University of Virginia Library

SCENE, A Bed-chamber.
Queen, Teresa.
Ter.
You are not what you were since yesterday:
Your food forsakes you and your needfull 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.

Queen.
O, let 'em never love, who never try'd!
They brought a Paper to me to be sign'd;
Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name;
And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond.
I went to bed, and to my self I thought,
That I wou'd think on Torrismond no more:
Then shut my Eyes; but cou'd not shut out him.
I turn'd; and try'd each corner of my Bed,
To find if Sleep were there, but Sleep was lost.
Fev'rish, for want of Rest, I rise, and walk'd;
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, e'er I was aware, sigh'd to my self,
There fought my Torrismond.

Ter.
What hinders you to take the Man you love?
The People will be glad, the Souldier shout;
And Bertran, though repining, will be aw'd.

Qu.
I fear to try new Love,
As boys to venture on the unknown Ice,
That crackles underneath 'em, while they slide.
Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill!
Betwixt my Doubt and Love, methinks, I stand
Alt'ring, like one that waits an Ague fit;
And yet, wou'd this were all!

Ter.
What fear you more.

Qu.
I am asham'd to say, 'tis but a fancy.
At break of day, when Dreams, they say, are true
A drowzie slumber, rather then a sleep,
Seiz'd 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 appear'd,
Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er;
Leaping and bounding on the Billows heads,
Till safely we had reach'd the farther shore.

Ter.
This Dream portends some ill which you shall scape:
Wou'd 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,
Cou'd you provoke him to give you th'occasion,
And then to throw him off.

Enter Bertran at a distance.
Qu.
My Stars have sent him
For, see, he comes: how gloomily he looks!
If he, as I suspect, have found my Love,
His Jealousie will furnish him with Fury,
And me with means to part.

Bertr.
(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 walk'st as on a narrow Mountain's neck,
A dreadfull height, with scanty room to tread.

Qu.
What Bus'ness have you at the Court, my Lord?

Bert.
What Bus'ness, Madam?

Qu.
Yes, my Lord, What Bus'ness?
'Tis somewhat sure of weighty consequence
That brings you here so often, and unsent for.

Bert.
(Aside.)
'Tis what I fear'd, her words are cold enough
To freeze a man to death.—May I presume
To speak, and to complain?

Qu.
They who complain to Princes think 'em tame:
What Bull dare bellow, or, what Sheep dares bleat,
Within the Lion's den?

Bert.
Yet men are suffer'd to put Heav'n in mind
Of promis'd Blessings, for they then are Debts.

Qu.
My Lord, Heav'n 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 lingring lye,
They count the tedious hours by months and years;
So every day deferr'd to Dying Lovers
Is a whole Age of pain.

Qu.
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, cou'd you see into my secret Soul,
There you might read your own Dominion doubled,
Both as a Queen and Mistress: if you leave me,
Know I can dye, but dare not be displeas'd.

Qu.
Sure you affect Stupidity, my Lord,
Or give me cause to think that when you lost
Three Battels to the Moors, you coldly stood
As unconcern'd as now.

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

Qu.
And with the like tame Gravity you saw
A raw young Warrier take your bafled 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.
Qu.
Bertran, stay;
(Aside.)
This may produce some dismal consequence
To him whom dearer then my Life I love.
To him.
Have I not manag'd my contrivance well,
To try your Love, and make you doubt of mine?

Bert.
Then was it but a Tryal?
Methinks I start as from some dreadfull Dream;
And often ask my self, if yet I wake.
(Aside.)
This turns too quick to be without Design;
I'll sound the bottom of't e'er I believe.

Qu.
I find your Love; and wou'd reward it too,
But anxious Fears solicit my weak breast:
I fear my People's Faith:
That hot mouth'd Beast that bears against the Curb,
Hard to be broken even by lawfull 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, how ever large they spread,
Have but one Root, the old, imprison'd King;
Whose Lenity first pleas'd the gaping Crowd:
But when long tried, and found supinely good,
Like Æsop's Logg, they leapt upon his Back:
Your Father knew 'em well; and when he mounted,
He rein'd 'em strongly and he spurr'd them hard;
And, but he durst not doe it all at once,
He had not left alive this patient Saint,
This Anvil of Affronts, but sent him hence,
To hold a peacefull Branch of Palm above,
And hymn it in the Quire.

Qu.
You've hit upon the very String, which touch'd,
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—

Qu.
My Vertue shrinks from such an horrid Act.

Bert.
This 'tis to have a Vertue out of season.
Mercy is good; a very good dull Vertue;
But Kings mistake its timeing; and are mild,
When manly Courage bids 'em be severe:
Better be cruel once then anxious ever:
Remove this threatning Danger from your Crown;
And then securely take the man you love.

Qu.
(walking aside.)
Ha! let me think of that: the Man I love?
'Tis true, this Murther is the onely 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.
(Aside.)
The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her.

Qu.
(Aside.)
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 humane Laws,
No Bribe but Love cou'd gain so bad a Cause.

