Lor. Right; thou speak'st my very soul.

Gom. Why, am not I a friend, then, to help thee out? you would have been fumbling half an hour for this excuse. But, as I remember, you promised to storm my citadel, and bring your regiment of red locusts upon me for free quarters: I find, colonel, by your habit, there are black locusts in the world, as well as red.

Elv. When comes my share of the reckoning to be called for? [Aside.

Lor. Give me thy hand; thou art the honestest, kind man!—I was resolved I would not out of thy house till I had seen thee.

Gom. No, in my conscience, if I had staid abroad till midnight. But, colonel, you and I shall talk in another tone hereafter; I mean, in cold friendship, at a bar before a judge, by the way of plaintiff and defendant. Your excuses want some grains to make them current: Hum, and ha, will not do the business.—There's a modest lady of your acquaintance, she has so much grace to make none at all, but silently to confess the power of dame Nature working in her body to youthful appetite.

Elv. How he got in I know not, unless it were by virtue of his habit.

Gom. Ay, ay, the virtues of that habit are known abundantly.

Elv. I could not hinder his entrance, for he took me unprovided.

Gom. To resist him.

Elv. I'm sure he has not been here above a quarter of an hour.

Gom. And a quarter of that time would have served the turn. O thou epitome of thy virtuous sex! Madam Messalina the second, retire to thy apartment: I have an assignation there to make with thee.

Elv. I am all obedience. [Exit ELVIRA.

Lor. I find, Gomez, you are not the man I thought you. We may meet before we come to the bar, we may; and our differences may be decided by other weapons than by lawyers' tongues. In the mean time, no ill treatment of your wife, as you hope to die a natural death, and go to hell in your bed. Bilbo is the word, remember that and tremble.— [He's going out.

Enter DOMINICK.

Dom. Where is this naughty couple? where are you, in the name of goodness? My mind misgave me, and I durst trust you no longer with yourselves: Here will be fine work, I'm afraid, at your next confession.

Lor. [Aside.] The devil is punctual, I see; he has paid me the shame he owed me; and now the friar is coming in for his part too.

Dom. [Seeing GOM.] Bless my eyes! what do I see?

Gom. Why, you see a cuckold of this honest gentleman's making; I thank him for his pains.

Dom. I confess, I am astonished!

Gom. What, at a cuckoldom of your own contrivance! your head-piece, and his limbs, have done my business. Nay, do not look so strangely; remember your own words,—Here will be fine work at your next confession. What naughty couple were they whom you durst not trust together any longer?—when the hypocritical rogue had trusted them a full quarter of an hour;—and, by the way, horns will sprout in less time than mushrooms.

Dom. Beware how you accuse one of my order upon light suspicions. The naughty couple, that I meant, were your wife and you, whom I left together with great animosities on both sides. Now, that was the occasion,—mark me, Gomez,—that I thought it convenient to return again, and not to trust your enraged spirits too long together. You might have broken out into revilings and matrimonial warfare, which are sins; and new sins make work for new confessions.

Lor. Well said, i'faith, friar; thou art come off thyself, but poor I am left in limbo. [Aside.

Gom. Angle in some other ford, good father, you shall catch no gudgeons here. Look upon the prisoner at the bar, friar, and inform the court what you know concerning him; he is arraigned here by the name of colonel Hernando.

Dom. What colonel do you mean, Gomez? I see no man but a reverend brother of our order, whose profession I honour, but whose person I know not, as I hope for paradise.

Gom. No, you are not acquainted with him, the more's the pity; you do not know him, under this disguise, for the greatest cuckold-maker in all Spain.

Dom. O impudence! O rogue! O villain! Nay, if he be such a man, my righteous spirit rises at him! Does he put on holy garments, for a cover-shame of lewdness?

Gom. Yes, and he's in the right on't, father: when a swinging sin is to be committed, nothing will cover it so close as a friar's hood; for there the devil plays at bo-peep,—puts out his horns to do a mischief, and then shrinks them back for safety, like a snail into her shell.

Lor. It's best marching off, while I can retreat with honour. There's no trusting this friar's conscience; he has renounced me already more heartily than e'er he did the devil, and is in a fair way to prosecute me for putting on these holy robes. This is the old church-trick; the clergy is ever at the bottom of the plot, but they are wise enough to slip their own necks out of the collar, and leave the laity to be fairly hanged for it. [Aside and exit.

Gom. Follow your leader, friar; your colonel is trooped off, but he had not gone so easily, if I durst have trusted you in the house behind me. Gather up your gouty legs, I say, and rid my house of that huge body of divinity.

Dom. I expect some judgment should fall upon you, for your want of reverence to your spiritual director: Slander, covetousness, and jealousy, will weigh thee down.

Gom. Put pride, hypocrisy, and gluttony into your scale, father, and you shall weigh against me: Nay, an sins come to be divided once, the clergy puts in for nine parts, and scarce leaves the laity a tithe.

Dom. How dar'st thou reproach the tribe of Levi?

Gom. Marry, because you make us laymen of the tribe of Issachar. You make asses of us, to bear your burthens. When we are young, you put panniers upon us with your church-discipline; and when we are grown up, you load us with a wife: after that, you procure for other men, and then you load our wives too. A fine phrase you have amongst you to draw us into marriage, you call it—settling of a man; just as when a fellow has got a sound knock upon the head, they say—he's settled: Marriage is a settling-blow indeed. They say every thing in the world is good for something; as a toad, to suck up the venom of the earth; but I never knew what a friar was good for, till your pimping shewed me.

Dom. Thou shalt answer for this, thou slanderer; thy offences be upon thy head.

Gom. I believe there are some offences there of your planting. [Exit DOM.] Lord, Lord, that men should have sense enough to set snares in their warrens to catch polecats and foxes, and yet— Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay, For holy vermin that in houses prey. [Exit GOM.

SCENE III.—A Bed Chamber.

LEONORA, and TERESA.

Ter. You are not what you were, since yesterday; Your food forsakes you, and your needful rest; You pine, you languish, love to be alone; Think much, speak little, and, in speaking, sigh: When you see Torrismond, you are unquiet; But, when you see him not, you are in pain.

Leo. O let them never love, who never tried! They brought a paper to me to be signed; Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name, And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond. I went to bed, and to myself I thought That I would think on Torrismond no more; Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him. I turned, and tried each corner of my bed, To find if sleep were there, but sleep was lost. Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rose, and walked, And, by the moon-shine, to the windows went; There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts, I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields, And, ere I was aware, sighed to myself,— There fought my Torrismond.

