[314]Alvar (his voice trembling, and in tones of deep distress).She would, &c.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Alvar (his voice trembling, and in tones of deep distress).She would, &c.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[331]wildness] kindnessEditions 1, 2, 3.
wildness] kindnessEditions 1, 2, 3.
[338]my]myEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
my]myEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[339]Her]HerEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Her]HerEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[348]him]himEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
him]himEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[350]know]knowEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
know]knowEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[352]me]meEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
me]meEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[362]husband]husbandEditions 2, 3, 1829.
husband]husbandEditions 2, 3, 1829.
After364End of the Act First.Editions 1, 2, 3.
After364End of the Act First.Editions 1, 2, 3.
A wild and mountainous country.OrdonioandIsidoreare discovered, supposed at a little distance fromIsidore'shouse.
Ordonio.Here we may stop: your house distinct in view,Yet we secured from listeners.Isidore.Now indeed[835]My house! and it looks cheerful as the clustersBasking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock,That over-brows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!5Thrice have you saved my life. Once in the battleYou gave it me: next rescued me from suicideWhen 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 stones10Had been my bed and pillow.Ordonio.Good Isidore!Why this to me? It is enough, you know it.Isidore.A common trick of gratitude, my lord,Seeking to ease her own full heart——Ordonio.Enough!A debt repaid ceases to be a debt.15You have it in your power to serve me greatly.Isidore.And how, my lord? I pray you to name the thing.I would climb up an ice-glazed precipiceTo pluck a weed you fancied!Ordonio.Why—that—Lady—Isidore.'Tis now three years, my lord, since last I saw you:20Have you a son, my lord?Ordonio.O miserable—[Aside.Isidore! you are a man, and know mankind.I told you what I wished—now for the truth—She loved the man you kill'd.Isidore.You jest, my lord?Ordonio.And till his death is proved she will not wed me.25Isidore.You sport with me, my lord?Ordonio.Come, come! this fooleryLives only in thy looks, thy heart disowns it!Isidore.I can bear this, and any thing more grievousFrom you, my lord—but how can I serve you here?Ordonio.Why, you can utter with a solemn gesture30Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning,Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics—Isidore.I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.Ordonio.In blunt terms, you can play the sorcerer.She hath no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true:35[836]Her lover schooled her in some newer nonsense!Yet still a tale of spirits works upon her.She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive,Shivers, and can not keep the tears in her eye:And such do love the marvellous too well40Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancyWith 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 neck45I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest.Isidore.Will that be a sure sign?Ordonio.Beyond suspicion.Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover,(By some base spell he had bewitched her senses)She whispered such dark fears of me forsooth,50As made this heart pour gall into my veins.And as she coyly bound it round his neckShe made him promise silence; and now holdsThe secret of the existence of this portraitKnown only to her lover and herself.55But I had traced her, stolen unnotic'd on them,And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.Isidore.But now I should have cursed the man who told meYou could ask aught, my lord, and I refuse—But this I can not do.Ordonio.Where lies your scruple?60Isidore.Why—why, my lord!You know you told me that the lady lov'd you,Had loved you with incautious tenderness;That if the young man, her betrothéd husband,Returned, yourself, and she, and the honour of both65Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruplesThan those which being native to the heart,Than those, my lord, which merely being a man—Ordonio.This fellow is a Man—he killed for hireOne whom he knew not, yet has tender scruples!70[Then turning toIsidore.[837]These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering—Pish, fool! thou blunder'st through the book of guilt,Spelling thy villainy.Isidore.My lord—my lord,I can bear much—yes, very much from you!But there's a point where sufferance is meanness:75I am no villain—never kill'd for hire—My gratitude——Ordonio.O aye—your gratitude!'Twas a well-sounding word—what have you done with it?Isidore.Who proffers his past favours for my virtue—Ordonio.Virtue——Isidore.Tries to o'erreach me—is a very sharper,80And should not speak of gratitude, my lord.I knew not 'twas your brother!Ordonio.And who told you?Isidore.He himself told me.Ordonio.Ha! you talk'd with him!And those, the two Morescoes who were with you?Isidore.Both fell in a night brawl at Malaga.85Ordonio (in a low voice).My brother—Isidore.Yes, my lord, I could not tell you!I thrust away the thought—it drove me wild.But listen to me now—I pray you listen——Ordonio.Villain! no more. I'll hear no more of it.Isidore.My lord, it much imports your future safety90That you should hear it.Ordonio (turning off from Isidore).Am not I a man!'Tis as it should be! tut—the deed itselfWas idle, and these after-pangs still idler!Isidore.We met him in the very place you mentioned.Hard by a grove of firs—Ordonio.Enough—enough—95Isidore.He fought us valiantly, and wounded all;In fine, compelled a parley.Ordonio.Alvar! brother!Isidore.He offered me his purse—Ordonio.Yes?
