Raym. And not the queen’s?  O, she’s the chief offender! 
Shall justice turn her edge within your hand? 
No, if she ’scape, you are yourself the tyrant,
And murderer of your father.

Tor. Cruel fates!  To what have you reserved me?

Raym. Why that sigh?

Tor. Since you must know,—­but break, O break, my heart,
Before I tell my fatal story out!—­
The usurper of my throne, my house’s ruin! 
The murderer of my father,—­is my wife!

Raym. O horror, horror!—­After this alliance,
Let tigers match with hinds, and wolves with sheep,
And every creature couple with his foe. 
How vainly man designs, when heaven opposes! 
I bred you up to arms, raised you to power,
Permitted you to fight for this usurper,
Indeed to save a crown, not hers, but yours,
All to make sure the vengeance of this day,
Which even this day has ruined.  One more question
Let me but ask, and I have done for ever;—­
Do you yet love the cause of all your woes,
Or is she grown, as sure she ought to be,
More odious to your sight than toads and adders?

Tor. O there’s the utmost malice of my fate, That I am bound to hate, and born to love!

Raym. No more!—­Farewell, my much lamented king!—­
I dare not trust him with himself so far,
To own him to the people as their king,
Before their rage has finished my designs
On Bertran and the queen; but in despite,
Even of himself, I’ll save him. [Aside and exit.

Tor. ’Tis but a moment since I have been king,
And weary on’t already; I’m a lover,
And loved, possess,—­yet all these make me wretched;
And heaven has given me blessings for a curse. 
With what a load of vengeance am I prest,
Yet, never, never, can I hope for rest;
For when my heavy burden I remove,
The weight falls down, and crushes her I love. [Exit.

ACT V.

SCENE I.—­A Bed-Chamber.

  Enter TORRISMOND.

Tor. Love, justice, nature, pity, and revenge,
Have kindled up a wildfire in my breast,
And I am all a civil war within!

  Enter Queen and TERESA, at a distance.

My Leonora there!—­
Mine! is she mine? my father’s murderer mine? 
O! that I could, with honour, love her more,
Or hate her less, with reason!—­See, she weeps! 
Thinks me unkind, or false, and knows not why
I thus estrange my person from her bed! 
Shall I not tell her?—­no; ’twill break her heart;
She’ll know too soon her own and my misfortunes. [Exit.

Leo. He’s gone, and I am lost; did’st thou not see His sullen eyes? how gloomily they glanced?  He looked not like the Torrismond I loved.

Ter. Can you not guess from whence this change proceeds?