Velez. Still sad, Maria? This same wizard haunts you. 235
Maria. O Christ! the tortures that hang o'er his head,
 If ye betray him to these holy brethren!
Velez (with a kind of sneer). A portly man, and eloquent, and tender!
 In truth, I shall not wonder if you mourn
 That their rude grasp should seize on such a victim. 240
Maria. The horror of their ghastly punishments
 Doth so o'ertop the height of sympathy,
 That I should feel too little for mine enemy—
 Ah! far too little—if 'twere possible,
 I could feel more, even tho' my child or husband 245
 Were doom'd to suffer them! That such things are——
Velez. Hush! thoughtless woman!
Maria. Nay—it wakes within me
 More than a woman's spirit.
Velez (angrily). No more of this—
 I can endure no more.
Foster-Mother. My honour'd master!
 Lord Albert used to talk so.
Maria. Yes! my mother! 250
 These are my Albert's lessons, and I con them
 With more delight than, in my fondest hour,
 I bend me o'er his portrait.
Velez (to the Foster-Mother). My good woman,
 You may retire. [Exit the Foster-Mother.
 Velez. We have mourn'd for Albert.
 [575] Have I no living son?
Maria. Speak not of him! 255
 That low imposture—my heart sickens at it,
 If it be madness, must I wed a madman?
 And if not madness, there is mystery,
 And guilt doth lurk behind it!
Valdez. Is this well?
Maria. Yes! it is truth. Saw you his countenance? 260
 How rage, remorse, and scorn, and stupid fear,
 Displac'd each other with swift interchanges?
 If this were all assumed, as you believe,
 He must needs be a most consummate actor;
 And hath so vast a power to deceive me, 265
 I never could be safe. And why assume
 The semblance of such execrable feelings?
Velez. Ungrateful woman! I have tried to stifle
 An old man's passion! Was it not enough
 That thou hast made my son a restless man, 270
 [576] Banish'd his health and half-unhinged his reason,
 But that thou wilt insult him with suspicion,
 And toil to blast his honour? I am old—
 A comfortless old man! Thou shalt not stay
 Beneath my roof!

[Francesco enters and stands listening.

Velez. Repent and marry him— 275
 Or to the convent.
Francesco (muttering). Good! good! very good!
Maria. Nay, grant me some small pittance of my fortune,
 And I will live a solitary woman,
 Or my poor foster-mother and her grandsons
 May be my household.
Francesco (advancing). I abhor a listener; 280
 But you spoke so, I could not choose but hear you.
 I pray, my lord! will you embolden me
 To ask you why this lady doth prefer
 To live in lonely sort, without a friend
 Or fit companion?
Velez. Bid her answer you. 285
Maria. Nature will be my friend and fit companion. [Turns off from them.
 [577] O Albert! Albert! that they could return,
 Those blessed days, that imitated heaven!
 When we two wont to walk at evening-tide;
 When we saw nought but beauty; when we heard 290
 The voice of that Almighty One, who lov'd us,
 In every gale that breath'd, and wave that murmur'd!
 O we have listen'd, even till high-wrought pleasure
 Hath half-assumed the countenance of grief,
 And the deep sigh seem'd to heave up a weight 295
 Of bliss, that press'd too heavy on the heart.
[578]Francesco. But in the convent, lady, you would have
 Such aids as might preserve you from perdition.
 There you might dwell.
Maria. With tame and credulous faith,
 Mad melancholy, antic merriment, 300
 Leanness, disquietude, and secret pangs!
 O God! it is a horrid thing to know
 That each pale wretch, who sits and drops her beads
 Had once a mind, which might have given her wings
 Such as the angels wear!
Francesco (stifling his rage). Where is your son, my lord? 305
Velez. I have not seen him, father, since he left you.
Francesco. His lordship's generous nature hath deceiv'd him!
 That Ferdinand (or if not he his wife)
 I have fresh evidence—are infidels.
 We are not safe until they are rooted out. 310
Maria. Thou man, who call'st thyself the minister
 Of Him whose law was love unutterable!
 Why is thy soul so parch'd with cruelty,
 That still thou thirstest for thy brother's blood?
Velez (rapidly). Father! I have long suspected it—her brain— 315
 Heed it not, father!
Francesco. Nay—but I must heed it.
Maria. Thou miserable man! I fear thee not,
 Nor prize a life which soon may weary me.
 Bear witness, Heav'n! I neither scorn nor hate him— 320
 But O! 'tis wearisome to mourn for evils,
 Still mourn, and have no power to remedy! [Exit Maria.
Francesco. My lord! I shall presume to wait on you
 To-morrow early.
Velez. Be it so, good father! [Exit Francesco.
Velez (alone). I do want solace, but not such as thine! 325
 The moon is high in heaven, and my eyes ache,
 But not with sleep. Well—it is ever so.
 A child, a child is born! and the fond heart
 Dances! and yet the childless are most happy.

[Scene changes to the mountains by moonlight. Alhadra alone in a Moorish dress, her eyes fixed on the earth. Then drop in one after another, from different parts of the stage, a considerable number of Morescoes, all in their Moorish garments. They form a circle at a distance round Alhadra. After a pause one of the Morescoes to the man who stands next to him.

First Moresco. The law which forced these Christian dresses on us, 330
 'Twere pleasant to cleave down the wretch who framed it.
Second. Yet 'tis not well to trample on it idly.
First. Our country robes are dear.
Second. And like dear friends,
 May chance to prove most perilous informers.

[A third Moresco, Naomi, advances from out the circle.

