_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.