Bourdon l'Oise. What—shall the traitor rear His head amid our tribune—and blaspheme Each patriot? shall the hireling slave of faction— 210

St. Just. I am of no one faction. I contend Against all factions.

Tallien. I espouse the cause Of truth. Robespierre on yester morn pronounced Upon his own authority a report. To-day St. Just comes down. St. Just neglects 215 What the Committee orders, and harangues From his own will. O citizens of France I weep for you—I weep for my poor country— I tremble for the cause of Liberty, When individuals shall assume the sway, 220 And with more insolence than kingly pride Rule the Republic.

Billaud Varennes. Shudder, ye representatives of France, Shudder with horror. Henriot commands The marshall'd force of Paris. Henriot, 225 Foul parricide—the sworn ally of Hbert, Denounced by all—upheld by Robespierre. Who spar'd La Valette? who promoted him, Stain'd with the deep dye of nobility? Who to an ex-peer gave the high command? 230 Who screen'd from justice the rapacious thief? Who cast in chains the friends of Liberty? Robespierre, the self-stil'd patriot Robespierre— Robespierre, allied with villain Daubign— Robespierre, the foul arch-tyrant Robespierre. 235

Bourdon l'Oise. He talks of virtue—of morality— Consistent patriot! he Daubign's friend! Henriot's supporter virtuous! preach of virtue, Yet league with villains, for with Robespierre Villains alone ally. Thou art a tyrant! 240 I stile thee tyrant, Robespierre! [Loud applauses.

Robespierre. Take back the name. Ye citizens of France—

[Violent clamour. Cries of—Down with the Tyrant!

Tallien. Oppression falls. The traitor stands appall'd— Guilt's iron fangs engrasp his shrinking soul— He hears assembled France denounce his crimes! 245 He sees the mask torn from his secret sins— He trembles on the precipice of fate. Fall'n guilty tyrant! murder'd by thy rage How many an innocent victim's blood has stain'd Fair freedom's altar! Sylla-like thy hand 250 Mark'd down the virtues, that, thy foes removed, Perpetual Dictator thou might'st reign, And tyrannize o'er France, and call it freedom! Long time in timid guilt the traitor plann'd His fearful wiles—success emboldened sin— 255 And his stretch'd arm had grasp'd the diadem Ere now, but that the coward's heart recoil'd, Lest France awak'd should rouse her from her dream, And call aloud for vengeance. He, like Caesar, With rapid step urged on his bold career, 260 Even to the summit of ambitious power, And deem'd the name of King alone was wanting. Was it for this we hurl'd proud Capet down? Is it for this we wage eternal war Against the tyrant horde of murderers, 265 The crownd cockatrices whose foul venom Infects all Europe? was it then for this We swore to guard our liberty with life, That Robespierre should reign? the spirit of freedom Is not yet sunk so low. The glowing flame 270 That animates each honest Frenchman's heart Not yet extinguish'd. I invoke thy shade, Immortal Brutus! I too wear a dagger; And if the representatives of France, Through fear or favour, should delay the sword 275 Of justice, Tallien emulates thy virtues; Tallien, like Brutus, lifts the avenging arm; Tallien shall save his country. [Violent applauses.

Billaud Varennes. I demand The arrest of all the traitors. Memorable Will be this day for France.

Robespierre. Yes! Memorable 280 This day will be for France—for villains triumph.

Lebas. I will not share in this day's damning guilt. Condemn me too. [Great cry—Down with the Tyrants!

(The two ROBESPIERRES, COUTHON, ST. JUST, and LEBAS are led off.)



ACT III

SCENE CONTINUES.

Collot d'Herbois. Caesar is fall'n! The baneful tree of Java, Whose death-distilling boughs dropt poisonous dew, Is rooted from its base. This worse than Cromwell, The austere, the self-denying Robespierre, Even in this hall, where once with terror mute 5 We listen'd to the hypocrite's harangues, Has heard his doom.

Billaud Varennes. Yet must we not suppose The tyrant will fall tamely. His sworn hireling Henriot, the daring desperate Henriot, Commands the force of Paris. I denounce him. 10

Freron. I denounce Fleuriot too, the mayor of Paris.

Enter DUBOIS CRANC.

Dubois Cranc. Robespierre is rescued. Henriot at the head Of the arm'd force has rescued the fierce tyrant.

Collot d'Herbois. Ring the tocsin—call all the citizens To save their country—never yet has Paris 15 Forsook the representatives of France.

Tallien. It is the hour of danger. I propose This sitting be made permanent. [Loud applauses.

Collot d'Herbois. The National Convention shall remain Firm at its post. 20

Enter a Messenger.

Messenger. Robespierre has reach'd the Commune. They espouse The tyrant's cause. St. Just is up in arms! St. Just—the young ambitious bold St. Just Harangues the mob. The sanguinary Couthon Thirsts for your blood. [Tocsin rings. 25

Tallien. These tyrants are in arms against the law: Outlaw the rebels.

Enter MERLIN OF DOUAY.

Merlin. Health to the representatives of France! I past this moment through the armd force— They ask'd my name—and when they heard a delegate, 30 Swore I was not the friend of France.

Collot d'Herbois. The tyrants threaten us as when they turn'd The cannon's mouth on Brissot.

Enter another Messenger.

Second Messenger. Vivier harangues the Jacobins—the Club Espouse the cause of Robespierre. 35

Enter another Messenger.

Third Messenger. All's lost—the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads The soldiers to his aid.—Already I hear The rattling cannon destined to surround This sacred hall.

Tallien. Why, we will die like men then. The representatives of France dare death, 40 When duty steels their bosoms. [Loud applauses.

Tallien (addressing the galleries). Citizens! France is insulted in her delegates— The majesty of the Republic is insulted— Tyrants are up in arms. An armd force Threats the Convention. The Convention swears 45 To die, or save the country!

[Violent applauses from the galleries.

Citizen (from above). We too swear To die, or save the country. Follow me.

[All the men quit the galleries.

Enter another Messenger.

Fourth Messenger. Henriot is taken! [Loud applauses. Three of your brave soldiers Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants, Or perish in the attempt. As he patroll'd 50 The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob, They seiz'd him. [Applauses.

Billaud Varennes. Let the names of these brave men Live to the future day.

Enter BOURDON L'OISE, sword in hand.

Bourdon l'Oise. I have clear'd the Commune.

[Applauses.

Through the throng I rush'd, Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade 55 Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels Gave way. I met the soldiery—I spake Of the dictator's crimes—of patriots chain'd In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage— Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power. 60 I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts Caught the warm flame. The general shout burst forth, 'Live the Convention—Down with Robespierre!' [Applauses.

(Shouts from without—Down with the Tyrant!)

Tallien. I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds, France shall be saved! her generous sons attached 65 To principles, not persons, spurn the idol They worshipp'd once. Yes, Robespierre shall fall As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant's throne, That the almighty people who have broke 70 On their oppressors' heads the oppressive chain, Will court again their fetters! easier were it To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base, Than force the bonds of slavery upon men Determined to be free! [Applauses. 75

Enter LEGENDRE—a pistol in one hand, keys in the other.

Legendre (flinging down the keys). So—let the mutinous Jacobins meet now In the open air. [Loud applauses. A factious turbulent party Lording it o'er the state since Danton died, And with him the Cordeliers.—A hireling band Of loud-tongued orators controull'd the Club, 80 And bade them bow the knee to Robespierre. Vivier has 'scaped me. Curse his coward heart— This fate-fraught tube of Justice in my hand, I rush'd into the hall. He mark'd mine eye That beam'd its patriot anger, and flash'd full 85 With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng He mingled. I pursued—but stay'd my hand, Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood. [Applauses.

Freron. They took from me my ticket of admission— Expell'd me from their sittings.—Now, forsooth, 90 Humbled and trembling re-insert my name. But Freron enters not the Club again 'Till it be purged of guilt:—'till, purified Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men May breathe the air in safety. [Shouts from without. 95

Barrere. What means this uproar! if the tyrant band Should gain the people once again to rise— We are as dead!

Tallien. And wherefore fear we death? Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, 100 And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death, Brutus must scorn the bugbear.

(Shouts from without—Live the Convention!—Down with the Tyrants!)

Tallien. Hark! again The sounds of honest Freedom!

Enter Deputies from the Sections.

Citizen. Citizens! representatives of France! Hold on your steady course. The men of Paris 105 Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear They will defend the delegates of Freedom.

Tallien. Hear ye this, Colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren? And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts? My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen 110 The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke; I have, as much as lies in mine own arm, Hurl'd down the usurper.—Come death when it will, I have lived long enough. [Shouts without.

Barrere. Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom 115 Of the still evening—harbinger of death, Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale Thunders through Paris—

[Cry without—Down with the Tyrant!

Enter LECOINTRE.

Lecointre. So may eternal justice blast the foes Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood, 120 As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens, Caesar is taken. [Loud and repeated applauses. I marvel not that with such fearless front He braved our vengeance, and with angry eye Scowled round the hall defiance. He relied 125 On Henriot's aid—the Commune's villain friendship, And Henriot's boughten succours. Ye have heard How Henriot rescued him—how with open arms The Commune welcom'd in the rebel tyrant— How Fleuriot aided, and seditious Vivier 130 Stirr'd up the Jacobins. All had been lost— The representatives of France had perish'd— Freedom had sunk beneath the tyrant arm Of this foul parricide, but that her spirit Inspir'd the men of Paris. Henriot call'd 135 'To arms' in vain, whilst Bourdon's patriot voice Breathed eloquence, and o'er the Jacobins Legendre frown'd dismay. The tyrants fled— They reach'd the Htel. We gather'd round—we call'd For vengeance! Long time, obstinate in despair, 140 With knives they hack'd around them. 'Till foreboding The sentence of the law, the clamorous cry Of joyful thousands hailing their destruction, Each sought by suicide to escape the dread Of death. Lebas succeeded. From the window 145 Leapt the younger Robespierre, but his fractur'd limb Forbade to escape. The self-will'd dictator Plunged often the keen knife in his dark breast, Yet impotent to die. He lives all mangled By his own tremulous hand! All gash'd and gored 150 He lives to taste the bitterness of death. Even now they meet their doom. The bloody Couthon, The fierce St. Just, even now attend their tyrant To fall beneath the axe. I saw the torches Flash on their visages a dreadful light— 155 I saw them whilst the black blood roll'd adown Each stern face, even then with dauntless eye Scowl round contemptuous, dying as they lived, Fearless of fate! [Loud and repeated applauses.