Ordonio.Here we may stop: your house distinct in view,Yet we secured from listeners.
Isidore.Now indeed[835]My house! and it looks cheerful as the clustersBasking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock,That over-brows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!5Thrice have you saved my life. Once in the battleYou gave it me: next rescued me from suicideWhen 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 stones10Had been my bed and pillow.
Ordonio.Good Isidore!Why this to me? It is enough, you know it.
Isidore.A common trick of gratitude, my lord,Seeking to ease her own full heart——
Ordonio.Enough!A debt repaid ceases to be a debt.15You have it in your power to serve me greatly.
Isidore.And how, my lord? I pray you to name the thing.I would climb up an ice-glazed precipiceTo pluck a weed you fancied!
Ordonio.Why—that—Lady—
Isidore.'Tis now three years, my lord, since last I saw you:20Have you a son, my lord?
Ordonio.O miserable—[Aside.Isidore! you are a man, and know mankind.I told you what I wished—now for the truth—She loved the man you kill'd.
Isidore.You jest, my lord?
Ordonio.And till his death is proved she will not wed me.25
Isidore.You sport with me, my lord?
Ordonio.Come, come! this fooleryLives only in thy looks, thy heart disowns it!
Isidore.I can bear this, and any thing more grievousFrom you, my lord—but how can I serve you here?
Ordonio.Why, you can utter with a solemn gesture30Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning,Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics—
Isidore.I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.
Ordonio.In blunt terms, you can play the sorcerer.She hath no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true:35[836]Her lover schooled her in some newer nonsense!Yet still a tale of spirits works upon her.She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive,Shivers, and can not keep the tears in her eye:And such do love the marvellous too well40Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancyWith 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 neck45I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest.
Isidore.Will that be a sure sign?
Ordonio.Beyond suspicion.Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover,(By some base spell he had bewitched her senses)She whispered such dark fears of me forsooth,50As made this heart pour gall into my veins.And as she coyly bound it round his neckShe made him promise silence; and now holdsThe secret of the existence of this portraitKnown only to her lover and herself.55But I had traced her, stolen unnotic'd on them,And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.
Isidore.But now I should have cursed the man who told meYou could ask aught, my lord, and I refuse—But this I can not do.
Ordonio.Where lies your scruple?60
Isidore.Why—why, my lord!You know you told me that the lady lov'd you,Had loved you with incautious tenderness;That if the young man, her betrothéd husband,Returned, yourself, and she, and the honour of both65Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruplesThan those which being native to the heart,Than those, my lord, which merely being a man—
Ordonio.This fellow is a Man—he killed for hireOne whom he knew not, yet has tender scruples!70[Then turning toIsidore.[837]These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering—Pish, fool! thou blunder'st through the book of guilt,Spelling thy villainy.
Isidore.My lord—my lord,I can bear much—yes, very much from you!But there's a point where sufferance is meanness:75I am no villain—never kill'd for hire—My gratitude——
Ordonio.O aye—your gratitude!'Twas a well-sounding word—what have you done with it?
Isidore.Who proffers his past favours for my virtue—
Ordonio.Virtue——
Isidore.Tries to o'erreach me—is a very sharper,80And should not speak of gratitude, my lord.I knew not 'twas your brother!
Ordonio.And who told you?
Isidore.He himself told me.
Ordonio.Ha! you talk'd with him!And those, the two Morescoes who were with you?
Isidore.Both fell in a night brawl at Malaga.85
Ordonio (in a low voice).My brother—
Isidore.Yes, my lord, I could not tell you!I thrust away the thought—it drove me wild.But listen to me now—I pray you listen——
Ordonio.Villain! no more. I'll hear no more of it.
Isidore.My lord, it much imports your future safety90That you should hear it.
Ordonio (turning off from Isidore).Am not I a man!'Tis as it should be! tut—the deed itselfWas idle, and these after-pangs still idler!
