The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, (1 and 2), by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

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.
[536] 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

[537]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 betrothéd 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,
[538] 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
[539] 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?

[540]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.
[541] 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.
[542]Some three yards up the hill a mountain ash
Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters 160
[543] O'er the new thatch.

Osorio. I shall not fail to find it.

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

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
[544] 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.

ACT THE SECOND