Bert. Yet this is he, who filled your court with tumult,
Whose fierce demeanour, and whose insolence,
The patience of a god could not support.
Leo. Name his offence, my lord, and he shall have
Immediate punishment.
Bert. 'Tis of so high a nature, should I speak it,
That my presumption then would equal his.
Leo. Some one among you speak.
Ped. Now my tongue itches.[Aside.
Leo. All dumb! On your allegiance, Torrismond,
By all your hopes, I do command you, speak.
Tor. [Kneeling.]
O seek not to convince me of a crime,
Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon;
Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think,
That he who, thus commanded, dares to speak,
406 Unless commanded, would have died in silence.
But you adjured me, madam, by my hopes!
Hopes I have none, for I am all despair;
Friends I have none, for friendship follows favour;
Desert I've none, for what I did was duty:—
Oh that it were!—that it were duty all!
Leo. Why do you pause? proceed.
Tor. As one, condemned to leap a precipice,
Who sees before his eyes the depth below,
Stops short, and looks about for some kind shrub
To break his dreadful fall.—so I—
But whither am I going? If to death,
He looks so lovely sweet in beauty's pomp,
He draws me to his dart.—I dare no more.
Bert. He's mad, beyond the cure of hellebore.
Whips, darkness, dungeons, for this insolence.