Isidore.We met him in the very place you mentioned.Hard by a grove of firs—
Ordonio.Enough—enough—95
Isidore.He fought us valiantly, and wounded all;In fine, compelled a parley.
Ordonio.Alvar! brother!
Isidore.He offered me his purse—
Ordonio.Yes?
Isidore.Yes—I spurned it.—He promised us I know not what—in vain!Then with a look and voice that overawed me,100He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear: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;105I asked his brother's name: he said—Ordonio,Son of Lord Valdez! I had well nigh fainted.At length I said (if that indeed I said it,And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ,)That woman is dishonoured by that brother,110And he the man who sent us to destroy you.He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told himHe wore her portrait round his neck. He look'dAs he had been made of the rock that propt his back—Aye, just as you look now—only less ghastly!115At length recovering from his trance, he threwHis sword away, and bade us take his life,It was not worth his keeping.Ordonio.And you kill'd him?Oh blood hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you!He was his Maker's Image undefac'd!120It seizes me—by Hell I will go on!What—would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee!Oh cold—cold—cold! shot through with icy cold!Isidore (aside).Were he alive he had returned ere now.The consequence the same—dead through his plotting!125Ordonio.O this unutterable dying away—here—This sickness of the heart!What if I wentAnd liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?Aye! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!What have I done but that which nature destined,130Or the blind elements stirred up within me?If good were meant, why were we made these beings?And if not meant—
Isidore.Yes—I spurned it.—He promised us I know not what—in vain!Then with a look and voice that overawed me,100He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear: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;105I asked his brother's name: he said—Ordonio,Son of Lord Valdez! I had well nigh fainted.At length I said (if that indeed I said it,And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ,)That woman is dishonoured by that brother,110And he the man who sent us to destroy you.He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told himHe wore her portrait round his neck. He look'dAs he had been made of the rock that propt his back—Aye, just as you look now—only less ghastly!115At length recovering from his trance, he threwHis sword away, and bade us take his life,It was not worth his keeping.
Ordonio.And you kill'd him?Oh blood hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you!He was his Maker's Image undefac'd!120It seizes me—by Hell I will go on!What—would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee!Oh cold—cold—cold! shot through with icy cold!
Isidore (aside).Were he alive he had returned ere now.The consequence the same—dead through his plotting!125
Ordonio.O this unutterable dying away—here—This sickness of the heart!What if I wentAnd liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?Aye! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!What have I done but that which nature destined,130Or the blind elements stirred up within me?If good were meant, why were we made these beings?And if not meant—
Isidore.You are disturbed, my lord!Ordonio (starts).A gust of the soul! i'faith it overset me.O 'twas all folly—all! idle as laughter!135Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me.Isidore (in a low voice).I'll perish first!Ordonio.What dost thou mutter of?Isidore.Some of your servants know me, I am certain.Ordonio.There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you.Isidore.They'll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched140A 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 scaleIts western wall, and by an easier entranceStole after him unnoticed. There I marked,145That mid the chequer work of light and shadeWith curious choice he plucked no other flowers,But those on which the moonlight fell: and onceI heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard—Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.150Ordonio.Doubtless you question'd him?Isidore.'Twas my intention,Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spiesLurk every where, already (as it seemed)Had given commission to his apt familiar155To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near himIn that lone place, again concealed myself:Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd,160And in your name, as lord of this domain,Proudly he answered, 'Say to the Lord Ordonio,He that can bring the dead to life again!'Ordonio.A strange reply!Isidore.Aye, all of him is strange.He called himself a Christian, yet he wears165The Moorish robes, as if he courted death.Ordonio.Where does this wizard live?
Isidore.You are disturbed, my lord!
Ordonio (starts).A gust of the soul! i'faith it overset me.O 'twas all folly—all! idle as laughter!135Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me.
Isidore (in a low voice).I'll perish first!
Ordonio.What dost thou mutter of?
Isidore.Some of your servants know me, I am certain.
Ordonio.There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you.
Isidore.They'll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched140A 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 scaleIts western wall, and by an easier entranceStole after him unnoticed. There I marked,145That mid the chequer work of light and shadeWith curious choice he plucked no other flowers,But those on which the moonlight fell: and onceI heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard—Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.150
Ordonio.Doubtless you question'd him?