Ter. What hinders you to take the man you love? The people will be glad, the soldiers shout, And Bertran, though repining, will be awed.

Leo. I fear to try new love, As boys to venture on the unknown ice, That crackles underneath them while they slide. Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill! Betwixt my doubt and love, methinks I stand Altering, like one that waits an ague fit; And yet, would this were all!

Ter. What fear you more?

Leo. I am ashamed to say, 'tis but a fancy. At break of day, when dreams, they say, are true, A drowzy slumber, rather than a sleep, Seized on my senses, with long watching worn: Methought I stood on a wide river's bank, Which I must needs o'erpass, but knew not how; When, on a sudden, Torrismond appeared, Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er, Leaping and bounding on the billows' heads, 'Till safely we had reached the farther shore.

Ter. This dream portends some ill which you shall 'scape. Would you see fairer visions, take this night Your Torrismond within your arms to sleep; And, to that end, invent some apt pretence To break with Bertran: 'twould be better yet, Could you provoke him to give you the occasion, And then, to throw him off.

Enter BERTRAN at a distance.

Leo. My stars have sent him; For, see, he comes. How gloomily he looks! If he, as I suspect, have found my love, His jealousy will furnish him with fury, And me with means, to part.

Bert. [Aside.] Shall I upbraid her? Shall I call her false? If she be false, 'tis what she most desires. My genius whispers me,—Be cautious, Bertran! Thou walkest as on a narrow mountain's neck, A dreadful height, with scanty room to tread.

Leo. What business have you at the court, my lord?

Bert. What business, madam?

Leo. Yes, my lord, what business? 'Tis somewhat, sure, of weighty consequence, That brings you here so often, and unsent for.

Bert. 'Tis what I feared; her words are cold enough, To freeze a man to death. [Aside.]—May I presume To speak, and to complain?

Leo. They, who complain to princes, think them tame: What bull dares bellow, or what sheep dares bleat, Within the lion's den?

Bert. Yet men are suffered to put heaven in mind Of promised blessings; for they then are debts.

Leo. My lord, heaven knows its own time when to give; But you, it seems, charge me with breach of faith!

Bert. I hope I need not, madam; But as, when men in sickness lingering lie, They count the tedious hours by months and years,— So, every day deferred, to dying lovers, Is a whole age of pain!

Leo. What if I ne'er consent to make you mine? My father's promise ties me not to time; And bonds, without a date, they say, are void.

Bert. Far be it from me to believe you bound; Love is the freest motion of our minds: O could you see into my secret soul, There might you read your own dominion doubled, Both as a queen and mistress. If you leave me, Know I can die, but dare not be displeased.

Leo. Sure you affect stupidity, my lord; Or give me cause to think, that, when you lost Three battles to the Moors, you coldly stood As unconcerned as now.

Bert. I did my best; Fate was not in my power.

Leo. And, with the like tame gravity, you saw A raw young warrior take your baffled work, And end it at a blow.

Bert. I humbly take my leave; but they, who blast Your good opinion of me, may have cause To know, I am no coward. [He is going.

Leo. Bertran, stay. [Aside.] This may produce some dismal consequence To him, whom dearer than my life I love. [To him.] Have I not managed my contrivance well, To try your love, and make you doubt of mine?

Bert. Then, was it but a trial? Methinks I start as from some dreadful dream, And often ask myself if yet I wake.— This turn's too quick to be without design; I'll sound the bottom of't, ere I believe. [Aside.

Leo. I find your love, and would reward it too, But anxious fears solicit my weak breast. I fear my people's faith; That hot-mouthed beast, that bears against the curb, Hard to be broken even by lawful kings, But harder by usurpers. Judge then, my lord, with all these cares opprest, If I can think of love.

Bert. Believe me, madam, These jealousies, however large they spread, Have but one root, the old imprisoned king; Whose lenity first pleased the gaping crowd; But when long tried, and found supinely good, Like AEsop's Log, they leapt upon his back. Your father knew them well; and, when he mounted, He reined them strongly, and he spurred them hard: And, but he durst not do it all at once, He had not left alive this patient saint, This anvil of affronts, but sent him hence To hold a peaceful branch of palm above, And hymn it in the quire.

Leo. You've hit upon the very string, which, touched. Echoes the sound, and jars within my soul;— There lies my grief.

Bert. So long as there's a head, Thither will all the mounting spirits fly; Lop that but off, and then—

Leo. My virtue shrinks from such an horrid act.

Bert. This 'tis to have a virtue out of season. Mercy is good, a very good dull virtue; But kings mistake its timing, and are mild, When manly courage bids them be severe: Better be cruel once, than anxious ever. Remove this threatening danger from your crown, And then securely take the man you love.

Leo. [Walking aside.] Ha! let me think of that:—The man I love? 'Tis true, this murder is the only means, That can secure my throne to Torrismond: Nay, more, this execution, done by Bertran, Makes him the object of the people's hate.

Bert. The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her. [Aside.

Leo. How eloquent is mischief to persuade! Few are so 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. [Aside.

Bert. You answer nothing.

Leo. '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. For him she loves? She named not me; that may be Torrismond, Whom she has thrice in private seen this day; Then I am fairly caught in my own snare. I'll think again. [Aside.]—Madam, it shall be done; And mine be all the blame. [Exit.

Leo. O, that it were! I would not do this crime, And yet, like heaven, permit it to be done. The priesthood grossly 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 causes they proceed; Our passions,—fear and anger, love and hate,— Mere senseless engines that are moved by fate; Like ships on stormy seas, without a guide, Tost by the winds, and driven by the tide.

Enter TORRISMOND.

Tor. Am I not rudely bold, and press too often Into your presence, madam? If I am—

Leo. No more, lest I should chide you for your stay: Where have you been? and how could you suppose, That I could live these two long hours without you?

Tor. O words, to charm an angel from his orb! Welcome, as kindly showers to long-parched earth! But I have been in such a dismal place, Where joy ne'er enters, which the sun ne'er cheers, Bound in with darkness, overspread with damps; Where I have seen (if I could say I saw) The good old king, majestic in his bonds, And, 'midst his griefs, most venerably great: By a dim winking lamp, which feebly broke The gloomy vapours, he lay stretched along Upon the unwholesome earth, his eyes fixed upward; And ever and anon a silent tear Stole down, and trickled from his hoary beard.

Leo. O heaven, what have I done!—my gentle love, Here end thy sad discourse, and, for my sake, Cast off these fearful melancholy thoughts.

