But kings miftake its timing, and are mild When manly courage bids them be severe.' [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, Qu. 'Tis of deep concernment, I leave it all to you think, what you do, Bert. [Afide.] For him fhe loves! She nam❜d not me; that may be Torrismond, 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 Where joy ne'er enters, which the fun ne'er cheers, 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, Tor. My heart is wither'd at that piteous fight, Qu. Forbear; you know not how you wound my He kiss'd me, bless'd me, nay, he call'd me fon; To thank me for defending ev'n his foes, 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, yours! Tor. Perith that crown, on any head but A little longer, yet a little longer, And nature drops him down without your fin, Tor. Would you for me have done fo ill an act, Now, by your joys on earth, your hopes in heaven, Qu. The crime's not mine; 'Twas first propos'd, and must be done by Bertran, But barely bade him think, and then refolve. Tor. In not forbidding, you command the crime. That inuft be doom'd for murder! Think on múrder: Send fpeedily to Bertran; charge him strictly Ter. Madam, he fends to tell you, 'tis perform'd. [Exit. Fiends tear him! Blafted be the arm that ftruck, [him! That “That hinder'd not the deed! Oh, where was then 'Tis done; and fince 'tis done, 'tis past recall; Qu. His body fhall be royally interr'd, Tor. Nothing can, But bloody vengeance on that traitor's head, Qu. Here end our forrows, and begin our joys. Thou furious tempeft, that hath tofs'd my mind, E 3 Yet, Yet, pinch'd with raging hunger, fcow'rs away, 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 |