Isidore.'Twas my intention,Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spiesLurk every where, already (as it seemed)Had given commission to his apt familiar155To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near himIn that lone place, again concealed myself:Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question'd,160And in your name, as lord of this domain,Proudly he answered, 'Say to the Lord Ordonio,He that can bring the dead to life again!'
Ordonio.A strange reply!
Isidore.Aye, all of him is strange.He called himself a Christian, yet he wears165The Moorish robes, as if he courted death.
Ordonio.Where does this wizard live?
Isidore (pointing to the distance).You see that brooklet?Trace its course backward: through a narrow openingIt leads you to the place.Ordonio.How shall I know it?Isidore.You cannot err. It is a small green dell170Built all around with high off-sloping hills,And from its shape our peasants aptly call itThe Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst,And round its banks tall wood that branches over,And makes a kind of faery forest grow175Down in the water. At the further endA puny cataract falls on the lake;And there, a curious sight! you see its shadowFor ever curling, like a wreath of smoke,Up through the foliage of those faery trees.180His cot stands opposite. You cannot miss it.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?185Pardon 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,190See-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 ashStretches its lower boughs and scarlet clustersO'er the old thatch.Ordonio.I shall not fail to find it.195
Isidore (pointing to the distance).You see that brooklet?Trace its course backward: through a narrow openingIt leads you to the place.
Ordonio.How shall I know it?
Isidore.You cannot err. It is a small green dell170Built all around with high off-sloping hills,And from its shape our peasants aptly call itThe Giant's Cradle. There's a lake in the midst,And round its banks tall wood that branches over,And makes a kind of faery forest grow175Down in the water. At the further endA puny cataract falls on the lake;And there, a curious sight! you see its shadowFor ever curling, like a wreath of smoke,Up through the foliage of those faery trees.180His cot stands opposite. You cannot miss it.
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?185Pardon 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,190See-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 ashStretches its lower boughs and scarlet clustersO'er the old thatch.
Ordonio.I shall not fail to find it.195
[ExeuntOrdonioandIsidore.
[3]My]MyEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
My]MyEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[17]And how, my lord? I pray you name the thing.Editions 1, 2, 3.
And how, my lord? I pray you name the thing.Editions 1, 2, 3.
[19]Ordonio (with embarrassment and hesitation).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Ordonio (with embarrassment and hesitation).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[23]truth]truthEditions 2, 3, 1829.
truth]truthEditions 2, 3, 1829.
[24]Isidore (looking as suddenly alarmed).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Isidore (looking as suddenly alarmed).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[37]upon] onEdition 1.
upon] onEdition 1.
[61]Isidore (with stammering).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Isidore (with stammering).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[63]incautious]incautiousEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
incautious]incautiousEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[67]native]nativeEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
native]nativeEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[69]Ordonio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the third person).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Ordonio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the third person).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[79]Ordonio (with bitter scorn).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Ordonio (with bitter scorn).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[83]Ordonio (alarmed).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Ordonio (alarmed).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[84]those] theseEdition 1.
those] theseEdition 1.
[91]Am I not aman?Edition 1.] I]IEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Am I not aman?Edition 1.] I]IEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[97]Ordonio (sighing as if lost in thought).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Ordonio (sighing as if lost in thought).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[98]Ordonio (with eager suspicion).Editions 2, 3, 1829.
Ordonio (with eager suspicion).Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[98]Isidore (indignantly).Editions 2, 3, 1829.
Isidore (indignantly).Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[108]I]IEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
I]IEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[109]its] hisEdition 1.
its] hisEdition 1.
[120]He was the image of the Deity.Edition 1.
He was the image of the Deity.Edition 1.
After120[A pause.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
After120[A pause.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
After122[A pause.Editions 2, 3, 1829.
After122[A pause.Editions 2, 3, 1829.
[127]This sickness of the heart[A pause.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829, &c.
This sickness of the heart[A pause.
This sickness of the heart[A pause.
Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829, &c.
After129[A pause.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
After129[A pause.Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Before134Ordonio (starts, looking at him wildly; then, after a pause, during which his features are forced into a smile).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
Before134Ordonio (starts, looking at him wildly; then, after a pause, during which his features are forced into a smile).Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
[145]Stole] StolnEditions 1, 2, 3.
Stole] StolnEditions 1, 2, 3.
[161]your]yourEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
your]yourEditions 1, 2, 3, 1829.
