_Dor._ So you should be Sebastian: But when Sebastian ceased to be himself, I ceased to be Alonzo. _Seb._ As in a dream, I see thee here, and scarce believe mine eyes. _Dor._ Is it so strange to find me, where my wrongs, And your inhuman tyranny, have sent me? Think not you dream; or, if you did, my injuries Shall call so loud, that lethargy should wake, And death should give you back to answer me. A thousand nights have brushed their balmy wings Over these eyes; but ever when they closed, Your tyrant image forced them ope again, And dried the dews they brought: The long expected hour is come at length, By manly vengeance to redeem my fame; And, that once cleared, eternal sleep is welcome. _Seb._ I have not yet forgot I am a king, Whose royal office is redress of wrongs: If I have wronged thee, charge me face to face;-- I have not yet forgot I am a soldier. _Dor._ 'Tis the first justice thou hast ever done me. Then, though I loath this woman's war of tongues, Yet shall my cause of vengeance first be clear; And, honour, be thou judge. _Seb._ Honour befriend us both.-- Beware I warn thee yet, to tell thy griefs In terms becoming majesty to hear: I warn thee thus, because I know thy temper Is insolent, and haughty to superiors. How often hast thou braved my peaceful court, Filled it with noisy brawls, and windy boasts; And with past service, nauseously repeated, Reproached even me, thy prince? _Dor._ And well I might, when you forgot reward, The part of heaven in kings; for punishment Is hangman's work, and drudgery for devils.-- I must, and will reproach thee with my service, Tyrant!--It irks me so to call my prince; But just resentment, and hard usage, coined The unwilling word; and, grating as it is, Take it, for 'tis thy due. _Seb._ How, tyrant? _Dor._ Tyrant. _Seb._ Traitor!--that name thou canst not echo back; That robe of infamy, that circumcision Ill hid beneath that robe, proclaim thee traitor; And, if a name More foul than traitor be, 'tis renegade. _Dor._ If I'm a traitor, think,--and blush, thou tyrant,-- Whose injuries betrayed me into treason, Effaced my loyalty, unhinged my faith, And hurried me, from hopes of heaven, to hell. All these, and all my yet unfinished crimes, When I shall rise to plead before the saints, I charge on thee, to make thy damning sure. _Seb._ Thy old presumptuous arrogance again, That bred my first dislike, and then my loathing.-- Once more be warned, and know me for thy king.