Afide.] The more he thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her.

Qu. [Afide.] How eloquent is mifchief to perfuade! Few are fo wicked as to take delight

In crimes unprofitable; nor do I.

If then I break divine and human laws,
No bribe but love could gain so bad a cause.
Bert. You anfwer nothing.

Qu. 'Tis of deep concernment,
And I a woman ignorant and weak.

I leave it all to you think, what you do,
You do for him I love.

Bert. [Afide.] For him fhe loves!

She nam❜d not me; that may be Torrismond,
Whom she has thrice in private feen this day.
Then I am finely caught in my own fnare-
I'll think again- -Madam, it fhall be done;

And mine be all the blame.

[Exit.

Qu. Oh, that it were! I would not do this crime; And yet, like Heaven, permit it to be done. • The priesthood grofsly cheat us with free-will; • Will to do what, but what Heaven first decreed ? • Our actions then are neither good nor ill, • Since from eternal caufes they proceed: Our paffions, fear and anger, love and hate, • Mere fenfelefs engines that are mov'd by fare; Like fhips on ftormy feas without a guide, Toft by the winds, are driven by the tide.' Enter Torrifmond,

Tor. Am I not rudely bold, and press too often

Into your prefence, Madam? If I am:

Qu. No more, left I should chide you for your stay.

Where

Where have you been, and how could you fuppofe
'That I could live thefe two long hours without you?
Tor. Oh, words to charm an angel from his orb!
Welcome as kindly fhowers to long-parch'd earth!
But I have been in such a dismal place,

Where joy ne'er enters, which the fun ne'er cheers,
Bound in with darknefs, overfpread with damps;
Where I have feen (if I could fay I faw)
The good old king, majestic in his bonds,
And midft his griefs moft venerably great;
By a dim winking lamp, which feebly broke
The gloomy vapours, he lay ftretch'd along
Upon th' unwholefome earth, his eyes fix'd upward;

And ever and anon a filent tear

Stole down and trickled from his hoary beard.

Qu. Oh, Heaven! what have I done? My gentle love,
Here end thy fad difcourfe; and, for my fake,
Caft off thefe fearful melancholy thoughts.

Tor. My heart is wither'd at that piteous fight,
As early bloffoms are with eastern blasts.
He fent for me, and while I rais'd my head,
He threw his aged arms about my neck;
And, feeing that I wept, he prefs'd me clofe:
So, leaning cheek to cheek, and eyes to eyes,
We mingled tears in a dumb scene of forrow.

Qu. Forbear; you know not how you wound my
Tor. Can you have grief, and not have pity too?
He told me, when my father did return,
He had a wondrous fecret to disclose.

He kiss'd me, bless'd me, nay, he call'd me fon;
He prais'd my courage; pray'd for my fuccefs;
He was fo true a father to his country,

To thank me for defending ev'n his foes,
Because they were his fubjects.

Qu. If they bè, then what am I?

foul.

Tor. The fovereign of my foul, my earthly Heaven. Qu. And not your Queen.

Tor. You are so beautiful,

So wond'rous fair, you justify rebellion;

As if that faultlefs face could make no fin,

But Heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.

Qu. The King must die, he must, my Torrismond:

E 2

Though

Though pity foftly plead within my foul,
Yet he must die, that I may make you great,
And give a crown in dowry with my love.

yours!

Tor. Perith that crown, on any head but
Oh, recollect your thoughts!
Shake not his hour-glafs, when his hafty fand
Is ebbing to the last.

A little longer, yet a little longer,

And nature drops him down without your fin,
Like mellow fruit without a winter form.
Qu. Let me but do this one injuftice more:
His doom is paft, and for your fake he dies.

Tor. Would you for me have done fo ill an act,
And will not do a good one?

Now, by your joys on earth, your hopes in heaven,
Oh, fpare this great, this good, this aged king,
And fpare your foul the crime!

Qu. The crime's not mine;

'Twas first propos'd, and must be done by Bertran,
Fed with falfe hopes to gain my crown and me.
I, to enhance his ruin, gave no leave;

But barely bade him think, and then refolve.