Tor. My heart is withered at that piteous sight, As early blossoms are with eastern blasts: He sent for me, and, while I raised his head, He threw his aged arms about my neck; And, seeing that I wept, he pressed me close: So, leaning cheek to cheek, and eyes to eyes, We mingled tears in a dumb scene of sorrow.

Leo. Forbear; you know not how you wound my soul.

Tor. Can you have grief, and not have pity too? He told me,—when my father did return, He had a wond'rous secret to disclose: He kissed me, blessed me, nay—he called me son; He praised my courage; prayed for my success: He was so true a father of his country, To thank me, for defending even his foes, Because they were his subjects.

Leo. If they be,—then what am I?

Tor. The sovereign of my soul, my earthly heaven.

Leo. And not your queen?

Tor. You are so beautiful, So wond'rous fair, you justify rebellion; As if that faultless face could make no sin, But heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.

Leo. The king must die,—he must, my Torrismond, Though pity softly plead within my soul; Yet he must die, that I may make you great, And give a crown in dowry with my love.

Tor. Perish that crown—on any head but yours! O, recollect your thoughts! Shake not his hour-glass, when his hasty sand Is ebbing to the last: A little longer, yet a little longer, And nature drops him down, without your sin; Like mellow fruit, without a winter storm.

Leo. Let me but do this one injustice more. His doom is past, and, for your sake, he dies.

Tor. Would you, for me, have done so ill an act, And will not do a good one! Now, by your joys on earth, your hopes in heaven, O spare this great, this good, this aged king; And spare your soul the crime!

Leo. The crime's not mine; 'Twas first proposed, and must be done, by Bertran, Fed with false hopes to gain my crown and me; I, to enhance his ruin, gave no leave, But barely bade him think, and then resolve.

Tor. In not forbidding, you command the crime: Think, timely think, on the last dreadful day; How will you tremble, there to stand exposed, And foremost, in the rank of guilty ghosts, That must be doomed for murder! think on murder: That troop is placed apart from common crimes; The damned themselves start wide, and shun that band, As far more black, and more forlorn than they.

Leo. 'Tis terrible! it shakes, it staggers me; I knew this truth, but I repelled that thought. Sure there is none, but fears a future state; And, when the most obdurate swear they do not, Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues.

Enter TERESA.

Send speedily to Bertran; charge him strictly Not to proceed, but wait my farther pleasure.

Ter. Madam, he sends to tell you, 'tis performed. [Exit.

Tor. Ten thousand plagues consume him! furies drag him, Fiends tear him! blasted be the arm that struck, The tongue that ordered!—only she be spared, That hindered not the deed! O, where was then The power, that guards the sacred lives of kings? Why slept the lightning and the thunder-bolts, Or bent their idle rage on fields and trees, When vengeance called them here?

Leo. Sleep that thought too; 'Tis done, and, since 'tis done, 'tis past recal; And, since 'tis past recal, must be forgotten.

Tor. O, never, never, shall it be forgotten! High heaven will not forget it; after-ages Shall with a fearful curse remember ours; And blood shall never leave the nation more!

Leo. His body shall be royally interred, And the last funeral-pomps adorn his hearse; I will myself (as I have cause too just,) Be the chief mourner at his obsequies; And yearly fix on the revolving day The solemn marks of mourning, to atone, And expiate my offence.

Tor. Nothing can, But bloody vengeance on that traitor's head,— Which, dear departed spirit, here I vow.

Leo. Here end our sorrows, and begin our joys: Love calls, my Torrismond; though hate has raged, And ruled 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 removed all fears, And given me just occasion to refuse him. What hinders now, but that the holy priest In secret join our mutual vows? and then This night, this happy night, is yours and mine.

Tor. Be still my sorrows, and be loud my joys. Fly to the utmost circles of the sea, Thou furious tempest, that hast tossed my mind, And leave no thought, but Leonora there.— What's this I feel, a boding in my soul, As if this day were fatal? be it so; Fate shall but have the leavings of my love: My joys are gloomy, but withal are great. The lion, though he sees the toils are set, Yet, pinched with raging hunger, scowers away, Hunts in the face of danger all the day; At night, with sullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his prey. [Exeunt.

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.

Lor. I'll not hang alone, friar; I'm resolved to peach thee before thy superiors, for what thou hast done already.

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.

Lor. But how shall I send her word to be ready at the door? for I must reveal it in confession to you, that I mean to carry her away this evening, by the help of these two soldiers. I know Gomez suspects you, and you will hardly gain admittance.

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.

Gom. She's a little indisposed at present, and it will not be convenient to disturb her. [DOMINICK offers to go by him, but t'other stands before him.

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.

Gom. And he'll bring an apothecary, with a chargeable long bill of ana's: those of my family have the grace to die cheaper. In a word, Sir Dominick, we understand one another's business here: I am resolved to stand like the Swiss of my own family, to defend the entrance; you may mumble over your pater nosters, if you please, and try if you can make my doors fly open, and batter down my walls with bell, book, and candle; but I am not of opinion, that you are holy enough to commit miracles.

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.

Dom. Hold a little; I have thought better how to secure him, with less danger to us.

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.

Lor. Why then, father, you must have recourse to your infallible church-remedies; lie impudently, and swear devoutly, and, as you told me but now, let him try whose oath will be first believed. Retire, I hear them coming. [They withdraw.

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?

Lor. Fear nothing; the adventure's ended, and the knight may carry off the lady safely.

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!

Dom. [Aside.] What a hopeful enterprise is here spoiled!

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?

Gom. Such churchmen as you would make any man an infidel.—Get you into your kennel, gentlewoman; I shall thank you within doors for your safe custody of my jewels and your own. [He thrusts his wife off the stage. As for you, colonel Huffcap, we shall try before a civil magistrate, who's the greater plotter of us two, I against the state, or you against the petticoat.

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.

Gom. I'll be revenged of him, if I dare; but he's such a terrible fellow, that my mind misgives me; I shall tremble when I have him before the judge. All my misfortunes come together. I have been robbed, and cuckolded, and ravished, and beaten, in one quarter of an hour; my poor limbs smart, and my poor head aches: ay, do, do, smart limb, ache head, and sprout horns; but I'll be hanged before I'll pity you:—you must needs be married, must ye? there's for that; [Beats his own head.] and to a fine, young, modish lady, must ye? there's for that too; and, at threescore, you old, doting cuckold! take that remembrance;—a fine time of day for a man to be bound prentice, when he is past using of his trade; to set up an equipage of noise, when he has most need of quiet; instead of her being under covert-baron, to be under covert-femme myself; to have my body disabled, and my head fortified; and, lastly, to be crowded into a narrow box with a shrill treble, That with one blast through the whole house does bound, And first taught speaking-trumpets how to sound. [Exit.