Barrere mounts the Tribune. For ever hallowed be this glorious day, 160 When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant Hurl'd from his blood-cemented throne, by the arm Of the almighty people, meets the death He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart 165 Has sunk within me, when the various woes Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain In ghastly numbers—when assembled hordes, Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power, Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, 170 And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with blood The reeking fields of Flanders.—When within, Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth Of treason; and oppression, giant form, Trampling on freedom, left the alternative 175 Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day, When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced The doom of injured France, has faction reared Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd Of mercy—the uxorious dotard Roland, 180 The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire To govern France; and Petion talk'd of virtue, And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honeyed tongue Of some soft Syren wooed us to destruction. We triumphed over these. On the same scaffold 185 Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood, Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons, And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet, And Hbert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand Hurl'd down the altars of the living God, 190 With all the infidel's intolerance. The last worst traitor triumphed—triumph'd long, Secur'd by matchless villainy—by turns Defending and deserting each accomplice As interest prompted. In the goodly soil 195 Of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death On all who slumber'd in its specious shade. He wove the web of treachery. He caught The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, 200 His cool ferocity that persuaded murder, Even whilst it spake of mercy!—never, never Shall this regenerated country wear The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail, And with worse fury urge this new crusade 205 Than savages have known; though the leagued despots Depopulate all Europe, so to pour The accumulated mass upon our coasts, Sublime amid the storm shall France arise, And like the rock amid surrounding waves 210 Repel the rushing ocean.—She shall wield The thunder-bolt of vengeance—she shall blast The despot's pride, and liberate the world!

FINIS



OSORIO

A TRAGEDY[518:1]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

[Not in MSS.]

Osorio, 1797. Remorse. VELEZ = MARQUIS VALDEZ, Father to the two brothers, and Doa Teresa's Guardian. ALBERT = DON ALVAR, the eldest son. OSORIO = DON ORDONIO, the youngest son. FRANCESCO = MONVIEDRO, a Dominican and Inquisitor. MAURICE = ZULIMEZ, the faithful attendant on Alvar. FERDINAND = ISIDORE, a Moresco Chieftain, ostensibly a Christian. NAOMI = NAOMI. MARIA = DOA TERESA, an Orphan Heiress. ALHADRA, wife of FERDINAND = ALHADRA, Wife of Isidore. FAMILIARS OF THE INQUISITION. MOORS, SERVANTS, &C.

Time. The reign of Philip II., just at the close of the civil wars against the Moors, and during the heat of the persecution which raged against them, shortly after the edict which forbad the wearing of Moresco apparel under pain of death.

FOOTNOTES:

[518:1] First published in 1873 by Mr. John Pearson (under the editorship of R. H. Shepherd): included in P. and D. W. 1877-80, and in P. W. 1893.

Four MSS. are (or were) extant, (1) the transcript of the play as sent to Sheridan in 1797 (MS. I); (2) a contemporary transcript sent by Coleridge to a friend (MS. II); (3) a third transcript (the handwriting of a 'legal character') sold at Christie's, March 8, 1895 (MS. III); (4) a copy of Act I in Coleridge's handwriting, which formerly belonged to Thomas Poole, and is now in the British Museum (MS. P.). The text of the present issue follows MS. I. The variants are derived from MSS. I, II as noted by J. Dykes Campbell in P. W. 1893, from a MS. collation (by J. D. Campbell) of MS. III, now published for the first time, and from a fresh collation of MS. P.

Osorio was begun at Stowey in March, 1797. Two and a half Acts were written before June, four and a half Acts before September 13, 1797. A transcript of the play (MS. I) was sent to Drury Lane in October, and rejected, on the score of the 'obscurity of the last three acts', on or about December 1, 1797. See 'Art.' Coleridge, Osorio and Remorse, by J. D. Campbell, Athenaeum, April 8, 1890.

In the reign of Philip II shortly after the civil war against the Moors, and during the heat of the Persecution which raged against them. Maria an orphan of fortune had been espoused to Albert the eldest son of Lord Velez, but he having been supposed dead, is now addressed by Osorio the brother of Albert.

In the character of Osorio I wished to represent a man, who, from his childhood had mistaken constitutional abstinence from vices, for strength of character—thro' his pride duped into guilt, and then endeavouring to shield himself from the reproaches of his own mind by misanthropy.

Don Garcia (supposed dead) and Valdez father of Don Ordoo, and Guardian of Teresa di Monviedro. Don Garcia eldest son of the Marquis di Valdez, supposed dead, having been six years absent, and for the last three without any tidings of him.

Teresa Senora [sic] di Monviedro, an orphan lady, bequeathed by both Parents on their death-bed to the wardship of the Marquis, and betrothed to Don Garcia—Gulinaez a Moorish Chieftain and ostensibly a new Christian—Alhadra his wife. MS. III.

For the Preface of MS. I, vide Appendices of this edition.

LINENOTES:

Osorio A Tragedy—Title] Osorio, a Dramatic Poem MS. II: Osorio, The Sketch of a Tragedy MS. III.



ACT THE FIRST[519:1]

SCENE—The sea shore on the coast of Granada.

VELEZ, MARIA.

Maria. I hold Osorio dear: he is your son, And Albert's brother.

Velez. Love him for himself, Nor make the living wretched for the dead.

Maria. I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Velez! But Heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain 5 Faithful to Albert, be he dead or living.

Velez. Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves; And could my heart's blood give him back to thee I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts! Thy dying father comes upon my soul 10 With that same look, with which he gave thee to me: I held thee in mine arms, a powerless babe, While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty Fix'd her faint eyes on mine: ah, not for this, That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom, 15 And with slow anguish wear away thy life, The victim of a useless constancy. I must not see thee wretched.

Maria. There are woes Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy! If it be wretched with an untired eye 20 To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean; Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock, My hair dishevell'd by the pleasant sea-breeze, To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again All past hours of delight; if it be wretched 25 To watch some bark, and fancy Albert there; To go through each minutest circumstance Of the bless'd meeting, and to frame adventures Most terrible and strange, and hear him tell them: (As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid, 30 Who dress'd her in her buried lover's cloaths, And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft Hung with her lute, and play'd the selfsame tune He used to play, and listen'd to the shadow Herself had made); if this be wretchedness, 35 And if indeed it be a wretched thing To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine That I had died—died, just ere his return; Then see him listening to my constancy; And hover round, as he at midnight ever 40 Sits on my grave and gazes at the moon; Or haply in some more fantastic mood To be in Paradise, and with choice flowers Build up a bower where he and I might dwell, And there to wait his coming! O my sire! 45 My Albert's sire! if this be wretchedness That eats away the life, what were it, think you, If in a most assur'd reality He should return, and see a brother's infant Smile at him from my arms? [Clasping her forehead. O what a thought! 50 'Twas horrible! it pass'd my brain like lightning.

Velez. 'Twere horrible, if but one doubt remain'd The very week he promised his return.

Maria. Ah, what a busy joy was ours—to see him After his three years' travels! tho' that absence 55 His still-expected, never-failing letters Almost endear'd to me! Even then what tumult!

Velez. O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless! Yes, I am old—I have no pleasant dreams— 60 Hectic and unrefresh'd with rest.

Maria (with great tenderness). My father!

Velez. Aye, 'twas the morning thou didst try to cheer me With a fond gaiety. My heart was bursting, And yet I could not tell me, how my sleep Was throng'd with swarthy faces, and I saw 65 The merchant-ship in which my son was captured— Well, well, enough—captured in sight of land— We might almost have seen it from our house-top!

Maria (abruptly). He did not perish there!

Velez (impatiently). Nay, nay—how aptly thou forgett'st a tale 70 Thou ne'er didst wish to learn—my brave Osorio Saw them both founder in the storm that parted Him and the pirate: both the vessels founder'd. Gallant Osorio! [Pauses, then tenderly. O belov'd Maria, Would'st thou best prove thy faith to generous Albert 75 And most delight his spirit, go and make His brother happy, make his agd father Sink to the grave with joy!

Maria. For mercy's sake Press me no more. I have no power to love him! His proud forbidding eye, and his dark brow 80 Chill me, like dew-damps of the unwholesome night. My love, a timorous and tender flower, Closes beneath his touch.

Velez. You wrong him, maiden. You wrong him, by my soul! Nor was it well To character by such unkindly phrases 85 The stir and workings of that love for you Which he has toil'd to smother. 'Twas not well— Nor is it grateful in you to forget His wounds and perilous voyages, and how With an heroic fearlessness of danger 90 He roamed the coast of Afric for your Albert. It was not well—you have moved me even to tears.

Maria. O pardon me, my father! pardon me. It was a foolish and ungrateful speech, A most ungrateful speech! But I am hurried 95 Beyond myself, if I but dream of one Who aims to rival Albert. Were we not Born on one day, like twins of the same parent? Nursed in one cradle? Pardon me, my father! A six years' absence is an heavy thing; 100 Yet still the hope survives——

Velez (looking forwards). Hush—hush! Maria.

Maria. It is Francesco, our Inquisitor; That busy man, gross, ignorant, and cruel!

Enter FRANCESCO and ALHADRA.

Francesco (to Velez). Where is your son, my lord? Oh! here he comes.

Enter OSORIO.

My Lord Osorio! this Moresco woman 105 (Alhadra is her name) asks audience of you.

Osorio. Hail, reverend father! What may be the business?

Francesco. O the old business—a Mohammedan! The officers are in her husband's house, And would have taken him, but that he mention'd 110 Your name, asserting that you were his friend, Aye, and would warrant him a Catholic. But I know well these children of perdition, And all their idle fals[e]hoods to gain time; So should have made the officers proceed, 115 But that this woman with most passionate outcries, (Kneeling and holding forth her infants to me) So work'd upon me, who (you know, my lord!) Have human frailties, and am tender-hearted, That I came with her.

Osorio. You are merciful. [Looking at ALHADRA. 120 I would that I could serve you; but in truth Your face is new to me.

[ALHADRA is about to speak, but is interrupted by

Francesco. Aye, aye—I thought so; And so I said to one of the familiars. A likely story, said I, that Osorio, The gallant nobleman, who fought so bravely 125 Some four years past against these rebel Moors; Working so hard from out the garden of faith To eradicate these weeds detestable; That he should countenance this vile Moresco, Nay, be his friend—and warrant him, forsooth! 130 Well, well, my lord! it is a warning to me; Now I return.

Alhadra. My lord, my husband's name Is Ferdinand: you may remember it. Three years ago—three years this very week— You left him at Almeria.