Tor. In not forbidding, you command the crime.
Think, timely think on the last dreadful day;
How will you tremble, there to stand expos'd,
And foremost in the rank of guilty ghofts,

That inuft be doom'd for murder! Think on múrder:
That troop is plac'd apart from common crimes;
The damn'd themselves ftart wide, and fhun that band,
As far more black, and more forlorn than they.
Qu. 'Tis terrible; it fhakes, it staggers me.
I knew this truth, but I repell'd that thought.
Sure there is none but fears a future ftaté:
And when the most obdurate fwear they do not,
Their trembling hearts belie their boafting tongues."
Enter Terefa.

Send fpeedily to Bertran; charge him strictly
Not to proceed, but wait my further pleasure.

Ter. Madam, he fends to tell you, 'tis perform'd. [Exit.
Tor. Ten thoufand plagues confume him! furies drag

Fiends tear him! Blafted be the arm that ftruck,
The tongue that order'd! only fhe be fpar'd,

[him!

That

“That hinder'd not the deed! Oh, where was then
The power that guards the facred lives of kings?
Why flept the lightning and the thunder-bolts,
Or bent their idle rage on fields and trees,
When vengeance call'd them here? ̧
Qu. Sleep that thought too.

'Tis done; and fince 'tis done, 'tis past recall;
And fince 'tis paft recall, must be forgotten.
Tor. Oh, never, never fhall it be forgotten!
High Heaven will not forget it; after ages
Shall with a fearful curfe remember ours,
And blood fhall never leave the nation more.

Qu. His body fhall be royally interr'd,
And the last funeral pomps adorn his herfe.
I will myself (as I have caufe too juft)
• Be the chief mourner at his obfequies;
And yearly fix, on the revolving day,
The folemn mark of mourning, to atone,
And expiate my offences.

Tor. Nothing can,

But bloody vengeance on that traitor's head,
Which, dear departed fpirit, here I vow.'

Qu. Here end our forrows, and begin our joys.
Love calls, my Torrifmond: though hate has rag'
And rul'd the day, yet love will rule the night.
The spiteful stars have shed their venom down,
And now the peaceful planets take their turn.
• This deed of Bertran's has remov'd all fears,
And giv'n me just occafion to refuse him.'
What hinders now, but that the holy priest
In fecret join our mutual vows? And then
• This night, this happy night is yours and mine."
Tor. Be ftill my forrows, and be loud my joys:
Fly to the utmost circles of the fea,

Thou furious tempeft, that hath tofs'd my mind,
And leave no thought but Leonora there-
What's this?-I feel a boding in
my foul,
As if this day were fatal-Be it fo.
Fate fhall but have the leavings of my love.
My joys are gloomy, but withal are great.
The lion, though he fees the toils are set,

E 3

Yet,

Yet, pinch'd with raging hunger, fcow'rs away,
Hunts in the face of danger all the day,

At night, with fullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his prey.

END of the THIRD ACT.

[Exeunt,

ACT IV.

SCENE, before Gomez's door.

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

I'LL

DOMINICK.

'LL not wag an ace farther: the whole world will' not bribe me to it; for my conscience will digest these grofs enormities no longer.

Lor. How, thy confcience not digest them! There's ne'er a fryar in Spain can fhew a confcience that comes near it for digeftion. It digefted pimping, when I fent thee with my letter; and it digefted perjury, when thou fworeft thou didst not know me: I'm fure it has digested me fifty pound of as hard gold as is in all Barbary: pr'y-" thee, why fhould'ft thou difcourage fornication, when thou knoweft thou lovest a sweet young girl?

Dom. Away; away; I do not love them ;-phau; no,-[Spits.] I do not love a pretty girl-you are fo 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 fatisfaction on't.

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

Lor. I'll not hang alone, fryar; I'm refolved to peach thee before thy fuperiors, for what thou hast done already.

Dom. I am refolved to forfwear it if you do let me