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?

Alph. Virtue must be thrown off; 'tis a coarse garment, Too heavy for the sun-shine of a court.

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 Caesar'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.

Bert. Some discontents there are; some idle murmurs.

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?

Bert. No, I confess, you bade me not in words; The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs, And pointed full upon the stroke of murder: Yet this you said, You were a woman, ignorant and weak, So left it to my care.

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.

Ped. Well said, i'faith; This speech is e'en too good for an usurper. [Aside.

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.

Raym. She's fired, as I would wish her; aid me, justice, [Aside. As all my ends are thine, to gain this point, And ruin both at once.—It wounds, indeed, [To her. To bear affronts, too great to be forgiven, And not have power to punish; yet one way There is to ruin Bertran.

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.

Raym. [Aside to ALPH. and PED.] First sieze Bertran, And then insinuate to them, that I bring Their lawful prince to place upon the throne.

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!

Leo. How, patience, Raymond? What exercise of patience have you here? What find you in my crown to be contemned; Or in my person loathed? Have I, a queen, Past by my fellow-rulers of the world, Whose vying crowns lay glittering in my way, As if the world were paved with diadems? Have I refused their blood, to mix with yours, And raise new kings from so obscure a race, Fate scarce knew where to find them, when I called? Have I heaped on my person, crown, and state, To load the scale, and weighed myself with earth, For you to spurn the balance?

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.

Leo. If I endure it, what imports it you? Go, raise the ministers of my revenge, Guide with your breath this whirling tempest round, And see its fury fall where I design. At last a time for just revenge is given; Revenge, the darling attribute of heaven: But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long; Still more exposed, the more he pardons wrong; Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave; To be a saint, he makes himself a slave. [Exit Queen.

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.

Tor. I see no danger; The city, army, court, espouse my cause, And, more than all, the queen, with public favour, Indulges my pretensions to her love.

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.

Raym. So diseases are: Should not a lingering fever be removed, Because it long has raged within my blood? Do I rebel, when I would thrust it out? What, shall I think the world was made for one, And men are born for kings, as beasts for men, Not for protection, but to be devoured? Mark those, who dote on arbitrary power, And you shall find them either hot-brained youth, Or needy bankrupts, servile in their greatness, And slaves to some, to lord it o'er the rest. O baseness, to support a tyrant throne, And crush your freeborn brethren of the world! Nay, to become a part of usurpation; To espouse the tyrant's person and her crimes, And, on a tyrant, get a race of tyrants, To be your country's curse in after ages.

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?

Tor. No honour bids me fight against myself; The royal family is all extinct, And she, who reigns, bestows her crown on me: So must I be ungrateful to the living, To be but vainly pious to the dead, While you defraud your offspring of their fate.

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.

Tor. O, cruel man, to tell me that it must! If you have any pity in your breast, Redeem me from this labyrinth of fate, And plunge me in my first obscurity. The secret is alone between us two; And, though you would not hide me from myself, O, yet be kind, conceal me from the world, And be my father still!

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?

Tor. O there's the utmost malice of my fate, That I am bound to hate, and born to love!

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.

My Leonora there!— Mine! is she mine? my father's murderer mine? O! that I could, with honour, love her more, Or hate her less, with reason!—See, she weeps! Thinks me unkind, or false, and knows not why I thus estrange my person from her bed! Shall I not tell her?—no; 'twill break her heart; She'll know too soon her own and my misfortunes. [Exit.

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?

Leo. Last night he flew not with a bridegroom's haste, Which eagerly prevents the appointed hour: I told the clocks, and watched the wasting light, And listened to each softly-treading step, In hope 'twas he; but still it was not he. At last he came, but with such altered looks, So wild, so ghastly, as if some ghost had met him: All pale, and speechless, he surveyed me round; Then, with a groan, he threw himself a-bed, But, far from me, as far as he could move, And sighed and tossed, and turned, but still from me.

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.

SONG.

Farewell, ungrateful traitor! Farewell, my perjured swain! Let never injured creature Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But 'tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain.

'Tis easy to deceive us, In pity of your pain; But when we love, you leave us, To rail at you in vain. Before we have descried it, There is no bliss beside it; But she, that once has tried it, Will never love again.

The passion you pretended, Was only to obtain; But when the charm is ended, The charmer you disdain. Your love by ours we measure, Till we have lost our treasure; But dying is a pleasure, When living is a pain.

Re-enter TORRISMOND.

Tor. Still she is here, and still I cannot speak; But wander, like some discontented ghost, That oft appears, but is forbid to talk. [Going again.

Leo. O, Torrismond, if you resolve my death, You need no more, but to go hence again; Will you not speak?

Tor. I cannot.

Leo. Speak! oh, speak! Your anger would be kinder than your silence.

Tor. Oh!—

Leo. Do not sigh, or tell me why you sigh.

Tor. Why do I live, ye powers!

Leo. Why do I live to hear you speak that word? Some black-mouthed villain has defamed my virtue.

Tor. No, no! Pray, let me go.

Leo. [Kneeling.] You shall not go! By all the pleasures of our nuptial bed, If ever I was loved, though now I'm not, By these true tears, which, from my wounded heart, Bleed at my eyes—

Tor. Rise.

Leo. I will never rise; I cannot chuse a better place to die.

Tor. Oh! I would speak, but cannot.

Leo. [Rising.] Guilt keeps you silent then; you love me not: What have I done, ye powers, what have I done, To see my youth, my beauty, and my love, No sooner gained, but slighted and betrayed; And, like a rose, just gathered from the stalk, But only smelt, and cheaply thrown aside, To wither on the ground.

Ter. For heaven's sake, madam, moderate your passion!

Leo. Why namest thou heaven? there is no heaven for me. Despair, death, hell, have seized my tortured soul! When I had raised his grovelling fate from ground, To power and love, to empire, and to me; When each embrace was dearer than the first; Then, then to be contemned; then, then thrown off! It calls me old, and withered, and deformed, And loathsome! Oh! what woman can bear loathsome? The turtle flies not from his billing mate, He bills the closer; but, ungrateful man, Base, barbarous man! the more we raise our love, The more we pall, and kill, and cool his ardour. Racks, poison, daggers, rid me of my life; And any death is welcome.