Francesco (triumphantly). Palpably false! 135 This very week, three years ago, my lord! (You needs must recollect it by your wound) You were at sea, and fought the Moorish fiends Who took and murder'd your poor brother Albert.

[MARIA looks at FRANCESCO with disgust and horror. OSORIO'S appearance to be collected from the speech that follows.

Francesco (to Velez and pointing to Osorio). What? is he ill, my lord? How strange he looks! 140

Velez (angrily). You started on him too abruptly, father! The fate of one, on whom you know he doted.

Osorio (starting as in a sudden agitation). O heavens! I doted! [Then, as if recovering himself. Yes! I DOTED on him!

[OSORIO walks to the end of the stage. VELEZ follows soothing him.

Maria (her eye following them). I do not, cannot love him. Is my heart hard? Is my heart hard? that even now the thought 145 Should force itself upon me—yet I feel it!

Francesco. The drops did start and stand upon his forehead! I will return—in very truth I grieve To have been the occasion. Ho! attend me, woman!

Alhadra (to Maria). O gentle lady, make the father stay 150 Till that my lord recover. I am sure That he will say he is my husband's friend.

Maria. Stay, father, stay—my lord will soon recover.

[OSORIO and VELEZ returning.

Osorio (to Velez as they return). Strange! that this Francesco Should have the power so to distemper me. 155

Velez. Nay, 'twas an amiable weakness, son!

Francesco (to Osorio). My lord, I truly grieve——

Osorio. Tut! name it not. A sudden seizure, father! think not of it. As to this woman's husband, I do know him: I know him well, and that he is a Christian. 160

Francesco. I hope, my lord, your sensibility Doth not prevail.

Osorio. Nay, nay—you know me better. You hear what I have said. But 'tis a trifle. I had something here of more importance.

[Touching his forehead as if in the act of recollection.

Hah! The Count Mondejar, our great general, 165 Writes, that the bishop we were talking of Has sicken'd dangerously.

Francesco. Even so.

Osorio. I must return my answer.

Francesco. When, my lord?

Osorio. To-morrow morning, and shall not forget How bright and strong your zeal for the Catholic faith. 170

Francesco. You are too kind, my lord! You overwhelm me.

Osorio. Nay, say not so. As for this Ferdinand, 'Tis certain that he was a Catholic. What changes may have happen'd in three years, I cannot say, but grant me this, good father! 175 I'll go and sift him: if I find him sound, You'll grant me your authority and name To liberate his house.

Francesco. My lord you have it.

Osorio (to Alhadra). I will attend you home within an hour. Meantime return with us, and take refreshment. 180

Alhadra. Not till my husband's free, I may not do it. I will stay here.

Maria (aside). Who is this Ferdinand?

Velez. Daughter!

Maria. With your permission, my dear lord, I'll loiter a few minutes, and then join you.

[Exeunt VELEZ, FRANCESCO, and OSORIO.

Alhadra. Hah! there he goes. A bitter curse go with him. 185 A scathing curse! [ALHADRA had been betrayed by the warmth of her feelings into an imprudence. She checks herself, yet recollecting MARIA'S manner towards FRANCESCO, says in a shy and distrustful manner You hate him, don't you, lady!

Maria. Nay, fear me not! my heart is sad for you.

Alhadra. These fell Inquisitors, these sons of blood! As I came on, his face so madden'd me That ever and anon I clutch'd my dagger 190 And half unsheathed it.

Maria. Be more calm, I pray you.

Alhadra. And as he stalk'd along the narrow path Close on the mountain's edge, my soul grew eager. 'Twas with hard toil I made myself remember That his foul officers held my babes and husband. 195 To have leapt upon him with a Tyger's plunge And hurl'd him down the ragged precipice, O—it had been most sweet!

Maria. Hush, hush! for shame. Where is your woman's heart?

Alhadra. O gentle lady! You have no skill to guess my many wrongs, 200 Many and strange. Besides I am a Christian, And they do never pardon, 'tis their faith!

Maria. Shame fall on those who so have shown it to thee!

Alhadra. I know that man; 'tis well he knows not me! Five years ago, and he was the prime agent. 205 Five years ago the Holy Brethren seized me.

Maria. What might your crime be?

Alhadra. Solely my complexion. They cast me, then a young and nursing mother, Into a dungeon of their prison house. There was no bed, no fire, no ray of light, 210 No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air, It was a toil to breathe it! I have seen The gaoler's lamp, the moment that he enter'd, How the flame sunk at once down to the socket. O miserable, by that lamp to see 215 My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread Brought daily: for the little wretch was sickly— My rage had dry'd away its natural food! In darkness I remain'd, counting the clocks[528:1] Which haply told me that the blessed sun 220 Was rising on my garden. When I dozed, My infant's moanings mingled with my dreams And wak'd me. If you were a mother, Lady, I should scarce dare to tell you, that its noises And peevish cries so fretted on my brain 225 That I have struck the innocent babe in anger!

Maria. O God! it is too horrible to hear!

Alhadra. What was it then to suffer? 'Tis most right That such as you should hear it. Know you not What Nature makes you mourn, she bids you heal? 230 Great evils ask great passions to redress them, And whirlwinds fitliest scatter pestilence.

Maria. You were at length deliver'd?

Alhadra. Yes, at length I saw the blessed arch of the whole heaven. 'Twas the first time my infant smiled! No more. 235 For if I dwell upon that moment, lady, A fit comes on, which makes me o'er again All I then was, my knees hang loose and drag, And my lip falls with such an ideot laugh That you would start and shudder!

Maria. But your husband? 240

Alhadra. A month's imprisonment would kill him, lady!

Maria. Alas, poor man!

Alhadra. He hath a lion's courage, But is not stern enough for fortitude. Unfit for boisterous times, with gentle heart He worships Nature in the hill and valley, 245 Not knowing what he loves, but loves it all!

[Enter ALBERT disguised as a Moresco, and in Moorish garments.

Albert (not observing Maria and Alhadra). Three weeks have I been loitering here, nor ever Have summon'd up my heart to ask one question, Or stop one peasant passing on this way.

Maria. Know you that man?

Alhadra. His person, not his name. 250 I doubt not, he is some Moresco chieftain Who hides himself among the Alpuxarras. A week has scarcely pass'd since first I saw him; He has new-roof'd the desolate old cottage Where Zagri lived—who dared avow the prophet 255 And died like one of the faithful! There he lives, And a friend with him.

Maria. Does he know his danger So near this seat?

Alhadra. He wears the Moorish robes too, As in defiance of the royal edict.

[ALHADRA advances to ALBERT, who has walked to the back of the stage near the rocks. MARIA drops her veil.

Alhadra. Gallant Moresco! you are near the castle 260 Of the Lord Velez, and hard by does dwell A priest, the creature of the Inquisition.

Albert (retiring). You have mistaken me—I am a Christian.

Alhadra (to Maria). He deems that we are plotting to ensnare him. Speak to him, lady! none can hear you speak 265 And not believe you innocent of guile.

[ALBERT, on hearing this, pauses and turns round.

Maria. If aught enforce you to concealment, sir!

Alhadra. He trembles strangely.

[ALBERT sinks down and hides his face in his garment [robe Remorse].

Maria. See—we have disturb'd him.

[Approaches nearer to him.

I pray you, think us friends—uncowl your face, For you seem faint, and the night-breeze blows healing. 270 I pray you, think us friends!

Albert (raising his head). Calm—very calm; 'Tis all too tranquil for reality! And she spoke to me with her innocent voice. That voice! that innocent voice! She is no traitress! It was a dream, a phantom of my sleep, 275 A lying dream. [He starts up, and abruptly addresses her. Maria! you are not wedded?

Maria (haughtily to Alhadra). Let us retire.

[They advance to the front of the stage.

Alhadra. He is indeed a Christian. Some stray Sir Knight, that falls in love of a sudden.

Maria. What can this mean? How should he know my name? It seems all shadowy.

Alhadra. Here he comes again. 280

Albert (aside). She deems me dead, and yet no mourning garment! Why should my brother's wife wear mourning garments? God of all mercy, make me, make me quiet! [To MARIA. Your pardon, gentle maid! that I disturb'd you. I had just started from a frightful dream. 285

Alhadra. These renegado Moors—how soon they learn The crimes and follies of their Christian tyrants!

Albert. I dreamt I had a friend, on whom I lean'd With blindest trust, and a betrothd maid Whom I was wont to call not mine, but me, 290 For mine own self seem'd nothing, lacking her! This maid so idoliz'd, that trusted friend, Polluted in my absence soul and body! And she with him and he with her conspired To have me murder'd in a wood of the mountains: 295 But by my looks and most impassion'd words I roused the virtues, that are dead in no man, Even in the assassins' hearts. They made their terms, And thank'd me for redeeming them from murder.

Alhadra (to Maria). You are lost in thought. Hear him no more, sweet lady! 300

Maria. From morn to night I am myself a dreamer, And slight things bring on me the idle mood. Well, sir, what happen'd then?

Albert. On a rude rock, A rock, methought, fast by a grove of firs Whose threaddy leaves to the low breathing gale 305 Made a soft sound most like the distant ocean, I stay'd as tho' the hour of death were past, And I were sitting in the world of spirits, For all things seem'd unreal! There I sate. The dews fell clammy, and the night descended, 310 Black, sultry, close! and ere the midnight hour A storm came on, mingling all sounds of fear That woods and sky and mountains seem'd one havock! The second flash of lightning show'd a tree Hard by me, newly-scathed. I rose tumultuous: 315 My soul work'd high: I bared my head to the storm, And with loud voice and clamorous agony Kneeling I pray'd to the great Spirit that made me, Pray'd that Remorse might fasten on their hearts, And cling, with poisonous tooth, inextricable 320 As the gored lion's bite!

Maria. A fearful curse!

Alhadra. But dreamt you not that you return'd and kill'd him? Dreamt you of no revenge?

Albert (his voice trembling, and in tones of deep distress). She would have died, Died in her sins—perchance, by her own hands! And bending o'er her self-inflicted wounds 325 I might have met the evil glance of frenzy And leapt myself into an unblest grave! I pray'd for the punishment that cleanses hearts, For still I loved her!

Alhadra. And you dreamt all this?

Maria. My soul is full of visions, all is wild! 330

Alhadra. There is no room in this heart for puling love-tales. Lady! your servants there seem seeking us.

