Raym. Arm me with patience, heaven!

Leo. How, patience, Raymond? 
What exercise of patience have you here? 
What find you in my crown to be contemned;
Or in my person loathed?  Have I, a queen,
Past by my fellow-rulers of the world,
Whose vying crowns lay glittering in my way,
As if the world were paved with diadems? 
Have I refused their blood, to mix with yours,
And raise new kings from so obscure a race,
Fate scarce knew where to find them, when I called? 
Have I heaped on my person, crown, and state,
To load the scale, and weighed myself with earth,
For you to spurn the balance?

Raym. Bate the last, and ’tis what I would say: 
Can I, can any loyal subject, see
With patience, such a stoop from sovereignty,
An ocean poured upon a narrow brook? 
My zeal for you must lay the father by,
And plead my country’s cause against my son. 
What though his heart be great, his actions gallant,
He wants a crown to poise against a crown,
Birth to match birth, and power to balance power.

Leo. All these I have, and these I can bestow;
But he brings worth and virtue to my bed;
And virtue is the wealth which tyrants want: 
I stand in need of one, whose glories may
Redeem my crimes, ally me to his fame,
Dispel the factions of my foes on earth,
Disarm the justice of the powers above.

Raym. The people never will endure this choice.

Leo. If I endure it, what imports it you? 
Go, raise the ministers of my revenge,
Guide with your breath this whirling tempest round,
And see its fury fall where I design. 
At last a time for just revenge is given;
Revenge, the darling attribute of heaven: 
But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long;
Still more exposed, the more he pardons wrong;
Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave;
To be a saint, he makes himself a slave. [Exit Queen.

Raym. [Solus.]
Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be,
By heaven, it must not be! or, if it be,
Law, justice, honour, bid farewell to earth,
For heaven leaves all to tyrants.

  Enter TORRISMOND, who kneels to him.

Tor. O, very welcome, sir! 
But doubly now!  You come in such a time,
As if propitious fortune took a care,
To swell my tide of joys to their full height,
And leave me nothing farther to desire.

Raym. I hope, I come in time, if not to make,
At least to save your fortune and your honour. 
Take heed you steer your vessel right, my son;
This calm of heaven, this mermaid’s melody,
Into an unseen whirlpool draws you fast,
And, in a moment, sinks you.

Tor. Fortune cannot,
And fate can scarce; I’ve made the port already,
And laugh securely at the lazy storm,
That wanted wings to reach me in the deep. 
Your pardon, sir; my duty calls me hence;
I go to find my queen, my earthly goddess,
To whom I owe my hopes, my life, my love.