Tor. Be witness all ye powers, that know my heart, I would have kept the fatal secret hid; But she has conquered, to her ruin conquered: Here, take this paper, read our destinies;— Yet do not; but, in kindness to yourself, Be ignorantly safe.

Leo. No! give it me, Even though it be the sentence of my death.

Tor. Then see how much unhappy love has made us. O Leonora! Oh! We two were born when sullen planets reigned; When each the other's influence opposed, And drew the stars to factions at our birth. Oh! better, better had it been for us, That we had never seen, or never loved.

Leo. There is no faith in heaven, if heaven says so; You dare not give it.

Tor. As unwillingly, As I would reach out opium to a friend, Who lay in torture, and desired to die. [Gives the Paper. But now you have it, spare my sight the pain Of seeing what a world of tears it costs you. Go, silently, enjoy your part of grief, And share the sad inheritance with me.

Leo. I have a thirsty fever in my soul; Give me but present ease, and let me die. [Exeunt Queen and TERESA.

Enter LORENZO.

Lor. Arm, arm, my lord! the city bands are up; Drums beating, colours flying, shouts confused; All clustering in a heap, like swarming hives, And rising in a moment.

Tor. With design to punish Bertran, and revenge the king; 'Twas ordered so.

Lor. Then you're betrayed, my lord. 'Tis true, they block the castle kept by Bertran, But now they cry, "Down with the palace, fire it, Pull out the usurping queen!"

Tor. The queen, Lorenzo! durst they name the queen?

Lor. If railing and reproaching be to name her.

Tor. O sacrilege! say quickly, who commands This vile blaspheming rout?

Lor. I'm loth to tell you; But both our fathers thrust them headlong on, And bear down all before them.

Tor. Death and hell! Somewhat must be resolved, and speedily. How say'st thou, my Lorenzo? dar'st thou be A friend, and once forget thou art a son, To help me save the queen?

Lor. [Aside.] Let me consider:— Bear arms against my father? he begat me;— That's true; but for whose sake did he beget me? For his own, sure enough: for me he knew not. Oh! but says conscience,—Fly in nature's face?— But how, if nature fly in my face first? Then nature's the aggressor; let her look to't.— He gave me life, and he may take it back: No, that's boys' play, say I. 'Tis policy for a son and father to take different sides: For then, lands and tenements commit no treason. [To TOR.] Sir, upon mature consideration, I have found my father to be little better than a rebel, and therefore, I'll do my best to secure him, for your sake; in hope, you may secure him hereafter for my sake.

Tor. Put on thy utmost speed to head the troops, Which every moment I expect to arrive; Proclaim me, as I am, the lawful king: I need not caution thee for Raymond's life, Though I no more must call him father now.

Lor. [Aside.] How! not call him father? I see preferment alters a man strangely; this may serve me for a use of instruction, to cast off my father when I am great. Methought too, he called himself the lawful king; intimating sweetly, that he knows what's what with our sovereign lady:—Well if I rout my father, as I hope in heaven I shall, I am in a fair way to be the prince of the blood.—Farewell, general; I will bring up those that shall try what mettle there is in orange tawny. [Exit.

Tor. [At the Door.] Haste there; command the guards be all drawn up Before the palace-gate.—By heaven, I'll face This tempest, and deserve the name of king! O Leonora, beauteous in thy crimes, Never were hell and heaven so matched before! Look upward, fair, but as thou look'st on me; Then all the blest will beg, that thou may'st live, And even my father's ghost his death forgive. [Exit.

SCENE II.—The Palace-Yard. Drums and Trumpets within.

Enter RAYMOND, ALPHONSO, PEDRO, and their Party.

Raym. Now, valiant citizens, the time is come, To show your courage, and your loyalty. You have a prince of Sancho's royal blood, The darling of the heavens, and joy of earth; When he's produced, as soon he shall, among you, Speak, what will you adventure to reseat him Upon his father's throne?

Omn. Our lives and fortunes.

Raym. What then remains to perfect our success; But o'er the tyrant's guards to force our way?

Omn. Lead on, lead on. [Drums and Trumpets on the other side.

Enter TORRISMOND and his Party: As they are going to fight, he speaks.

Tor. [To his.] Hold, hold your arms.

Raym. [To his.] Retire.

Alph. What means this pause?

Ped. Peace; nature works within them. [ALPH. and PED. go apart.

Tor. How comes it, good old man, that we two meet On these harsh terms? thou very reverend rebel; Thou venerable traitor, in whose face And hoary hairs treason is sanctified, And sin's black dye seems blanched by age to virtue.

Raym. What treason is it to redeem my king, And to reform the state?

Tor. That's a stale cheat; The primitive rebel, Lucifer, first used it, And was the first reformer of the skies.

Raym. What, if I see my prince mistake a poison, Call it a cordial,—am I then a traitor, Because I hold his hand, or break the glass?

Tor. How darest thou serve thy king against his will?

Raym. Because 'tis then the only time to serve him.

Tor. I take the blame of all upon myself; Discharge thy weight on me.

Raym. O never, never! Why, 'tis to leave a ship, tossed in a tempest, Without the pilot's care.

Tor. I'll punish thee; By heaven, I will, as I would punish rebels, Thou stubborn loyal man!

Raym. First let me see Her punished, who misleads you from your fame; Then burn me, hack me, hew me into pieces, And I shall die well pleased.

Tor. Proclaim my title, To save the effusion of my subjects' blood; and thou shalt still Be as my foster-father near my breast, And next my Leonora.

Raym. That word stabs me. You shall be still plain Torrismond with me; The abettor, partner, (if you like that name,) The husband of a tyrant; but no king, Till you deserve that title by your justice.

Tor. Then farewell, pity; I will be obeyed.— [To the People.] Hear, you mistaken men, whose loyalty Runs headlong into treason: See your prince! In me behold your murdered Sancho's son; Dismiss your arms, and I forgive your crimes.

Raym. Believe him not; he raves; his words are loose As heaps of sand, and scattering wide from sense. You see he knows not me, his natural father; But, aiming to possess the usurping queen, So high he's mounted in his airy hopes, That now the wind is got into his head, And turns his brains to frenzy.

Tor. Hear me yet; I am—

Raym. Fall on, fall on, and hear him not; But spare his person, for his father's sake.

Ped. Let me come; if he be mad, I have that shall cure him. There's no surgeon in all Arragon has so much dexterity as I have at breathing of the temple-vein.

Tor. My right for me!