Bert.
You answer nothing!

Qu.
'Tis of deep Concernment,
And I a Woman ignorant and weak:
I leave it all to you, think what you doe,
You doe for him I love.

Bert.
(Aside.)
For him she loves?
She nam'd 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—Madam, it shall be done;
And mine be all the blame.
[Exit Bertr.

Qu.
O, that it were! I wou'd not doe this Crime,
And yet like Heaven, permit it to be done.
The Priesthood grosly cheat us with Free-will:
Will to doe 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,
Meer sensless Engines that are mov'd by Fate;
Like Ships on stormy Seas, without a Guide,
Tost by the Winds, and driven by the Tyde.

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

Qu.
No more; lest I shou'd chide you for your stay:
Where have you been? and, How cou'd you suppose
That I cou'd live these two long hours without you?

Tor.
O, words to charm an Angel from his orb?
Welcome, as kindly Showers to long parch'd 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, over-spread with Damps:
Where I have seen (if I cou'd say, I saw)
The good old King majestick in his Bonds,
And 'midst his Griefs most venerably great:
By a dim winking Lamp, which feebly broke
The gloomy Vapors, he lay stretch'd along
Upon the unwholesom Earth; his Eyes fix'd upward:
And ever and anon a silent Tear
Stole down and trickl'd from his hoary Beard.

Qu.
O Heaven, what have I done! my gentle Love,
Here end thy sad discourse, and, for my sake,
Cast off these fearfull melancholy thoughts.

Tor.
My Heart is wither'd at that piteous Sight,
As early Blossoms are with Eastern blasts:
He sent for me, and, while I rais'd his Head,
He threw his aged Arms about my Neck;
And, seeing that I wept, he press'd me close:
So, leaning Cheek to Cheek and Eyes to Eyes,
We mingled Tears in a dumb Scene of Sorrow.

Qu.
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 wondrous Secret to disclose:
He kiss'd me, bless'd me, nay, he call'd me Son;
He prais'd my Courage, pray'd for my Success:
He was so true a Father of his Countrey,
To thank me for defending ev'n his Foes,
Because they were his Subjects.

Qu.
If they be; then what am I?

Tor.
The Sovereign of my Soul, my Earthly Heaven.

Qu.
And not your Queen?

Tor.
You are so beautifull,
So wondrous fair, you justifie Rebellion:
As if that faultless Face could make no Sin,
But Heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.

Qu.
The King must dye, he must, my Torrismond;
Though Pity softly plead within my Soul,
Yet he must dye, 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.

Qu.
Let me but doe this one Injustice more:
His Doom is past; and, for your sake, he dyes.

Tor.
Wou'd you, for me, have done so ill an Act,
And will not doe 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!

Qu.
The Crime's not mine;
'Twas first propos'd, and must be done, by Bertran,
Fed with false hopes to gain my Crown and Me:
I, to inhance his Ruin, gave no leave;
But barely bad him think, and then resolve.

Tor.
In not forbidding, you command the Crime;
Think, timely think, on the last dreadfull day;
How will you tremble there to stand expos'd,
And formost in the rank of guilty Ghosts
That must be doom'd for Murther; think on Murther:
That Troop is plac'd apart from common Crimes;
The damn'd themselves start wide, and shun that Band,
As far more black and more forlorn then they.

Qu.
'Tis terrible, it shakes, it staggers me;
I knew this Truth, but I repell'd that Thought;
Sure there is none but fears a future state;
And, when the most obdurate swear they do not,
Their trembling Hearts bely 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 perform'd.
[Exit Teresa.

Tor.
Ten thousand Plagues consume him, Furies drag him,
Fiends tear him; Blasted be the Arm that strook,
The Tongue that order'd;—Onely She be spar'd
That hindred 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 call'd 'em here?

Qu.
Sleep that Thought too,
'Tis done, and since 'tis done, 'tis past recall:
And since 'tis past recall, must be forgotten.

Tor.
O, never, never, shall it be forgotten;
High Heaven will not forget it, after Ages
Shall with a fearfull Curse remember ours;
And Bloud shall never leave the Nation more!

Qu.
His Body shall be Royally interr'd,
And the last Funeral Pomps adorn his Hearse;
I will my self (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 attone
And expiate my Offences.

Tor.
Nothing can,
But Bloudy Vengeance on that Traitor's Head,
Which, dear departed Spirit, here I vow.

Qu.
Here end our Sorrows, and begin our Joys:
Love calls, my Torrismond; though Hate has rag'd
And rul'd the day, yet Love will rule the night.
The spitefull Stars have shed their Venom down,
And now the peacefull Planets take their turn.
This Deed of Bertran's has remov'd all Fears,
And giv'n 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 tost my mind,
And leave no thought, but Leonora, there.—
What's this I feel aboding 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 withall are great;
The Lion, though he see the Toils are set,
Yet, pinch'd with raging Hunger, scowrs away,
Hunts in the Face of Danger all the day;
At night, with sullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his Prey.

[Exeunt ambo.