Maria (lifts up her veil and advances to Albert). Stranger, farewell! I guess not who you are, Nor why you so address'd your tale to me. Your mien is noble, and, I own, perplex'd me 335 With obscure memory of something past, Which still escap'd my efforts, or presented Tricks of a fancy pamper'd with long-wishing. If (as it sometimes happens) our rude startling, While your full heart was shaping out its dream, 340 Drove you to this, your not ungentle wildness, You have my sympathy, and so farewell! But if some undiscover'd wrongs oppress you, And you need strength to drag them into light, The generous Velez, and my Lord Osorio 345 Have arm and will to aid a noble sufferer, Nor shall you want my favourable pleading.

[Exeunt MARIA and ALHADRA.

Albert (alone). 'Tis strange! it cannot be! my Lord Osorio! Her Lord Osorio! Nay, I will not do it. I curs'd him once, and one curse is enough. 350 How sad she look'd and pale! but not like guilt, And her calm tones—sweet as a song of mercy! If the bad spirit retain'd his angel's voice, Hell scarce were hell. And why not innocent? Who meant to murder me might well cheat her. 355 But ere she married him, he had stain'd her honour. Ah! there I am hamper'd. What if this were a lie Fram'd by the assassin? who should tell it him If it were truth? Osorio would not tell him. Yet why one lie? All else, I know, was truth. 360 No start! no jealousy of stirring conscience! And she referr'd to me—fondly, methought! Could she walk here, if that she were a traitress? Here where we play'd together in our childhood? Here where we plighted vows? Where her cold cheek 365 Received my last kiss, when with suppress'd feelings She had fainted in my arms? It cannot be! 'Tis not in nature! I will die, believing That I shall meet her where no evil is, No treachery, no cup dash'd from the lips! 370 I'll haunt this scene no more—live she in peace! Her husband—ay, her husband! May this Angel New-mould his canker'd heart! Assist me, Heaven! That I may pray for my poor guilty brother!

END OF ACT THE FIRST.

FOOTNOTES:

[519:1] For Act I, Scene 1 (ll. 1-118) of Remorse, vide post, pp. 820-3.

[528:1] With lines 219-21 compare Fragments from a Notebook, No. 17, p. 990.

LINENOTES:

[Before 1] ACT THE FIRST (The Portrait and the Picture). Corr. in MS. III.

Scene—The sea shore, &c.] Scene—The Sea shore on the coast of Granada, in the Seigniory of the Marquis Valdez. Valdez Teresa corr. in MS. III. [For Velez, Maria, Osorio, Albert, Francesco, read Valdez, Teresa, Ordonio, Alvar, Isidore throughout, Remorse.

[Before 1] SCENE II. Enter Teresa and Valdez. Remorse. Osorio] Ordoo] corr. in MS. II.

[2] Albert's] Garcia's corr. in MS. III.

[12] mine] my Remorse, 1813.

[29] him] him Remorse.

[40] Or hover round, as he at midnight oft Remorse.

[50] my] my Remorse. Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[51-2] Erased MS. III.

[52-3]

Valdez. A thought? even so! mere thought! an empty thought. The very week he promised his return—

Remorse.

an empty thought That boasts no neighbourhood with Hope or Reason

Corr. in MS. III.

[54-7]

Ter. Was it not then a busy joy? to see him, After those three years' travels! we had no fears— The frequent tidings, the ne'er failing letter, Almost endeared his absence! yet the gladness, The tumult of our joy! What then, if now—

Marginal correction in MS. III, Remorse.

[60] dreams] fancies Remorse.

[61] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[62-8] Erased MS. III.

[62-73]

Vald. The sober truth is all too much for me! I see no sail which brings not to my mind The home-bound bark, in which my son was captured By the Algerine—to perish with his captors!

Ter. Oh no! he did not!

Vald. Captured in sight of land! From yon Hill-point, nay, from our castle watch-tower We might have seen—

Ter. His capture, not his death.

Vald. Alas! how aptly thou forgett'st a tale Thou ne'er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio Saw both the pirate and his prize go down, In the same storm that baffled his own valour, And thus twice snatched a brother from his hopes.

Marginal correction in MS. III, Remorse.

[74] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[76] And most delight his spirit, go, make thou Remorse.

[78] with] in Remorse.

[93] my father] Lord Valdez Remorse.

[96] dream] hear Remorse.

[101-5] Erased MS. III.

Vald. (looking forward). Hush! 'tis Monviedro.

Ter. The Inquisitor—on what new scent of blood?

Enter Monviedro with Alhadra.

Mon. Peace and the truth be with you! Good my Lord. My present need is with your son. We have hit the time. Here comes he! Yes, 'tis he.

Enter from the opposite side Don Ordonio

My Lord Ordonio, this Moresco woman

MS. III, Remorse.

[108] Erased MS. III.

[109] The] Our MS. III.

[108-31]

Mon. My lord, on strong suspicion of relapse To his false creed, so recently abjured, The secret servants of the Inquisition Have seized her husband, and at my command To the supreme tribunal would have led him, But that he made appeal to you, my lord, As surety for his soundness in the faith. Tho' lesson'd by experience what small trust The asseverations of these Moors deserve, Yet still the deference to Ordonio's name, Nor less the wish to prove, with what high honour The Holy Church regards her faithful soldiers, Thus far prevailed with me that—

Ord. Reverend father, I am much beholden to your high opinion, Which so o'erprizes my light services. [then to Alhadra I would that I could serve you; but in truth Your face is new to me.

Mon. My mind foretold me That such would be the event. In truth, Lord Valdez, 'Twas little probable, that Don Ordonio, That your illustrious son, who fought so bravely Some four years since to quell these rebel Moors, Should prove the patron of this infidel! The warranter of a Moresco's faith!

Remorse.

[114] Have learnt by heart their falsehoods to gain time. Corr. in MS. III.

[118-20] who (you know, &c., . . . with her Erased MS. III. The stage-direction (Alhadra here advances towards Ordonio) is inserted at the end of Francesco's speech.

[127-8] om. MS. III.

[133] Is Isidore. (Ordonio starts) Remorse.

[135] Stage-direction (triumphantly) om. Remorse.

[138-9]

You were at sea, and there engaged the pirates, The murderers doubtless of your brother Alvar!

Remorse.

[139] The stage-direction Maria looks, &c., om. Remorse.

[140] Francesco (. . . Osorio) om. Remorse.

[141] Val. You pressed upon him too abruptly father Remorse.

[143] Ord. O heavens! I?—I doted?— Remorse. Stage-directions (starting, &c.), (Then, as, &c.) om. Remorse.

[Before 144] stage direction ends at 'follows' Remorse.

[144] Stage-direction (her eye, &c.) om. Remorse.

[151] Till that] Until Remorse.

Stage-direction before 154 om. Remorse.

[154] Ordonio (as they return to Valdez). Remorse.

[157] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[159] do] do Remorse.

[161] I hope, my lord, your merely human pity MS. III, Remorse.

[162-72] Nay, nay . . . Ferdinand om. Remorse.

[173] was] was Remorse.

[176] Myself I'll sift him Remorse.

[178] [Francesco's speech 'My lord you have it' is thus expanded]:—

Monviedro. Your zeal, my lord, And your late merits in this holy warfare Would authorize an ampler trust—you have it.

Remorse.

[179] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[180] Attributed to Valdez in Remorse.

[184] I'll loiter yet awhile t'enjoy the sea breeze. Remorse.

[186] The stage-direction, Alhadra had been, &c., was interpolated by S. T. C. in MS. III, and 'distrustful' is written 'mistrustful'. It is omitted in Remorse.

[187] The line was originally written:—

Nay, nay, not hate him. I try not to do it;

and in this form it stands in the Poole MS. MSS. II, III have the line as amended, but have also this stage-direction '(perceiving that Alhadra is conscious she has spoken imprudently)'; and MS. II has the word me underlined.

Oh fear not me! my heart is sad for you

Remorse.

[188] In Poole MS. this line was originally—

These wolfish Priests! these lappers-up of Blood.

[192] stalk'd] walk'd Remorse.

[193] on] by Remorse.

[195] Interpolated by S. T. C.

That his vile Slaves, his pitiless officers Held in their custody my babes and husband.

MS. III.

[195] foul officers] familiars Remorse.

[197] ragged] rugged Remorse.

[201] '(ironically)' only in MS. II.

[202] And they do] And Christians Remorse.

[207] Solely my complexion] I was a Moresco Remorse.

[210] There] Where Remorse.

[212-14]

It was a toil to breathe it! When the door, Slow opening at the appointed hour, disclosed One human countenance, the lamp's red flame Cowered as it entered, and at once sank down

Remorse.

[219] the dull bell counting Remorse.

[220] blessed] all-cheering. Remorse.

[221] my] our Remorse.

[222] dreams] slumbers Remorse.

[227] God] Heaven Remorse.

[233] deliver'd] released Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

[237] fit] trance Remorse.

[243] Fearless in act, but feeble in endurance Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

[247-9] MS. III erased: om. Remorse.

[Between 249-50]

Teresa. (starting). This sure must be the man (to ALHADRA) Know you that man?

Corr. in MS. III.

[Between 250 and 263]

Ter. Know you that stately Moor?

Alhad. I know him not: But doubt not he is some Moresco chieftain, Who hides himself among the Alpujarras.

Ter. The Alpujarras? Does he know his danger, So near this seat?

Alhad. He wears the Moorish robes too, As in defiance of the royal edict.

[ALHADRA advances to ALVAR, who has walked to the back of the stage near the rocks. TERESA drops her veil.

Alhad. Gallant Moresco! An inquisitor, Monviedro, of known hatred to our race—

Remorse.

[254-7]

His ends, his motives, why he shrinks from notice And spurns all commune with the Moorish chieftain, Baffles conjecture—

Corr. in MS. III.

Before stage-direction affixed to 259.

Teresa. Ask of him whence he came? if he bear tidings Of any Christian Captive—if he knows—

Corr. in MS. III.

[259] Philip the Second had forbidden under pain of death the Moorish Robes MS. II: Phillip (sic) the Second had prohibited under pain of death all the Moorish customs and garments MS. III.

[262] the creature] a brother Corr. in MS. III.

[263] Albert (retiring)] advancing as if to pass them Corr. in MS. III. Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[264] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[266] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[275-6] om. Remorse.

[277] Stage-direction They advance . . . followed by Alvar Corr. in MS. III: om. Remorse.

[277] Alhadra (with bitter scorn). Corr. in MS. III.

[278-80] om. Remorse.