Raym. Our liberty for us!

Omn. Liberty, liberty!

As they are ready to Fight, enter LORENZO and his Party.

Lor. On forfeit of your lives, lay down your arms.

Alph. How, rebel, art thou there?

Lor. Take your rebel back again, father mine: The beaten party are rebels to the conquerors. I have been at hard-head with your butting citizens; I have routed your herd; I have dispersed them; and now they are retreated quietly, from their extraordinary vocation of fighting in the streets, to their ordinary vocation of cozening in their shops.

Tor. [To RAYM.] You see 'tis vain contending with the truth; Acknowledge what I am.

Raym. You are my king;—would you would be your own! But, by a fatal fondness, you betray Your fame and glory to the usurper's bed. Enjoy the fruits of blood and parricide, Take your own crown from Leonora's gift, And hug your father's murderer in your arms!

Enter Queen, TERESA, and Women.

Alph. No more; behold the queen.

Raym. Behold the basilisk of Torrismond, That kills him with her eyes—I will speak on; My life is of no farther use to me: I would have chaffered it before for vengeance; Now let it go for failing.

Tor. My heart sinks in me while I hear him speak, And every slackened fibre drops its hold, Like nature letting down the springs of life; So much the name of father awes me still— [Aside. Send off the crowd; for you, now I have conquered, I can hear with honour your demands.

Lor. [To ALPH.] Now, sir, who proves the traitor? My conscience is true to me; it always whispers right, when I have my regiment to back it. [Exeunt LOR. ALPH. PED. &c.

Tor. O Leonora, what can love do more? I have opposed your ill fate to the utmost; Combated heaven and earth to keep you mine; And yet at last that tyrant justice! Oh—

Leo. 'Tis past, 'tis past, and love is ours no more; Yet I complain not of the powers above; They made me a miser's feast of happiness, And could not furnish out another meal. Now, by yon stars, by heaven, and earth, and men, By all my foes at once, I swear, my Torrismond, That to have had you mine for one short day, Has cancelled half my mighty sum of woes! Say but you hate me not.

Tor. I cannot hate you.

Raym. Can you not? say that once more, That all the saints may witness it against you.

Leo. Cruel Raymond! Can he not punish me, but he must hate? O, 'tis not justice, but a brutal rage, Which hates the offender's person with his crimes! I have enough to overwhelm one woman, To lose a crown and lover in a day: Let pity lend a tear, when rigour strikes.

Raym. Then, then you should have thought of tears and pity, When virtue, majesty, and hoary age, Pleaded for Sancho's life.

Leo. My future days shall be one whole contrition: A chapel will I build, with large endowment, Where every day an hundred aged men Shall all hold up their withered hands to heaven, To pardon Sancho's death.

Tor. See, Raymond, see; she makes a large amends: Sancho is dead; no punishment of her Can raise his cold stiff limbs from the dark grave; Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven, Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest, To see, with joy, her miseries on earth.

Raym. Heaven may forgive a crime to penitence, For heaven can judge if penitence be true; But man, who knows not hearts, should make examples Which, like a warning piece, must be shot off, To fright the rest from crimes.

Leo. Had I but known that Sancho was his father, I would have poured a deluge of my blood, To save one drop of his.

Tor. Mark that, inexorable Raymond, mark! 'Twas fatal ignorance, that caused his death.

Raym. What! if she did not know he was your father, She knew he was a man, the best of men; Heaven's image double-stamped, as man and king.

Leo. He was, he was, even more than you can say; But yet—

Raym. But yet you barbarously murdered him.

Leo. He will not hear me out!

Tor. Was ever criminal forbid to plead? Curb your ill-mannered zeal.

Raym. Sing to him, syren; For I shall stop my ears: Now mince the sin, And mollify damnation with a phrase; Say, you consented not to Sancho's death, But barely not forbade it.

Leo. Hard-hearted man, I yield my guilty cause; But all my guilt was caused by too much love. Had I, for jealousy of empire, sought Good Sancho's death, Sancho had died before. 'Twas always in my power to take his life; But interest never could my conscience blind, Till love had cast a mist before my eyes, And made me think his death the only means Which could secure my throne to Torrismond.

Tor. Never was fatal mischief meant so kind, For all she gave has taken all away. Malicious powers! is this to be restored? 'Tis to be worse deposed than Sancho was.

Raym. Heaven has restored you, you depose yourself. Oh, when young kings begin with scorn of justice, They make an omen to their after reign, And blot their annals in the foremost page.

Tor. No more; lest you be made the first example, To show how I can punish.

Raym. Once again: Let her be made your father's sacrifice, And after make me hers.

Tor. Condemn a wife! That were to atone for parricide with murder.

Raym. Then let her be divorced: we'll be content With that poor scanty justice; let her part.

Tor. Divorce! that's worse than death, 'tis death of love.

Leo. The soul and body part not with such pain, As I from you; but yet 'tis just, my lord: I am the accurst of heaven, the hate of earth, Your subjects' detestation, and your ruin; And therefore fix this doom upon myself.

Tor. Heaven! Can you wish it, to be mine no more?

Leo. Yes, I can wish it, as the dearest proof, And last, that I can make you of my love. To leave you blest, I would be more accurst Than death can make me; for death ends our woes, And the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene: But I would live without you, to be wretched long; And hoard up every moment of my life, To lengthen out the payment of my tears, Till even fierce Raymond, at the last, shall say,— Now let her die, for she has grieved enough.

Tor. Hear this, hear this, thou tribune of the people! Thou zealous, public blood-hound, hear, and melt!

Raym. [Aside.] I could cry now; my eyes grow womanish, But yet my heart holds out.

Leo. Some solitary cloister will I chuse, And there with holy virgins live immured: Coarse my attire, and short shall be my sleep, Broke by the melancholy midnight bell. Now, Raymond, now be satisfied at last: Fasting and tears, and penitence and prayer, Shall do dead Sancho justice every hour.

Raym. [Aside.] By your leave, manhood! [Wipes his eyes.

Tor. He weeps! now he is vanquished.

Raym. No: 'tis a salt rheum, that scalds my eyes.

Leo. If he were vanquished, I am still unconquered. I'll leave you in the height of all my love, Even when my heart is beating out its way, And struggles to you most. Farewell, a last farewell, my dear, dear lord! Remember me!—speak, Raymond, will you let him? Shall he remember Leonora's love, And shed a parting tear to her misfortunes?

Raym. [Almost crying.] Yes, yes, he shall; pray go.