After181Some three yards up the hill a mountain ashStretches its lower boughs and scarlet clustersO'er the old thatch.Ord.I shall not fail to find it.[ExitOrdonio.Isidoregoes into his Cottage.Edition 1.
After181
Some three yards up the hill a mountain ashStretches its lower boughs and scarlet clustersO'er the old thatch.Ord.I shall not fail to find it.[ExitOrdonio.Isidoregoes into his Cottage.
Some three yards up the hill a mountain ashStretches its lower boughs and scarlet clustersO'er the old thatch.
Ord.I shall not fail to find it.[ExitOrdonio.Isidoregoes into his Cottage.
Edition 1.
[182-95]om. Edition 1.
om. Edition 1.
The inside of a Cottage, around which flowers and plants of various kinds are seen. DiscoversAlvar, ZulimezandAlhadra, as on the point of leaving.
Alhadra (addressing Alvar).Farewell then! and though many thoughts perplex me,Aught evil or ignoble never can ISuspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art,The oppressed brethren of thy blood have needOf such a leader.Alvar.Nobly-minded woman!5Long time against oppression have I fought,And for the native liberty of faithHave bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain:Time, as he courses onward, still unrollsThe volume of concealment. In the future,10As in the optician's glassy cylinder,The indistinguishable blots and coloursOf the dim past collect and shape themselves,Upstarting in their own completed imageTo scare or to reward.I sought the guilty,15And what I sought I found: but ere the spearFlew from my hand, there rose an angel formBetwixt me and my aim. With baffled purposeTo the Avenger I leave vengeance, and depart!Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid,20Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.Once more, farewell.[ExitAlhadra.Yes, to the Belgic statesWe will return. These robes, this stained complexion,Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit.25Whate'er befall us, the heroic MauriceWill grant us an asylum, in remembranceOf our past services.Zulimez.And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours,You let a murderer hold?Alvar.O faithful Zulimez!30That my return involved Ordonio's death,I trust, would give me an unmingled pang,[842]Yet bearable: but when I see my fatherStrewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground,Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa—35Her husband proved a murderer, and her infantsHis 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,40I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True,'tis tiresome!You are a painter,[842:1]one of many fancies![843]You can call up past deeds, and make them liveOn the blank canvas! and each little herb,That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest,45You 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.
Alhadra (addressing Alvar).Farewell then! and though many thoughts perplex me,Aught evil or ignoble never can ISuspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art,The oppressed brethren of thy blood have needOf such a leader.
Alvar.Nobly-minded woman!5Long time against oppression have I fought,And for the native liberty of faithHave bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain:Time, as he courses onward, still unrollsThe volume of concealment. In the future,10As in the optician's glassy cylinder,The indistinguishable blots and coloursOf the dim past collect and shape themselves,Upstarting in their own completed imageTo scare or to reward.I sought the guilty,15And what I sought I found: but ere the spearFlew from my hand, there rose an angel formBetwixt me and my aim. With baffled purposeTo the Avenger I leave vengeance, and depart!
Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid,20Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.Once more, farewell.[ExitAlhadra.Yes, to the Belgic statesWe will return. These robes, this stained complexion,Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit.25Whate'er befall us, the heroic MauriceWill grant us an asylum, in remembranceOf our past services.
Zulimez.And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours,You let a murderer hold?
Alvar.O faithful Zulimez!30That my return involved Ordonio's death,I trust, would give me an unmingled pang,[842]Yet bearable: but when I see my fatherStrewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground,Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa—35Her husband proved a murderer, and her infantsHis 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,40I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True,'tis tiresome!You are a painter,[842:1]one of many fancies![843]You can call up past deeds, and make them liveOn the blank canvas! and each little herb,That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest,45You 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.
EnterOrdonio
Alvar.It is he!Ordonio (to himself as he enters).If I distinguish'd right her gait and stature,50It was the Moorish woman, Isidore's wife,That passed me as I entered. A lit taper,In the night air, doth not more naturallyAttract the night-flies round it, than a conjurorDraws round him the whole female neighbourhood.55[AddressingAlvar.You know my name, I guess, if not my person.I am Ordonio, son of the Lord Valdez.Alvar.The Son of Valdez!
Alvar.It is he!
Ordonio (to himself as he enters).If I distinguish'd right her gait and stature,50It was the Moorish woman, Isidore's wife,That passed me as I entered. A lit taper,In the night air, doth not more naturallyAttract the night-flies round it, than a conjurorDraws round him the whole female neighbourhood.55[AddressingAlvar.You know my name, I guess, if not my person.I am Ordonio, son of the Lord Valdez.