[Prefixed to 279.] Alhadra walks away to the back of the stage, to the part where Alvar had first placed himself, stoops in the act of taking up a small Picture, looks at it and in dumb show appears as talking to herself. Corr. in MS. III.

[279-80]

Maria. This cannot be the Moor the Peasant spoke of Nor face, nor stature squares with his description.

Alhadra. A painted tablet which he held and por'd on Caught my eye strangely, and as I disturb'd him He hid it hastily within his sash, Yet when he started up (if my sight err'd not) It slipt unnotic'd by him on the Sand.

Corr. in MS. III.

[281] She deems me dead yet wears no mourning garments Remorse.

[283] om. Remorse.

[284] gentle maid] noble dame Remorse.

[286-7] om. Remorse.

[Between 285 and 288]

Ter. Dreams tell but of the past, and yet, 'tis said They prophesy—

Alv. The Past lives o'er again In its effects, and to the guilty spirit, The ever frowning [guilty MS. III] Present is its image.

Ter. Traitress! [guilty MS. III] (then aside) What sudden spell o'er-masters me? Why seeks he me, shunning the Moorish woman.

Corr. in MS. III: Remorse.

[293] Polluted] Dishonour'd MS. III, Remorse. [In MS. III S. T. C. substituted 'Polluted' for 'Dishonoured.']

[294-5]

Fear, following guilt, tempted to blacker guilt, And murderers were suborned against my life

Remorse.

[Affixed to 296] During this speech Alhadra returns, and unobserved by Alvar and Teresa scans the picture, and in dumb show compares it with the countenance of Alvar. Then conceals it in her robe. MS. III.

[300] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[305] threaddy] thready Remorse.

[322] him] them Remorse.

[323] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[324] sins] guilt Remorse.

[330] all is] all as MS. III, Remorse.

[332] MS. III erased.

[332 foll.]

ALHADRA (aside). I must reserve all knowledge of this Table Till I can pierce the mystery of the slander— Form, Look, Features,—the scar below the Temple All, all are Isidore's—and the whole Picture— (then to ALVAR.) On matter of concerning Import . . . . . I would discourse with you: Thou hast ta'en up thy sojourn in the Dell, Where Zagri liv'd—who dar'd avow the Prophet, And died like one of the Faithful—there expect me.

Addition on margin of MS. III.

[332] om. Remorse.

[340] While] Whilst Remorse.

[359] Interpolated by S. T. C. MS. III.

[363] Could she walk here, if she had been a traitress Remorse.



ACT THE SECOND

SCENE THE FIRST.—A wild and mountainous country. OSORIO and FERDINAND are discovered at a little distance from a house, which stands under the brow of a slate rock, the rock covered with vines.

FERDINAND and OSORIO.

Ferdinand. Thrice you have sav'd my life. Once in the battle You gave it me, next rescued me from suicide, When for my follies I was made to wander With mouths to feed, and not a morsel for them. Now, but for you, a dungeon's slimy stones 5 Had pillow'd my snapt joints.

Osorio. Good Ferdinand! Why this to me? It is enough you know it.

Ferdinand. A common trick of gratitude, my lord! Seeking to ease her own full heart.

Osorio. Enough. A debt repay'd ceases to be a debt. 10 You have it in your power to serve me greatly.

Ferdinand. As how, my lord? I pray you name the thing! I would climb up an ice-glaz'd precipice To pluck a weed you fancied.

Osorio (with embarrassment and hesitation). Why—that—lady—

Ferdinand. 'Tis now three years, my lord! since last I saw you. 15 Have you a son, my lord?

Osorio. O miserable! [Aside. Ferdinand! you are a man, and know this world. I told you what I wish'd—now for the truth! She lov'd the man you kill'd!

Ferdinand (looking as suddenly alarmed). You jest, my lord?

Osorio. And till his death is proved, she will not wed me. 20

Ferdinand. You sport with me, my lord?

Osorio. Come, come, this foolery Lives only in thy looks—thy heart disowns it.

Ferdinand. I can bear this, and anything more grievous From you, my lord!—but how can I serve you here?

Osorio. Why, you can mouth set speeches solemnly, 25 Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics.

[Ferdinand. I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.

Osorio. In blunt terms] you can play the sorcerer. She has no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true. Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense: 30 Yet still a tale of spirits works on her. She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive, Shivers, and cannot keep the tears in her eye. Such ones do love the marvellous too well Not to believe it. We will wind her up 35 With a strange music, that she knows not of, With fumes of frankincense, and mummery— Then leave, as one sure token of his death, That portrait, which from off the dead man's neck I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest. 40

Ferdinand (with hesitation). Just now I should have cursed the man who told me You could ask aught, my lord! and I refuse. But this I cannot do.

Osorio. Where lies your scruple?

Ferdinand. That shark Francesco.

Osorio. O! an o'ersiz'd gudgeon! I baited, sir, my hook with a painted mitre, 45 And now I play with him at the end of the line. Well—and what next?

Ferdinand (stammering). Next, next—my lord! You know you told me that the lady loved you, Had loved you with incautious tenderness. That if the young man, her betrothd husband, 50 Return'd, yourself, and she, and an unborn babe, Must perish. Now, my lord! to be a man!

Osorio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the third person). This fellow is a man! he kill'd for hire One whom he knew not—yet has tender scruples.

[Then turning to FERDINAND.

Thy hums and ha's, thy whine and stammering. 55 Pish—fool! thou blunder'st through the devil's book, Spelling thy villany!

Ferdinand. My lord—my lord! I can bear much, yes, very much from you. But there's a point where sufferance is meanness! I am no villain, never kill'd for hire. 60 My gratitude——

Osorio. O! aye, your gratitude! 'Twas a well-sounding word—what have you done with it?

Ferdinand. Who proffers his past favours for my virtue Tries to o'erreach me, is a very sharper, And should not speak of gratitude, my lord! 65 I knew not 'twas your brother!

Osorio (evidently alarmed). And who told you?

Ferdinand. He himself told me.

Osorio. Ha! you talk'd with him? And those, the two Morescoes, that went with you?

Ferdinand. Both fell in a night-brawl at Malaga.

Osorio (in a low voice). My brother!

Ferdinand. Yes, my lord! I could not tell you: 70 I thrust away the thought, it drove me wild. But listen to me now. I pray you, listen!

Osorio. Villain! no more! I'll hear no more of it.

Ferdinand. My lord! it much imports your future safety That you should hear it.

Osorio (turning off from Ferdinand). Am I not a man? 75 'Tis as it should be! Tut—the deed itself Was idle—and these after-pangs still idler!

Ferdinand. We met him in the very place you mention'd, Hard by a grove of firs.

Osorio. Enough! enough!

Ferdinand. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all; 80 In fine, compell'd a parley!

Osorio (sighing as if lost in thought). Albert! Brother!

Ferdinand. He offer'd me his purse.

Osorio. Yes?

Ferdinand. Yes! I spurn'd it. He promis'd us I know not what—in vain! Then with a look and voice which overaw'd me, He said—What mean you, friends? My life is dear. 85 I have a brother and a promised wife Who make life dear to me, and if I fall That brother will roam earth and hell for vengeance. There was a likeness in his face to yours. I ask'd his brother's name; he said, Osorio, 90 Son of Lord Velez! I had well-nigh fainted! At length I said (if that indeed I said it, And that no spirit made my tongue his organ), That woman is now pregnant by that brother, And he the man who sent us to destroy you, 95 He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him, He wore her portrait round his neck—he look'd As he had been made of the rock that propp'd him back; Ay, just as you look now—only less ghastly! At last recovering from his trance, he threw 100 His sword away, and bade us take his life— It was not worth his keeping.

Osorio. And you kill'd him? O blood-hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you! He was the image of the Deity. [A pause. It seizes me—by Hell! I will go on! 105 What? would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee!

[Then suddenly pressing his forehead.

Oh! cold, cold, cold—shot thro' with icy cold!

Ferdinand (aside). Were he alive, he had return'd ere now. The consequence the same, dead thro' his plotting!

Osorio. O this unutterable dying away here, 110 This sickness of the heart! [A pause. What if I went And liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds? Ay! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool! [A pause. What have I done but that which nature destin'd Or the blind elements stirr'd up within me? 115 If good were meant, why were we made these beings? And if not meant——

Ferdinand. How feel you now, my lord?

[OSORIO starts, looks at him wildly, then, after a pause, during which his features are forced into a smile.

Osorio. A gust of the soul! i'faith, it overset me. O 'twas all folly—all! idle as laughter! Now, Ferdinand, I swear that thou shalt aid me. 120

Ferdinand (in a low voice). I'll perish first! Shame on my coward heart, That I must slink away from wickedness Like a cow'd dog!

Osorio. What dost thou mutter of?

Ferdinand. Some of your servants know me, I am certain.

Osorio. There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you. 125

Ferdinand. They'll know my gait. But stay! of late I have watch'd A stranger that lives nigh, still picking weeds, Now in the swamp, now on the walls of the ruin, Now clamb'ring, like a runaway lunatic, Up to the summit of our highest mount. 130 I have watch'd him at it morning-tide and noon, Once in the moonlight. Then I stood so near, I heard him mutt'ring o'er the plant. A wizard! Some gaunt slave, prowling out for dark employments.

Osorio. What may his name be?

Ferdinand. That I cannot tell you. 135 Only Francesco bade an officer Speak in your name, as lord of this domain. So he was question'd, who and what he was. This was his answer: Say to the Lord Osorio, 'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 140

Osorio. A strange reply!

Ferdinand. Aye—all of him is strange. He call'd himself a Christian—yet he wears The Moorish robe, as if he courted death.

Osorio. Where does this wizard live?

Ferdinand (pointing to a distance). You see that brooklet? Trace its course backward thro' a narrow opening 145 It leads you to the place.

Osorio. How shall I know it?

Ferdinand. You can't mistake. It is a small green dale Built all around with high off-sloping hills, And from its shape our peasants aptly call it The Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst, 150 And round its banks tall wood, that branches over And makes a kind of faery forest grow Down in the water. At the further end A puny cataract falls on the lake; And there (a curious sight) you see its shadow 155 For ever curling, like a wreath of smoke, Up through the foliage of those faery trees. His cot stands opposite—you cannot miss it. Some three yards up the hill a mountain ash Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters 160 O'er the new thatch.

Osorio. I shall not fail to find it.

[Exit OSORIO. FERDINAND goes into his house.

Scene changes.

The inside of a cottage, around which flowers and plants of various kinds are seen.

ALBERT and MAURICE.

