Omn. Liberty, liberty!
472 As they are ready to Fight, enter Lorenzo and his Party.
Lor. On forfeit of your lives, lay down your arms.
Alph. How, rebel, art thou there?
Lor. Take your rebel back again, father mine: The beaten party are rebels to the conquerors. I have been at hard-head with your butting citizens; I have routed your herd; I have dispersed them; and now they are retreated quietly, from their extraordinary vocation of fighting in the streets, to their ordinary vocation of cozening in their shops.
Tor. [To Raym.]
You see 'tis vain contending with the truth;
Acknowledge what I am.
Raym. You are my king;—would you would be your own!
But, by a fatal fondness, you betray
Your fame and glory to the usurper's bed.
Enjoy the fruits of blood and parricide,
Take your own crown from Leonora's gift,
And hug your father's murderer in your arms!
Enter Queen, Teresa, and Women.
Alph. No more; behold the queen.
Raym. Behold the basilisk of Torrismond,
That kills him with her eyes—I will speak on;
My life is of no farther use to me:
I would have chaffered it before for vengeance;
Now let it go for failing.