Alvar.The Son of Valdez!
[Ordoniowalks leisurely round the room, and looks attentively at the plants.
Zulimez (to Alvar).Why, what ails you now?How your hand trembles! Alvar, speak! what wish you?Alvar.To fall upon his neck and weep forgiveness!60Ordonio (returning, and aloud).Plucked in the moonlight from a ruined abbey—Those only, which the pale rays visited!O the unintelligible power of weeds,When a few odd prayers have been muttered o'er them:Then they work miracles! I warrant you,65There's not a leaf, but underneath it lurksSome serviceable imp.There's one of youHath sent me a strange message.Alvar.I am he.Ordonio.With you, then, I am to speak:[Haughtily waving his hand toZulimez.And mark you, alone.[ExitZulimez.70[844]'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!Alvar.'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds,That are all dust and rottenness within.75Would'st thou I should strip such?Ordonio.Thou quibbling fool,What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journeyed hitherTo sport with thee?Alvar.O no, my lord! to sportBest suits the gaiety of innocence.Ordonio (aside).O what a thing is man! the wisest heart80A fool! a fool that laughs at its own folly,Yet still a fool![Looks round the cottage.You are poor!Alvar.What follows thence?Ordonio.That you would fain be richer.The inquisition, too—You comprehend me?You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power,85Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty:And for the boon I ask of you but this,That you should serve me—once—for a few hours.Alvar.Thou art the son of Valdez! would to HeavenThat I could truly and for ever serve thee.90Ordonio.The slave begins to soften.[Aside.You are my friend,'He that can bring the dead to life again,'Nay, no defence to me! The holy brethrenBelieve these calumnies—I know thee better.Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!95Alvar (aside).Alas! this hollow mirth—Declare your business.Ordonio.I love a lady, and she would love meBut for an idle and fantastic scruple.Have you no servants here, no listeners?[Ordoniosteps to the door.Alvar.What, faithless too? False to his angel wife?100To such a wife? Well might'st thou look so wan,Ill-starr'd Teresa!—--Wretch! my softer soulIs pass'd away, and I will probe his conscience!Ordonio.In truth this lady lov'd another man,But he has perish'd.
Zulimez (to Alvar).Why, what ails you now?How your hand trembles! Alvar, speak! what wish you?
Alvar.To fall upon his neck and weep forgiveness!60
Ordonio (returning, and aloud).Plucked in the moonlight from a ruined abbey—Those only, which the pale rays visited!O the unintelligible power of weeds,When a few odd prayers have been muttered o'er them:Then they work miracles! I warrant you,65There's not a leaf, but underneath it lurksSome serviceable imp.There's one of youHath sent me a strange message.
Alvar.I am he.
Ordonio.With you, then, I am to speak:[Haughtily waving his hand toZulimez.And mark you, alone.[ExitZulimez.70[844]'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!
Alvar.'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds,That are all dust and rottenness within.75Would'st thou I should strip such?
Ordonio.Thou quibbling fool,What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journeyed hitherTo sport with thee?
Alvar.O no, my lord! to sportBest suits the gaiety of innocence.
Ordonio (aside).O what a thing is man! the wisest heart80A fool! a fool that laughs at its own folly,Yet still a fool![Looks round the cottage.You are poor!
Alvar.What follows thence?
Ordonio.That you would fain be richer.The inquisition, too—You comprehend me?You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power,85Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty:And for the boon I ask of you but this,That you should serve me—once—for a few hours.
Alvar.Thou art the son of Valdez! would to HeavenThat I could truly and for ever serve thee.90
Ordonio.The slave begins to soften.[Aside.You are my friend,'He that can bring the dead to life again,'Nay, no defence to me! The holy brethrenBelieve these calumnies—I know thee better.Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!95
Alvar (aside).Alas! this hollow mirth—Declare your business.
Ordonio.I love a lady, and she would love meBut for an idle and fantastic scruple.Have you no servants here, no listeners?[Ordoniosteps to the door.
Alvar.What, faithless too? False to his angel wife?100To such a wife? Well might'st thou look so wan,Ill-starr'd Teresa!—--Wretch! my softer soulIs pass'd away, and I will probe his conscience!
Ordonio.In truth this lady lov'd another man,But he has perish'd.