Albert. He doth believe himself an iron soul, And therefore puts he on an iron outward And those same mock habiliments of strength Hide his own weakness from himself.

Maurice. His weakness! 165 Come, come, speak out! Your brother is a villain! Yet all the wealth, power, influence, which is yours You suffer him to hold!

Albert. Maurice! dear Maurice! That my return involved Osorio's death I trust would give me an unmingl'd pang— 170 Yet bearable. But when I see my father Strewing his scant grey hairs even on the ground Which soon must be his grave; and my Maria, Her husband proved a monster, and her infants His infants—poor Maria!—all would perish, 175 All perish—all!—and I (nay bear with me!) Could not survive the complicated ruin!

Maurice (much affected). Nay, now, if I have distress'd you—you well know, I ne'er will quit your fortunes! true, 'tis tiresome. You are a painter—one of many fancies— 180 You can call up past deeds, and make them live On the blank canvas, and each little herb, That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest, You've learnt to name—but I——

Albert. Well, to the Netherlands We will return, the heroic Prince of Orange 185 Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance Of our past service.

Maurice. Heard you not some steps?

Albert. What if it were my brother coming onward! Not very wisely (but his creature teiz'd me) I sent a most mysterious message to him. 190

Maurice. Would he not know you?

Albert. I unfearingly Trust this disguise. Besides, he thinks me dead; And what the mind believes impossible, The bodily sense is slow to recognize. Add too my youth, when last we saw each other; 195 Manhood has swell'd my chest, and taught my voice A hoarser note.

Maurice. Most true! And Alva's Duke Did not improve it by the unwholesome viands He gave so scantily in that foul dungeon, During our long imprisonment.

Enter OSORIO.

Albert. It is he! 200

Maurice. Make yourself talk; you'll feel the less. Come, speak. How do you find yourself? Speak to me, Albert.

Albert (placing his hand on his heart). A little fluttering here; but more of sorrow!

Osorio. You know my name, perhaps, better than me. I am Osorio, son of the Lord Velez. 205

Albert (groaning aloud). The son of Velez!

[OSORIO walks leisurely round the room, and looks attentively at the plants.

Maurice. Why, what ails you now?

[ALBERT grasps MAURICE'S hand in agitation.

Maurice. How your hand trembles, Albert! Speak! what wish you?

Albert. To fall upon his neck and weep in anguish!

Osorio (returning). All very curious! from a ruin'd abbey Pluck'd in the moonlight. There's a strange power in weeds 210 When a few odd prayers have been mutter'd o'er them. Then they work miracles! I warrant you, There's not a leaf, but underneath it lurks Some serviceable imp. There's one of you, Who sent me a strange message.

Albert. I am he! 215

Osorio. I will speak with you, and by yourself.

[Exit MAURICE.

Osorio. 'He that can bring the dead to life again.' Such was your message, Sir! You are no dullard, But one that strips the outward rind of things!

Albert. 'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds 220 That are all dust and rottenness within. Would'st thou I should strip such?

Osorio. Thou quibbling fool, What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journey'd hither To sport with thee?

Albert. No, no! my lord! to sport Best fits the gaiety of innocence! 225

Osorio (draws back as if stung and embarrassed, then folding his arms). O what a thing is Man! the wisest heart A fool—a fool, that laughs at its own folly, Yet still a fool! [Looks round the cottage. It strikes me you are poor!

Albert. What follows thence?

Osorio. That you would fain be richer. Besides, you do not love the rack, perhaps, 230 Nor a black dungeon, nor a fire of faggots. The Inquisition—hey? You understand me, And you are poor. Now I have wealth and power, Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty. And for this service, all I ask you is 235 That you should serve me—once—for a few hours.

Albert (solemnly). Thou art the son of Velez! Would to Heaven That I could truly and for ever serve thee!

Osorio. The canting scoundrel softens. [Aside. You are my friend! 'He that can bring the dead to life again.' 240 Nay, no defence to me. The holy brethren Believe these calumnies. I know thee better.

[Then with great bitterness.

Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!

Albert. Alas, this hollow mirth! Declare your business!

Osorio. I love a lady, and she would love me 245 But for an idle and fantastic scruple. Have you no servants round the house? no listeners?

[OSORIO steps to the door.

Albert. What! faithless too? false to his angel wife? To such a wife? Well might'st thou look so wan, Ill-starr'd Maria! Wretch! my softer soul 250 Is pass'd away! and I will probe his conscience.

Osorio (returned). In truth this lady loved another man, But he has perish'd.

Albert. What? you kill'd him? hey?

Osorio. I'll dash thee to the earth, if thou but think'st it, Thou slave! thou galley-slave! thou mountebank! 255 I leave thee to the hangman!

Albert. Fare you well! I pity you, Osorio! even to anguish!

[ALBERT retires off the stage.

Osorio (recovering himself). 'Twas ideotcy! I'll tie myself to an aspen, And wear a Fool's Cap. Ho! [Calling after ALBERT.

Albert (returning). Be brief, what wish you?

Osorio. You are deep at bartering—you charge yourself 260 At a round sum. Come, come, I spake unwisely.

Albert. I listen to you.

Osorio. In a sudden tempest Did Albert perish—he, I mean, the lover— The fellow——

Albert. Nay, speak out, 'twill ease your heart To call him villain! Why stand'st thou aghast? 265 Men think it natural to hate their rivals!

Osorio (hesitating and half doubting whether he should proceed). Now till she knows him dead she will not wed me!

Albert (with eager vehemence). Are you not wedded, then? Merciful God! Not wedded to Maria?

Osorio. Why, what ails thee? Art mad or drunk? Why look'st thou upward so? 270 Dost pray to Lucifer, prince of the air?

Albert. Proceed. I shall be silent.

[ALBERT sits, and leaning on the table hides his face.

Osorio. To Maria! Politic wizard! ere you sent that message, You had conn'd your lesson, made yourself proficient In all my fortunes! Hah! you prophesied 275 A golden crop!—well, you have not mistaken— Be faithful to me, and I'll pay thee nobly.

Albert (lifting up his head). Well—and this lady!

Osorio. If we could make her certain of his death, She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her, 280 She tied a little portrait round his neck Entreating him to wear it.

Albert (sighing). Yes! he did so!

Osorio. Why, no! he was afraid of accidents, Of robberies and shipwrecks, and the like. In secrecy he gave it me to keep 285 Till his return.

Albert. What, he was your friend then?

Osorio (wounded and embarrassed). I was his friend.

[A pause.

Now that he gave it me This lady knows not. You are a mighty wizard— Can call this dead man up—he will not come— 290 He is in heaven then!—there you have no influence— Still there are tokens; and your imps may bring you Something he wore about him when he died. And when the smoke of the incense on the altar Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture. 295 What say you now?

Albert (after a long pause). Osorio, I will do it.

Osorio. Delays are dangerous. It shall be to-morrow In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Velez. I will prepare him. Music, too, and incense, All shall be ready. Here is this same picture— 300 And here what you will value more, a purse. Before the dusk——

Albert. I will not fail to meet you.

Osorio. Till next we meet, farewell!

Albert (alone, gazes passionately at the portrait). And I did curse thee? At midnight? on my knees? And I believed Thee perjured, thee polluted, thee a murderess? 305 O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly! Should not thy inarticulate fondnesses, Thy infant loves—should not thy maiden vows, Have come upon my heart? And this sweet image Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment 310 And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble. Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant Who spake pollutions of thee! I am unworthy of thy love, Maria! Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, 315 Which ever smil'd on me! Yet do not scorn me. I lisp'd thy name ere I had learnt my mother's!

Enter MAURICE.

Albert. Maurice! that picture, which I painted for thee, Of my assassination.

Maurice. I'll go fetch it.

Albert. Haste! for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd. 320

[MAURICE goes out.

Albert (gazing at the portrait). Dear image! rescued from a traitor's keeping, I will not now prophane thee, holy image! To a dark trick! That worst bad man shall find A picture which shall wake the hell within him, And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience! 325

END OF ACT THE SECOND.

LINENOTES:

[Before 1]

A wild and mountainous Country. ORDONIO and ISIDORE are discovered, supposed at a little distance from Isidore's house.

Ord. Here we may stop: your house distinct in view, Yet we secured from listeners.

Isid. Now indeed My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock That overbrows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver! Thrice have you sav'd my life.

Remorse.

[6] Had been my bed and pillow Remorse.

[12] And how, my Lord, I pray you to name Remorse.

[14] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[17] this world] mankind Remorse.

[19] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[Between 24 and 26]

Why you can utter with a solemn gesture Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning

Remorse.

[27-8] The words in square brackets are interpolated in MS. I. They are in their place, as here, in MSS. II, III, and in Remorse.

[31] on] upon Remorse.

[34-5]

And such do love the marvellous too well Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy

Remorse.

[Between 40 and 41]

Isid. Will that be a sure sign?

Ord. Beyond suspicion. Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover, (By some base spell he had bewitched her senses.) She whisper'd such dark fears of me forsooth, As made this heart pour gall into my veins, And as she coyly bound it round his neck, She made him promise silence; and now holds The secret of the existence of this portrait Known only to her lover and herself. But I had traced her, stolen unnotic'd on them, And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.

Remorse.

[41] Isid. But now, &c. Remorse.

[44-7] om. Remorse.

[47] Isidore. Why—why, my lord! Remorse.

[Between 50 and 53]

Return'd, yourself, and she, and the honour of both Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruples Than those which being native to the heart, Than those, my lord, which merely being a man—

Remorse.

Stage-direction before 53 om. Remorse.

[55-6]

These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering— Pish, fool! thou blund'rest through the book of guilt

Remorse.

[After 63] Ord. Virtue— Remorse.

[64] Isid. Tries to o'erreach me, &c. Remorse.

[66] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[68] And those, the two Morescoes who were with you? Remorse.

[75] Am not I a man? Remorse.

[81] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[84] which] that Remorse.

[93] his] its Remorse.

[94] That woman is dishonoured Remorse.

[98] him] his Remorse.

[100] last] length Remorse.

[103] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[104] He was his Maker's image undefac'd Remorse.

[106] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[111] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[113] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[117] Isidore. You are disturb'd, my lord Remorse.

[After 117] Ord. (starts). A gust, &c. Remorse.

[121-3] Shame . . . dog om. Remorse.

[Between 125 and 140.]

Isidore. They'll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched A stranger near the ruin in the wood, Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild flowers. I had followed him at distance, seen him scale Its western wall, and by an easier entrance Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked, That mid the chequer work of light and shade, With curious choice he plucked no other flowers, But those on which the moonlight fell: and once I heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard— Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.

