I am that luckless maiden whom you love.

III:2:71 ALAR.
You could lie down and die. Who speaks of death?
There is no absolution for self-murder.
Why 'tis the greater sin of the two. There is
More peril in't. What, sleep upon your post
Because you are wearied? No, we must spy on
And watch occasions. Even now they are ripe.
I feel a turbulent throbbing at my heart
Will end in action: for there spiritual tumults
Herald great deeds.

III:2:72 SOL.
It is the church's scheme
Ever to lengthen suits.

III:2:73 ALAR.
The church?

III:2:74 SOL.
Ossana
Leans much to Rome.

III:2:75 ALAR.
And how concerns us that?

III:2:76 SOL.
His Grace spoke to the Bishop, you must know?

III:2:77 ALAR.
Ah, yes! his Grace, the church, it is our friend.
And truly should be so. It gave our griefs,
And it should bear their balm.

III:2:78 SOL.
Hast pardoned me
That I was querulous? But lovers crossed
Wrangle with those that love them, as it were,
To spite affection.

III:2:79 ALAR.
We are bound together
As the twin powers of the storm. Very love
Now makes me callous. The great bond is sealed;
Look bright; if gloomy, mortgage future bliss
For present comfort. Trust me 'tis good 'surance.
I'll to the King.

[Exeunt both.]

SCENE 3

A Street in Burgos.

[Enter the COUNT OF LEON, followed by ORAN.]

III:3:1 LEON.
He has been sighing like a Sybarite
These six weeks past, and now he sends to me
To hire my bravo. Well, that smacks of manhood.
He'll pierce at least one heart, if not the right one.
Murder and marriage! which the greater crime
A schoolman may decide. All arts exhausted,
His death alone remains. A clumsy course.
I care not. Truth, I ha