asked him how I had offended him?
He answered nothing, but with sighs and groans;
So, restless, past the night; and, at the dawn,
Leapt from the bed, and vanished.

_Ter._ Sighs and groans,
Paleness and trembling, all are signs of love;
He only fears to make you share his sorrows.

_Leo._ I wish 'twere so; but love still doubts the worst;
My heavy heart, the prophetess of woes,
Forebodes some ill at hand: to sooth my sadness,
Sing me the song, which poor Olympia made,
When false Bireno left her.

SONG.

_Farewell, ungrateful traitor!
Farewell, my perjured swain!
Let never injured creature
Believe a man again.
The pleasure of possessing
Surpasses all expressing,
But 'tis too short a blessing,
And love too long a pain._

_'Tis easy to deceive us,
In pity of your pain;
But when we love, you leave us,
To rail at you in vain.
Before we have descried it,
There is no bliss beside it;
But she, that once has tried it,
Will never love again._

_The passion you pretended,
Was only to obtain;
But when the charm is ended,
The charmer you disdain.
Your love by ours we measure,
Till we have lost our treasure;
But dying is a pleasure,
When living is a pain._

_Re-enter_ TORRISMOND.

_Tor._ Still she is here, and still I cannot speak;
But wander, like some discontented ghost,
That oft appears, but is forbid to talk. [_Going again._

_Leo._ O, Torrismond, if you resolve my death,
You need no more, but to go hence again;
Will you not speak?

_Tor._ I cannot.

_Leo._ Speak! oh, speak!
Your anger would be kinder than your silence.

_Tor._ Oh!--

_Leo._ Do not sigh, or tell me why you sigh.

_Tor._ Why do I live, ye powers!

_Leo._ Why do I live to hear you speak that word?
Some black-mouthed villain has defamed my virtue.

_Tor._ No, no! Pray, let me go.

_Leo._ [_Kneeling._] You shall not go!
By all the pleasures of our nuptial bed,
If ever I was loved, though now I'm not,
By these true tears, which, from my wounded heart,
Bleed at my eyes--

_Tor._ Rise.

_Leo._ I will never rise;
I cannot chuse a better place to die.

_Tor._ Oh! I would speak, but cannot.

_Leo._ [_Rising._]
Guilt keeps you silent then; you love me not:
What have I done, ye powers, what have I done,
To see my youth, my beauty, and my love,
No sooner gained, but slighted and betrayed;
And, like a rose, just gathered from the stalk,