_Raym._ You are my king;--would you would be your own! But, by a fatal fondness, you betray Your fame and glory to the usurper's bed. Enjoy the fruits of blood and parricide, Take your own crown from Leonora's gift, And hug your father's murderer in your arms! _Enter Queen,_ TERESA, _and Women._ _Alph._ No more; behold the queen. _Raym._ Behold the basilisk of Torrismond, That kills him with her eyes--I will speak on; My life is of no farther use to me: I would have chaffered it before for vengeance; Now let it go for failing. _Tor._ My heart sinks in me while I hear him speak, And every slackened fibre drops its hold, Like nature letting down the springs of life; So much the name of father awes me still-- [_Aside._ Send off the crowd; for you, now I have conquered, I can hear with honour your demands. _Lor._ [_To_ ALPH.] Now, sir, who proves the traitor? My conscience is true to me; it always whispers right, when I have my regiment to back it. [_Exeunt_ LOR. ALPH. PED. &c. _Tor._ O Leonora, what can love do more? I have opposed your ill fate to the utmost; Combated heaven and earth to keep you mine; And yet at last that tyrant justice! Oh-- _Leo._ 'Tis past, 'tis past, and love is ours no more; Yet I complain not of the powers above; They made me a miser's feast of happiness, And could not furnish out another meal. Now, by yon stars, by heaven, and earth, and men, By all my foes at once, I swear, my Torrismond, That to have had you mine for one short day, Has cancelled half my mighty sum of woes! Say but you hate me not. _Tor._ I cannot hate you. _Raym._ Can you not? say that once more, That all the saints may witness it against you. _Leo._ Cruel Raymond! Can he not punish me, but he must hate? O, 'tis not justice, but a brutal rage, Which hates the offender's person with his crimes! I have enough to overwhelm one woman, To lose a crown and lover in a day: Let pity lend a tear, when rigour strikes. _Raym._ Then, then you should have thought of tears and pity, When virtue, majesty, and hoary age, Pleaded for Sancho's life. _Leo._ My future days shall be one whole contrition: A chapel will I build, with large endowment, Where every day an hundred aged men Shall all hold up their withered hands to heaven, To pardon Sancho's death. _Tor._ See, Raymond, see; she makes a large amends: Sancho is dead; no punishment of her Can raise his cold stiff limbs from the dark grave; Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven, Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest, To see, with joy, her miseries on earth. _Raym._ Heaven may forgive a crime to penitence, For heaven can judge if penitence be true; But man, who knows not hearts, should make examples Which, like a warning piece, must be shot off, To fright the rest from crimes. _Leo._ Had I but known that Sancho was his father, I would have poured a deluge of my blood, To save one drop of his.