Tor. Now, by my soul, she shall not go: why, Raymond, Her every tear is worth a father's life. Come to my arms, come, my fair penitent! Let us not think what future ills may fall. But drink deep draughts of love, and lose them all. [Exeunt TOR. with the Queen.

Raym. No matter yet, he has my hook within him. Now let him frisk and flounce, and run and roll, And think to break his hold; he toils in vain. This love, the bait he gorged so greedily, Will make him sick, and then I have him sure.

Enter ALPHONSO and PEDRO.

Alph. Brother, there's news from Bertran; he desires Admittance to the king, and cries aloud,— This day shall end our fears of civil war!— For his safe conduct he entreats your presence, And begs you would be speedy.

Raym. Though I loath The traitor's sight, I'll go. Attend us here. [Exit.

Enter GOMEZ, ELVIRA, DOMINICK, with Officers, to make the Stage as full as possible.

Ped. Why, how now, Gomez? what mak'st thou here, with a whole brotherhood of city-bailiffs? Why, thou look'st like Adam in Paradise, with his guard of beasts about him.

Gom. Ay, and a man had need of them, Don Pedro; for here are the two old seducers, a wife and priest,—that's Eve and the serpent,—at my elbow.

Dom. Take notice how uncharitably he talks of churchmen.

Gom. Indeed, you are a charitable belswagger! My wife cried out,— "Fire, fire!" and you brought out your church-buckets, and called for engines to play against it.

Alph. I am sorry you are come hither to accuse your wife; her education has been virtuous, her nature mild and easy.

Gom. Yes! she's easy, with a vengeance; there's a certain colonel has found her so.

Alph. She came a spotless virgin to your bed.

Gom. And she's a spotless virgin still for me—she's never the worse for my wearing, I'll take my oath on't. I have lived with her with all the innocence of a man of threescore, like a peaceable bed-fellow as I am.

Elv. Indeed, sir, I have no reason to complain of him for disturbing of my sleep.

Dom. A fine commendation you have given yourself; the church did not marry you for that.

Ped. Come, come, your grievances, your grievances.

Dom. Why, noble sir, I'll tell you.

Gom. Peace, friar! and let me speak first. I am the plaintiff. Sure you think you are in the pulpit, where you preach by hours.

Dom. And you edify by minutes.

Gom. Where you make doctrines for the people, and uses and applications for yourselves.

Ped. Gomez, give way to the old gentleman in black.

Gom. No! the t'other old gentleman in black shall take me if I do; I will speak first!—Nay, I will, friar, for all your verbum sacerdotis. I'll speak truth in few words, and then you may come afterwards and lie by the clock as you use to do.—For, let me tell you, gentlemen, he shall lie and forswear himself with any friar in all Spain; that's a bold word now.—

Dom. Let him alone; let him alone; I shall fetch him back with a circum-bendibus, I warrant him.

Alph. Well, what have you to say against your wife, Gomez?

Gom. Why, I say, in the first place, that I and all men are married for our sins, and that our wives are a judgment; that a batchelor-cobler is a happier man than a prince in wedlock; that we are all visited with a household plague, and, Lord have mercy upon us should be written on all our doors[2].

Dom. Now he reviles marriage, which is one of the seven blessed sacraments.

Gom. 'Tis liker one of the seven deadly sins: but make your best on't, I care not; 'tis but binding a man neck and heels, for all that. But, as for my wife, that crocodile of Nilus, she has wickedly and traitorously conspired the cuckoldom of me, her anointed sovereign lord; and, with the help of the aforesaid friar, whom heaven confound, and with the limbs of one colonel Hernando, cuckold-maker of this city, devilishly contrived to steal herself away, and under her arm feloniously to bear one casket of diamonds, pearls, and other jewels, to the value of 30,000 pistoles.—Guilty, or not guilty? how sayest thou, culprit?

Dom. False and scandalous! Give me the book. I'll take my corporal oath point-blank against every particular of this charge.

Elv. And so will I.

Dom. As I was walking in the streets, telling my beads, and praying to myself, according to my usual custom, I heard a foul out-cry before Gomez' portal; and his wife, my penitent, making doleful lamentations: thereupon, making what haste my limbs would suffer me, that are crippled with often kneeling, I saw him spurning and listing her most unmercifully; whereupon, using Christian arguments with him to desist, he fell violently upon me, without respect to my sacerdotal orders, pushed me from him, and turned me about with a finger and a thumb, just as a man would set up a top. Mercy! quoth I.—Damme! quoth he;—and still continued labouring me, until a good-minded colonel came by, whom, as heaven shall save me, I had never seen before.

Gom. O Lord! O Lord!

Dom. Ay, and O lady! O lady too!—I redouble my oath, I had never seen him. Well, this noble colonel, like a true gentleman, was for taking the weaker part, you may be sure; whereupon this Gomez flew upon him like a dragon, got him down, the devil being strong in him, and gave him bastinado upon bastinado, and buffet upon buffet, which the poor meek colonel, being prostrate, suffered with a most Christian patience.

Gom. Who? he meek? I'm sure I quake at the very thought of him; why, he's as fierce as Rhodomont; he made assault and battery upon my person, beat me into all the colours of the rainbow; and every word this abominable priest has uttered is as false as the Alcoran. But if you want a thorough-paced liar, that will swear through thick and thin, commend me to a friar.

Enter LORENZO, who comes behind the Company, and stands at his Fathers back unseen, over-against GOMEZ.

Lor. How now! What's here to do? my cause a trying, as I live, and that before my own father.—Now fourscore take him for an old bawdy magistrate, that stands like the picture of madam Justice, with a pair of scales in his hand, to weigh lechery by ounces! [Aside.

Alph. Well—but all this while, who is this colonel Hernando?

Gom. He's the first begotten of Beelzebub, with a face as terrible as Demogorgon. [LORENZO peeps over ALPHONSO'S Head, and stares at GOMEZ. No! I lie, I lie. He's a very proper handsome fellow! well proportioned, and clean shaped, with a face like a cherubin.

Ped. What, backward and forward, Gomez! dost thou hunt counter?

Alph. Had this colonel any former design upon your wife? for, if that be proved, you shall have justice.

Gom. [Aside.] Now I dare speak,—let him look as dreadfully as he will.—I say, sir, and I will prove it, that he had a lewd design upon her body, and attempted to corrupt her honesty. [LORENZO lifts up his fist clenched at him. I confess my wife was as willing—as himself; and, I believe, 'twas she corrupted him; for I have known him formerly a very civil and modest person.