Ordonio. Doubtless you question'd him?

Isidore. 'Twas my intention, Having first traced him homeward to his haunt. But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies Lurk everywhere, already (as it seemed) Had given commission to his apt familiar To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning, Was by this trusty agent stopped midway. I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him In that lone place, again concealed myself; Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd, And in your name, as lord of this domain, Proudly he answered, 'Say to the Lord Ordonio,

Remorse.

[143] robe] robes Remorse.

[144] Stage-direction, a] the Remorse.

[147] You cannot err. It is a small green dell Remorse.

[Between 158 and 205:]

Ordonio (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the scene, and then turning round to ISIDORE). Ha! Who lurks there! Have we been overheard? There where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glitters——

Isidore. 'Neath those tall stones, which propping each the other, Form a mock portal with their pointed arch? Pardon my smiles! 'Tis a poor idiot boy, Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about, His weak eyes seeth'd in most unmeaning tears. And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head, And, staring at his bough from morn to sun-set, See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises.

Ordonio. 'Tis well! and now for this same wizard's lair.

Isidore. Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters O'er the old thatch.

Ordonio. I shall not fail to find it.

[Exeunt ORDONIO and ISIDORE.

SCENE II.

The inside of a Cottage, around which flowers and plants of various kinds are seen. Discovers ALVAR, ZULIMEZ and ALHADRA, as on the point of leaving.

Alhadra (addressing ALVAR). Farewell then! and though many thoughts perplex me, Aught evil or ignoble never can I Suspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art, The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need Of such a leader.

Alvar. Nobly minded woman! Long time against oppression have I fought, And for the native liberty of faith Have bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain: Time, as he courses onward, still unrolls The volume of concealment. In the future, As in the optician's glassy cylinder, The indistinguishable blots and colours Of the dim past collect and shape themselves, Upstarting in their own completed image To scare or to reward. I sought the guilty, And what I sought I found: but ere the spear Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose To the Avenger I leave Vengeance, and depart!

Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid, Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee: For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble. Once more, farewell. [Exit ALHADRA. Yes, to the Belgic states We will return. These robes, this stained complexion, Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit. Whate'er befall us, the heroic Maurice Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance Of our past services.

Zulimez. And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours, You let a murderer hold?

Alvar. O faithful Zulimez! That my return involved Ordonio's death, I trust, would give me an unmingled pang, Yet bearable:—but when I see my father Strewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground, Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa— Her husband proved a murderer, and her infants His infants—poor Teresa!—all would perish, All perish—all; and I (nay bear with me) Could not survive the complicated ruin!

Zulimez. Nay now! I have distress'd you—you well know, I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True, 'tis tiresome: You are a painter, one of many fancies! You can call up past deeds, and make them live On the blank canvass! and each little herb, That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest, You have learnt to name— Hark! heard you not some footsteps?

Alvar. What if it were my brother coming onwards? I sent a most mysterious message to him.

Enter ORDONIO.

Alvar. It is he!

Ordonio (to himself as he enters). If I distinguished right her gait and stature, It was the Moorish woman, Isidore's wife, That passed me as I entered. A lit taper, In the night air, doth not more naturally Attract the night flies round it, than a conjuror Draws round him the whole female neighbourhood. [Addressing ALVAR. You know my name, I guess, if not my person.

Remorse.

[For lines 31-46 of Remorse, Act II, Scene II, vide supra Osorio, Act II, Scene II, lines 169-84.]

Stage-direction preceding 162:

Albert and an old servant both drest as Morescoes. Corr. in MS. III.

[162-6] MS. III erased.

[167-8]

And all the wealth, power, influence, which is yours You let a murderer hold!

Albert. O faithful Ali

Corr. in MS. III.

[184-7]

Albert. Yes to the Netherlands We will return, these robes this stained complexion Akin to Falsehood, weigh upon my spirit What e'er befal us, the heroic Maurice Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance Of our past service.

Corr. in MS. III.

[200] After Enter OSORIO.

Be quick Remove these tablets—quick conceal it—

Corr. in MS. III.

[201-3] om. MS. III.

Stage-directions (groaning, &c.) before 206, and (Albert, &c.) after 206 om. Remorse.

[206] Zul. (to Alvar). Why, &c. Remorse.

[208] in anguish] forgiveness Remorse.

[209-10]

Ord. (returning and aloud). Plucked in the moonlight from a ruin'd abbey— Those only, which the pale rays visited! O the unintelligible power of weeds,

Remorse.

[215] Who] Hath Remorse.

[216]

Ord. With you, then, I am to speak.

[Haughtily waving his hand to ZULIMEZ.

And mark you, alone. [Exit ZULIMEZ.

Remorse.

[224] No, no!] O no! Remorse.

[225] fits] suits Remorse.

[Before 226] Ord. (aside). O what a, &c. Remorse.

[228]

Yet still a fool! [Looks round the cottage. You are poor!

Remorse.

[230-3]

The Inquisition, too—You comprehend me? You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power

Remorse.

[235] And for the boon I ask of you but this Remorse.

[237] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[239]

Ord. The slave begins to soften. [aside. You are my friend

Remorse.

[After 242] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[244] Alv. (aside). Alas! &c. Remorse.

[247] Have you no servants here, &c.? Remorse.

[252] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[255-9]

Insolent slave! how dar'dst thou—

[Turns abruptly from ALVAR, and then to himself.

Why! What's this? 'Twas idiocy! I'll tie myself to an aspen, And wear a fool's cap—

Alvar. Fare thee well— I pity thee, Ordonio, even to anguish. [ALVAR is retiring.

Ordonio. Ho! [Calling to ALVAR.

Alvar. Be brief, &c.

Remorse.

[267] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[268] Stage-direction om. Remorse. God] Heaven Remorse.

[270] What, art thou mad? Why look'st thou upward so? Remorse.

[272] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[278] Stage-direction om. Remorse. Well—and this lady! Pray, proceed my lord MS. III. erased.

[282] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[Before and after 287] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[290] this] the Remorse.

[296] Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[297] Ordonio. We'll hazard no delay. Be it to-night, Remorse.

[300-2]

(For I have arranged it—music, altar, incense) All shall be ready. Here is this same picture, And here, what you will value more, a purse. Come early for your magic ceremonies.

Remorse.

[303] Exit ORDONIO. ALVAR (alone, indignantly flings the purse away and gazes, &c. Remorse.

[305] Thee perjur'd, thee a traitress! Thee dishonour'd! Remorse.

[Between 312 and 313:]

Who spake pollution of thee! barter for life This farewell pledge, which with impassioned vow I had sworn that I would grasp—ev'n in my death-pang!

Remorse.

Affixed to 318-19 omitted. (Ali re-enters).

Ali! new Hope, new joy! A life thrills thro' me As if renew'd from Heaven! Bring back that tablet Restor'd to me by a fortunate Star. This picture Of my assassination will I leave As the token of my Fate:— Haste, for I yearn to tell thee what has pass'd [Exit Ali.

MS. III.

[318-20] and stage-directions [Maurice, &c.; (gazing, &c.) om. Remorse.

[321] image] portrait Remorse.

[324] shall] will Remorse.



ACT THE THIRD

SCENE THE FIRST.—A hall of armory, with an altar in the part farthest from the stage.

VELEZ, OSORIO, MARIA.

Maria. Lord Velez! you have ask'd my presence here, And I submit; but (Heaven bear witness for me!) My heart approves it not! 'tis mockery!

[Here ALBERT enters in a sorcerer's robe.

Maria (to Albert). Stranger! I mourn and blush to see you here On such employments! With far other thoughts 5 I left you.

Osorio (aside). Ha! he has been tampering with her!

Albert. O high-soul'd maiden, and more dear to me Than suits the stranger's name, I swear to thee, I will uncover all concealed things! Doubt, but decide not! Stand from off the altar. 10

[Here a strain of music is heard from behind the scenes, from an instrument of glass or steel—the harmonica or Celestina stop, or Clagget's metallic organ.

Albert. With no irreverent voice or uncouth charm I call up the departed. Soul of Albert! Hear our soft suit, and heed my milder spells: So may the gates of Paradise unbarr'd Cease thy swift toils, since haply thou art one 15 Of that innumerable company, Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow, Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion, With noise too vast and constant to be heard— Fitliest unheard! For, O ye numberless 20 And rapid travellers! what ear unstun'd, What sense unmadden'd, might bear up against The rushing of your congregated wings? Even now your living wheel turns o'er my head! Ye, as ye pass, toss high the desart sands, 25 That roar and whiten, like a burst of waters, A sweet appearance, but a dread illusion, To the parch'd caravan that roams by night. And ye build up on the becalmed waves That whirling pillar, which from earth to heaven 30 Stands vast, and moves in blackness. Ye too split The ice-mount, and with fragments many and huge, Tempest the new-thaw'd sea, whose sudden gulphs Suck in, perchance, some Lapland wizard's skiff. Then round and round the whirlpool's marge ye dance, 35 Till from the blue-swoln corse the soul toils out, And joins your mighty army. Soul of Albert! Hear the mild spell and tempt no blacker charm. By sighs unquiet and the sickly pang Of an half dead yet still undying hope, 40 Pass visible before our mortal sense; So shall the Church's cleansing rites be thine, Her knells and masses that redeem the dead.

THE SONG

(Sung behind the scenes, accompanied by the same instrument as before.)

Hear, sweet spirit! hear the spell Lest a blacker charm compel! 45 So shall the midnight breezes swell With thy deep long-lingering knell. And at evening evermore In a chapel on the shore Shall the chanters sad and saintly, 50 Yellow tapers burning faintly, Doleful masses chant for thee, Miserere, Domine!

Hark! the cadence dies away On the quiet moonlight sea, 55 The boatmen rest their oars, and say, Miserere, Domine! [A long pause.

Osorio. This was too melancholy, father!

Velez. Nay! My Albert lov'd sad music from a child. Once he was lost; and after weary search 60 We found him in an open place of the wood, To which spot he had follow'd a blind boy Who breathed into a pipe of sycamore Some strangely-moving notes, and these, he said, Were taught him in a dream; him we first saw 65 Stretch'd on the broad top of a sunny heath-bank; And, lower down, poor Albert fast asleep, His head upon the blind boy's dog—it pleased me To mark, how he had fasten'd round the pipe A silver toy, his grandmother had given him. 70 Methinks I see him now, as he then look'd. His infant dress was grown too short for him, Yet still he wore it.

