Bert. This ’tis, to serve a prince too faithfully;
Who, free from laws himself, will have that done,
Which, not performed, brings us to sure disgrace;
And, if performed, to ruin.

Leo. This ’tis, to counsel things that are unjust;
First, to debauch a king to break his laws,
Which are his safety, and then seek protection
From him you have endangered; but, just heaven,
When sins are judged, will damn the tempting devil,
More deep than those he tempted.

Bert. If princes not protect their ministers, What man will dare to serve them?

Leo. None will dare
To serve them ill, when they are left to laws;
But, when a counsellor, to save himself,
Would lay miscarriages upon his prince,
Exposing him to public rage and hate;
O, ’tis an act as infamously base,
As, should a common soldier sculk behind,
And thrust his general in the front of war: 
It shews, he only served himself before,
And had no sense of honour, country, king,
But centered on himself, and used his master,
As guardians do their wards, with shews of care,
But with intent to sell the public safety,
And pocket up his prince.

Ped. Well said, i’faith; This speech is e’en too good for an usurper. [Aside.

Bert. I see for whom I must be sacrificed;
And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,
I might have found it sooner.

Leo. From my sight! 
The prince, who bears an insolence like this,
Is such an image of the powers above,
As is the statue of the thundering god,
Whose bolts the boys may play with.

Bert. Unrevenged I will not fall, nor single. [Exit.

Leo. Welcome, welcome! [To RAYM. who kisses her hand.
I saw you not before:  One honest lord
Is hid with ease among a crowd of courtiers. 
How can I be too grateful to the father
Of such a son as Torrismond?

Raym. His actions were but duty.

Leo. Yet, my lord,
All have not paid that debt, like noble Torrismond. 
You hear, how Bertran brands me with a crime,
Of which, your son can witness, I am free. 
I sent to stop the murder, but too late;
For crimes are swift, but penitence is slow: 
The bloody Bertran, diligent in ill,
Flew to prevent the soft returns of pity.

Raym. O cursed haste, of making sure of sin!—­ Can you forgive the traitor?

Leo. Never, never: 
’Tis written here in characters so deep,
That seven years hence, (’till then should I not meet him,)
And in the temple then, I’ll drag him thence,
Even from the holy altar to the block.

Raym. She’s fired, as I would wish her; aid me, justice, [Aside.
As all my ends are thine, to gain this point,
And ruin both at once.—­It wounds, indeed, [To her.
To bear affronts, too great to be forgiven,
And not have power to punish; yet one way
There is to ruin Bertran.