_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?