Leo. Bertran, stay. [Aside.] This may produce some dismal consequence To him, whom dearer than my life I love. [To him.] Have I not managed my contrivance well, To try your love, and make you doubt of mine?

Bert. Then, was it but a trial? 
Methinks I start as from some dreadful dream,
And often ask myself if yet I wake.—­
This turn’s too quick to be without design;
I’ll sound the bottom of’t, ere I believe. [Aside.

Leo. I find your love, and would reward it too,
But anxious fears solicit my weak breast. 
I fear my people’s faith;
That hot-mouthed beast, that bears against the curb,
Hard to be broken even by lawful kings,
But harder by usurpers. 
Judge then, my lord, with all these cares opprest,
If I can think of love.

Bert. Believe me, madam,
These jealousies, however large they spread,
Have but one root, the old imprisoned king;
Whose lenity first pleased the gaping crowd;
But when long tried, and found supinely good,
Like AEsop’s Log, they leapt upon his back. 
Your father knew them well; and, when he mounted,
He reined them strongly, and he spurred them hard: 
And, but he durst not do it all at once,
He had not left alive this patient saint,
This anvil of affronts, but sent him hence
To hold a peaceful branch of palm above,
And hymn it in the quire.

Leo. You’ve hit upon the very string, which, touched.  Echoes the sound, and jars within my soul;—­ There lies my grief.

Bert. So long as there’s a head, Thither will all the mounting spirits fly; Lop that but off, and then—­

Leo. My virtue shrinks from such an horrid act.

Bert. This ’tis to have a virtue out of season. 
Mercy is good, a very good dull virtue;
But kings mistake its timing, and are mild,
When manly courage bids them be severe: 
Better be cruel once, than anxious ever. 
Remove this threatening danger from your crown,
And then securely take the man you love.

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.