Leo. [Walking aside.]
Ha! let me think of that:—The man I love?
'Tis true, this murder is the only means,
That can secure my throne to Torrismond:
Nay, more, this execution, done by Bertran,
Makes him the object of the people's hate.
Bert. The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her. [Aside.
Leo. How eloquent is mischief to persuade!
Few are so wicked, as to take delight
In crimes unprofitable, nor do I:
If then I break divine and human laws,
No bribe but love could gain so bad a cause.[Aside.
Bert. You answer nothing.
Leo. 'Tis of deep concernment,
And I a woman, ignorant and weak:
I leave it all to you; think, what you do,
You do for him I love.
Bert. For him she loves?
She named not me; that may be Torrismond,
Whom she has thrice in private seen this day;
Then I am fairly caught in my own snare.
I'll think again. [Aside.]—Madam, it shall be done;
And mine be all the blame.[Exit.
Leo. O, that it were! I would not do this crime,
And yet, like heaven, permit it to be done.
The priesthood grossly cheat us with free-will:
Will to do what—but what heaven first decreed?
Our actions then are neither good nor ill,
Since from eternal causes they proceed;
Our passions,—fear and anger, love and hate,—
435 Mere senseless engines that are moved by fate;
Like ships on stormy seas, without a guide,
Tost by the winds, and driven by the tide.
Enter Torrismond.
Tor. Am I not rudely bold, and press too often
Into your presence, madam? If I am—
Leo. No more, lest I should chide you for your stay:
Where have you been? and how could you suppose,
That I could live these two long hours without you?