_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._