Albert (aside). My tears must not flow— I must not clasp his knees, and cry, my father!

Osorio. The innocent obey nor charm nor spell. 75 My brother is in heaven. Thou sainted spirit Burst on our sight, a passing visitant! Once more to hear thy voice, once more to see thee, O 'twere a joy to me.

Albert (abruptly). A joy to thee! What if thou heard'st him now? What if his spirit 80 Re-enter'd its cold corse, and came upon thee, With many a stab from many a murderer's poniard? What if, his steadfast eye still beaming pity And brother's love, he turn'd his head aside, Lest he should look at thee, and with one look 85 Hurl thee beyond all power of penitence?

Velez. These are unholy fancies!

Osorio (struggling with his feelings). Yes, my father! He is in heaven!

Albert (still to Osorio). But what if this same brother Had lived even so, that at his dying hour The name of heaven would have convuls'd his face 90 More than the death-pang?

Maria. Idly-prating man! He was most virtuous.

Albert (still to Osorio). What if his very virtues Had pamper'd his swoln heart, and made him proud? And what if pride had duped him into guilt, Yet still he stalk'd, a self-created God, 95 Not very bold, but excellently cunning; And one that at his mother's looking-glass, Would force his features to a frowning sternness? Young lord! I tell thee, that there are such beings,— Yea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damn'd, 100 To see these most proud men, that loathe mankind, At every stir and buz of coward conscience, Trick, cant, and lie, most whining hypocrites! Away! away! Now let me hear more music. [Music as before.

Albert. The spell is mutter'd—come, thou wandering shape, 105 Who own'st no master in an eye of flesh, Whate'er be this man's doom, fair be it or foul, If he be dead, come quick, and bring with thee That which he grasp'd in death; and if he lives, Some token of his obscure perilous life. 110

[The whole orchestra crashes into one chorus.

Wandering demon! hear the spell Lest a blacker charm compel!

[A thunder-clap. The incense on the altar takes fire suddenly.

Maria. This is some trick—I know, it is a trick. Yet my weak fancy, and these bodily creepings, Would fain give substance to the shadow.[555:1]

Velez (advancing to the altar). Hah! 115 A picture!

Maria. O God! my picture?

Albert (gazing at Maria with wild impatient distressfulness). Pale—pale—deadly pale!

Maria. He grasp'd it when he died.

[She swoons. ALBERT rushes to her and supports her.

Albert. My love! my wife! Pale—pale, and cold! My love! my wife! Maria!

[VELEZ is at the altar. OSORIO remains near him in a state of stupor.

Osorio (rousing himself). Where am I? 'Twas a lazy chilliness. 120

Velez (takes and conceals the picture in his robe). This way, my son! She must not see this picture. Go, call the attendants! Life will soon ebb back!

[VELEZ and OSORIO leave the stage.

Albert. Her pulse doth flutter. Maria! my Maria!

Maria (recovering—looks round). I heard a voice—but often in my dreams, I hear that voice, and wake; and try, and try, 125 To hear it waking—but I never could! And 'tis so now—even so! Well, he is dead, Murder'd perhaps! and I am faint, and feel As if it were no painful thing to die!

Albert (eagerly). Believe it not, sweet maid! believe it not, 130 Beloved woman! 'Twas a low imposture Framed by a guilty wretch.

Maria. Ha! who art thou?

Albert (exceedingly agitated). My heart bursts over thee!

Maria. Didst thou murder him? And dost thou now repent? Poor troubled man! I do forgive thee, and may Heaven forgive thee! 135

Albert (aside). Let me be gone.

Maria. If thou didst murder him, His spirit ever, at the throne of God, Asks mercy for thee, prays for mercy for thee, With tears in heaven!

Albert. Albert was not murder'd. Your foster-mother——

Maria. And doth she know aught? 140

Albert. She knows not aught—but haste thou to her cottage To-morrow early—bring Lord Velez with thee. There ye must meet me—but your servants come.

Maria (wildly). Nay—nay—but tell me!

[A pause—then presses her forehead.

Ah! 'tis lost again! This dead confused pain! [A pause—she gazes at ALBERT. Mysterious man! 145 Methinks, I cannot fear thee—for thine eye Doth swim with pity—I will lean on thee.

[Exeunt ALBERT and MARIA.

Re-enter VELEZ and OSORIO.

Velez (sportively). You shall not see the picture, till you own it.[556:1]

Osorio. This mirth and raillery, sir! beseem your age. I am content to be more serious.[556:2] 150

Velez. Do you think I did not scent it from the first? An excellent scheme, and excellently managed. 'Twill blow away her doubts, and now she'll wed you, I'faith, the likeness is most admirable. I saw the trick—yet these old eyes grew dimmer 155 With very foolish tears, it look'd so like him!

Osorio. Where should I get her portrait?

Velez. Get her portrait? Portrait? You mean the picture! At the painter's— No difficulty then—but that you lit upon A fellow that could play the sorcerer, 160 With such a grace and terrible majesty, It was most rare good fortune. And how deeply He seem'd to suffer when Maria swoon'd, And half made love to her! I suppose you'll ask me Why did he so?

Osorio (with deep tones of suppressed agitation). Ay, wherefore did he so? 165

Velez. Because you bade him—and an excellent thought! A mighty man, and gentle as he is mighty. He'll wind into her confidence, and rout A host of scruples—come, confess, Osorio!

Osorio. You pierce through mysteries with a lynx's eye, 170 In this, your merry mood! you see it all!

Velez. Why, no!—not all. I have not yet discover'd, At least, not wholly, what his speeches meant. Pride and hypocrisy, and guilt and cunning— Then when he fix'd his obstinate eye on you, 175 And you pretended to look strange and tremble. Why—why—what ails you now?

Osorio (with a stupid stare). Me? why? what ails me? A pricking of the blood—it might have happen'd At any other time. Why scan you me?

Velez (clapping him on the shoulder). 'Twon't do—'twon't do—I have lived too long in the world. 180 His speech about the corse and stabs and murderers, Had reference to the assassins in the picture: That I made out.

Osorio (with a frantic eagerness). Assassins! what assassins!

Velez. Well-acted, on my life! Your curiosity Runs open-mouth'd, ravenous as winter wolf. 185 I dare not stand in its way. [He shows OSORIO the picture.

Osorio. Dup'd—dup'd—dup'd! That villain Ferdinand! (aside).

Velez. Dup'd—dup'd—not I. As he swept by me——

Osorio. Ha! what did he say?

Velez. He caught his garment up and hid his face. It seem'd as he were struggling to suppress—— 190

Osorio. A laugh! a laugh! O hell! he laughs at me!

Velez. It heaved his chest more like a violent sob.

Osorio. A choking laugh! [A pause—then very wildly. I tell thee, my dear father! I am most glad of this!

Velez. Glad!—aye—to be sure.

Osorio. I was benumb'd, and stagger'd up and down 195 Thro' darkness without light—dark—dark—dark— And every inch of this my flesh did feel As if a cold toad touch'd it! Now 'tis sunshine, And the blood dances freely thro' its channels!

[He turns off—then (to himself) mimicking FERDINAND'S manner.[558:1]

'A common trick of gratitude, my lord! 200 Old Gratitude! a dagger would dissect His own full heart,' 'twere good to see its colour!

Velez (looking intently at the picture). Calm, yet commanding! how he bares his breast, Yet still they stand with dim uncertain looks, As penitence had run before their crime. 205 A crime too black for aught to follow it Save blasphemous despair! See this man's face— With what a difficult toil he drags his soul To do the deed. [Then to OSORIO. O this was delicate flattery To poor Maria, and I love thee for it! 210

Osorio (in a slow voice with a reasoning laugh). Love—love—and then we hate—and what? and wherefore? Hatred and love. Strange things! both strange alike! What if one reptile sting another reptile, Where is the crime? The goodly face of Nature Hath one trail less of slimy filth upon it. 215 Are we not all predestined rottenness And cold dishonor? Grant it that this hand Had given a morsel to the hungry worms Somewhat too early. Where's the guilt of this? That this must needs bring on the idiotcy 220 Of moist-eyed penitence—'tis like a dream!

Velez. Wild talk, my child! but thy excess of feeling

[Turns off from OSORIO.

Sometimes, I fear, it will unhinge his brain!

Osorio. I kill a man and lay him in the sun, And in a month there swarm from his dead body 225 A thousand—nay, ten thousand sentient beings In place of that one man whom I had kill'd. Now who shall tell me, that each one and all, Of these ten thousand lives, is not as happy As that one life, which being shov'd aside 230 Made room for these ten thousand?[559:1]

Velez. Wild as madness!

Osorio. Come, father! you have taught me to be merry, And merrily we'll pore upon this picture.

Velez (holding the picture before Osorio). That Moor, who points his sword at Albert's breast——

Osorio (abruptly). A tender-hearted, scrupulous, grateful villain, 235 Whom I will strangle!

Velez. And these other two——

Osorio. Dead—dead already!—what care I for the dead?

Velez. The heat of brain and your too strong affection For Albert, fighting with your other passion, Unsettle you, and give reality 240 To these your own contrivings.

Osorio. Is it so? You see through all things with your penetration. Now I am calm. How fares it with Maria? My heart doth ache to see her.

Velez. Nay—defer it! Defer it, dear Osorio! I will go. [Exit VELEZ. 245

Osorio. A rim of the sun lies yet upon the sea— And now 'tis gone! all may be done this night!

Enter a Servant.

Osorio. There is a man, once a Moresco chieftain, One Ferdinand.

Servant. He lives in the Alpuxarras, Beneath a slate rock.

Osorio. Slate rock?

Servant. Yes, my lord! 250 If you had seen it, you must have remember'd The flight of steps his children had worn up it With often clambering.

Osorio. Well, it may be so.

Servant. Why, now I think on't, at this time of the year 'Tis hid by vines.

Osorio (in a muttering voice). The cavern—aye—the cavern. He cannot fail to find it. [To the Servant. 255 Where art going? You must deliver to this Ferdinand A letter. Stay till I have written it. [Exit the Servant.

Osorio (alone). The tongue can't stir when the mouth is fill'd with mould. A little earth stops up most eloquent mouths, 260 And a square stone with a few pious texts Cut neatly on it, keeps the earth down tight.

Scene changes to the space before the castle.

FRANCESCO and a Spy.

Francesco. Yes! yes! I have the key of all their lives. If a man fears me, he is forced to love me. And if I can, and do not ruin him, 265 He is fast bound to serve and honour me!