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.
454 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.
Leo. O, there's none;
Except an host from heaven can make such haste
To save my crown, as he will do to seize it.
You saw, he came surrounded with his friends,
And knew, besides, our army was removed
To quarters too remote for sudden use.
Raym. Yet you may give commission
To some bold man, whose loyalty you trust,
And let him raise the train-bands of the city.
Leo. Gross feeders, lion talkers, lamb-like fighters.
Raym. You do not know the virtues of your city,
What pushing force they have; some popular chief,
More noisy than the rest, but cries halloo,
And, in a trice, the bellowing herd come out;
The gates are barred, the ways are barricadoed,
And One and all's the word; true cocks o'the game,
That never ask, for what, or whom, they fight;
But turn them out, and shew them but a foe,
Cry—Liberty! and that's a cause of quarrel.
Leo. There may be danger in that boisterous rout:
Who knows, when fires are kindled for my foes,
But some new blast of wind may turn those flames
Against my palace-walls?
Raym. But still their chief
Must be some one, whose loyalty you trust.