Dor. [To SEB.] Dismiss your train.—­
[To ALM.] You, madam, please one moment to retire.
                            [SEBASTIAN signs to the Portugueses to go
                             off; ALMEYDA, bowing to him, gives off
                             also.  The Africans follow her.

Dor. [To the Captain of the Guard.] With you one word in private. [Goes out with the Captain.

Seb. [Solus.] Reserved behaviour, open nobleness,
A long mysterious track of stern bounty: 
But now the hand of fate is on the curtain,
And draws the scene to sight.

Re-enter DORAX, having taken off his Turban, and put on a Peruke,
Hat, and Cravat.

Dor. Now, do you know me?

Seb. Thou shouldst be Alonzo.

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.