Elv. You see, sir, he contradicts himself at every word; he's plainly mad.

Alph. Speak boldly, man! and say what thou wilt stand by: did he strike thee?

Gom. I will speak boldly; he struck me on the face before my own threshold, that the very walls cried shame to him. [LORENZO holds up again. 'Tis true, I gave him provocation, for the man's as peaceable a gentleman as any is in all Spain.

Dom. Now the truth comes out, in spite of him.

Ped. I believe the friar has bewitched him.

Alph. For my part, I see no wrong that has been offered him.

Gom. How? no wrong? why, he ravished me, with the help of two soldiers, carried me away vi et armis, and would put me into a plot against government. [LORENZO holds up again. I confess, I never could endure the government, because it was tyrannical; but my sides and shoulders are black and blue, as I can strip and show the marks of them. [LORENZO again. But that might happen, too, by a fall that I got yesterday upon the pebbles. [All laugh.

Dom. Fresh straw, and a dark chamber; a most manifest judgment! there never comes better of railing against the church.

Gom. Why, what will you have me say? I think you'll make me mad: truth has been at my tongue's end this half hour, and I have not power to bring it out, for fear of this bloody-minded colonel.

Alph. What colonel?

Gom. Why, my colonel—I mean my wife's colonel, that appears there to me like my malus genius, terrifies me.

Alph. [Turning.] Now you are mad indeed, Gomez; this is my son Lorenzo.

Gom. How? your son Lorenzo! it is impossible.

Alph. As true as your wife Elvira is my daughter.

Lor. What, have I taken all this pains about a sister?

Gom. No, you have taken some about me; I am sure, if you are her brother, my sides can show the tokens of our alliance.

Alph. to Lor. You know I put your sister into a nunnery, with a strict command not to see you, for fear you should have wrought upon her to have taken the habit, which was never my intention; and consequently, I married her without your knowledge, that it might not be in your power to prevent it.

Elv. You see, brother, I had a natural affection to you.

Lor. What a delicious harlot have I lost! Now, pox upon me, for being so near a-kin to thee!

Elv. However, we are both beholden to friar Dominick; the church is an indulgent mother, she never fails to do her part.

Dom. Heavens! what will become of me?

Gom. Why, you are not like to trouble heaven; those fat guts were never made for mounting.

Lor. I shall make bold to disburden him of my hundred pistoles, to make him the lighter for his journey: indeed, 'tis partly out of conscience, that I may not be accessory to his breaking his vow of poverty.

Alph. I have no secular power to reward the pains you have taken with my daughter; but I shall do it by proxy, friar: your bishop's my friend, and is too honest to let such as you infect a cloister.

Gom. Ay, do, father-in-law, let him be stript of his habit, and disordered.—I would fain see him walk in querpo, like a cased rabbit, without his holy fur upon his back, that the world may once behold the inside of a friar.

Dom. Farewell, kind gentlemen; I give you all my blessing before I go.—May your sisters, wives, and daughters, be so naturally lewd, that they may have no occasion for a devil to tempt, or a friar to pimp for them. [Exeunt, with a rabble pushing him.

Enter TORRISMOND, LEONORA, BERTRAN, RAYMOND, TERESA, &c.

Tor. He lives! he lives! my royal father lives! Let every one partake the general joy. Some angel with a golden trumpet sound, King Sancho lives! and let the echoing skies From pole to pole resound, king Sancho lives!— Bertran, oh! no more my foe, but brother; One act like this blots out a thousand crimes.

Bert. Bad men, when 'tis their interest, may do good. I must confess, I counselled Sancho's murder; And urged the queen by specious arguments: But, still suspecting that her love was changed, I spread abroad the rumour of his death, To sound the very soul of her designs. The event, you know, was answering to my fears; She threw the odium of the fact on me, And publicly avowed her love to you.

Raym. Heaven guided all, to save the innocent.

Bert. I plead no merit, but a bare forgiveness.

Tor. Not only that, but favour. Sancho's life, Whether by virtue or design preserved, Claims all within my power.

Leo. My prayers are heard; And I have nothing farther to desire, But Sancho's leave to authorise our marriage.

Tor. Oh! fear not him! pity and he are one; So merciful a king did never live; Loth to revenge, and easy to forgive. But let the bold conspirator beware, For heaven makes princes its peculiar care. [Exeunt.

Footnotes: 1. Alluding to the common superstition, that the continuance of the favours of fairies depends upon the receiver's secrecy:—"This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with it, keep it close; home, home, the nearest way. We are lucky, boy, and, to be so still, requires nothing but secrecy;" Winter's Tale.

2. A red cross, with the words, "Lord have mercy upon us," was placed, during the great plague, upon the houses visited by the disease.



EPILOGUE.

BY A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR'S.

There's none, I'm sure, who is a friend to love, But will our Friar's character approve: The ablest spark among you sometimes needs Such pious help, for charitable deeds. Our church, alas! (as Rome objects) does want These ghostly comforts for the falling saint: This gains them their whore-converts, and may be One reason of the growth of popery. So Mahomet's religion came in fashion, By the large leave it gave to fornication. Fear not the guilt, if you can pay for't well; There is no Dives in the Roman Hell: Gold opens the strait gate, and lets him in; But want of money is a mortal sin. For all besides you may discount to heaven, And drop a bead to keep the tallies even. How are men cozened still with shows of good! The bawd's best mask is the grave friar's hood; Though vice no more a clergyman displeases, Than doctors can be thought to hate diseases. 'Tis by your living ill, that they live well, By your debauches, their fat paunches swell. 'Tis a mock-war between the priest and devil; When they think fit, they can be very civil. As some, who did French counsels most advance, To blind the world, have railed in print at France, Thus do the clergy at your vices bawl, That with more ease they may engross them all. By damning yours, they do their own maintain; A churchman's godliness is always gain: Hence to their prince they will superior be; And civil treason grows church loyalty. They boast the gift of heaven is in their power; Well may they give the god, they can devour! Still to the sick and dead their claims they lay; For 'tis on carrion that the vermin prey. Nor have they less dominion on our life, They trot the husband, and they pace the wife. Rouse up, you cuckolds of the northern climes, And learn from Sweden to prevent such crimes. Unman the Friar, and leave the holy drone To hum in his forsaken hive alone; He'll work no honey, when his sting is gone. Your wives and daughters soon will leave the cells, When they have lost the sound of Aaron's bells.

* * * * *

END OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.

Edinburgh,

Printed by J. Ballantyne & Co.