Naomi. Woman! may Alla and the prophet bless thee! 335
 We have obey'd thy call. Where is our chief?
 And why didst thou enjoin the Moorish garments?
Alhadra (lifting up [raising Remorse] her eyes, and looking round on the circle).
 Warriors of Mahomet, faithful in the battle,
 My countrymen! Come ye prepared to work
 An honourable deed? And would ye work it 340
 In the slave's garb? Curse on those Christian robes!
 They are spell-blasted; and whoever wears them,
 His arm shrinks wither'd, his heart melts away,
 And his bones soften!
Naomi. Where is Ferdinand?
Alhadra (in a deep low voice). This night I went from forth my house, and left 345
 His children all asleep; and he was living!
 And I return'd, and found them still asleep—
 But he had perish'd.
All. Perished?
Alhadra. He had perish'd!
 Sleep on, poor babes! not one of you doth know
 That he is fatherless, a desolate orphan! 350
 Why should we wake them? Can an infant's arm
 [580] Revenge his murder?
One to Another. Did she say his murder?
Naomi. Murder'd? Not murder'd?
Alhadra. Murder'd by a Christian!

[They all, at once, draw their sabres.

Alhadra (to Naomi, who on being addressed again advances from the circle). Brother of Zagri! fling away thy sword:
 This is thy chieftain's! [He steps forward to take it.
 Dost thou dare receive it? 355
 For I have sworn by Alia and the prophet,
 No tear shall dim these eyes, this woman's heart
 Shall heave no groan, till I have seen that sword
 Wet with the blood of all the house of Velez!

Enter Maurice.

All. A spy! a spy! [They seize him.
Maurice. Off! off! unhand me, slaves! 360

[After much struggling he disengages himself and draws his sword.

Naomi (to Alhadra). Speak! shall we kill him?
Maurice. Yes! ye can kill a man,
 Some twenty of you! But ye are Spanish slaves!
 And slaves are always cruel, always cowards.
Alhadra. That man has spoken truth. Whence and who art thou?
Maurice. I seek a dear friend, whom for aught I know 365
 The son of Velez hath hired one of you
 To murder! Say, do ye know aught of Albert?
Alhadra (starting). Albert?—three years ago I heard that name
 Murmur'd in sleep! High-minded foreigner!
 Mix thy revenge with mine, and stand among us. 370

[Maurice stands among the Morescoes.

Alhadra. Was not Osorio my husband's friend?
Old Man. He kill'd my son in battle; yet our chieftain
 Forced me to sheathe my dagger. See—the point
 Is bright, unrusted with the villain's blood!
Alhadra. He is your chieftain's murderer!
[581]Naomi. He dies by Alla!
All (dropping on one knee). By Alla! 375
Alhadra. This night a reeking slave came with loud pant,
 Gave Ferdinand a letter, and departed,
 Swift as he came. Pale, with unquiet looks,
 He read the scroll.
Maurice. Its purport?
Alhadra. Yes, I ask'd it.
 He answer'd me, 'Alhadra! thou art worthy 380
 A nobler secret; but I have been faithful
 To this bad man, and faithful I will be.'
 He said, and arm'd himself, and lit a torch;
 Then kiss'd his children, each one on its pillow,
 And hurried from me. But I follow'd him 385
 At distance, till I saw him enter there.
Naomi. The cavern?
Alhadra. Yes—the mouth of yonder cavern.
 After a pause I saw the son of Velez
 Rush by with flaring torch; he likewise enter'd—
 There was another and a longer pause— 390
 And once, methought, I heard the clash of swords,
 And soon the son of Velez reappear'd.
 He flung his torch towards the moon in sport,
 And seem'd as he were mirthful! I stood listening
 Impatient for the footsteps of my husband! 395
Maurice. Thou called'st him?
Alhadra. I crept into the cavern:
 [582] 'Twas dark and very silent. [Then wildly.
 What said'st thou?
 No, no! I did not dare call, Ferdinand!
 Lest I should hear no answer. A brief while,
 Belike, I lost all thought and memory 400
 Of that for which I came! After that pause,
 O God! I heard a groan!—and follow'd it.
 And yet another groan—which guided me
 Into a strange recess—and there was light,
 A hideous light! his torch lay on the ground— 405
 Its flame burnt dimly o'er a chasm's brink.
 I spake—and while I spake, a feeble groan
 Came from that chasm! It was his last! his death groan!
Maurice. Comfort her, comfort her, Almighty Father!
Alhadra. I stood in unimaginable trance 410
 And agony, that cannot be remember'd,
 Listening with horrid hope to hear a groan!
 But I had heard his last—my husband's death-groan!
Naomi. Haste! let us go!
Alhadra. I look'd far down the pit.
 My sight was bounded by a jutting fragment, 415
 And it was stain'd with blood! Then first I shriek'd!
 My eyeballs burnt! my brain grew hot as fire!
 And all the hanging drops of the wet roof
 Turn'd into blood. I saw them turn to blood!
 And I was leaping wildly down the chasm 420
 When on the further brink I saw his sword,
 And it said, Vengeance! Curses on my tongue!
 The moon hath moved in heaven, and I am here,
 And he hath not had vengeance! Ferdinand!
 Spirit of Ferdinand! thy murderer lives! 425
 Away! away! [She rushes off, all following.

END OF THE FOURTH ACT

FOOTNOTES:

[564:1] The square brackets (which appear in both MSS.) seem to indicate that these words were an 'aside'. P. W. 1893, p. 499. Editor's Note.

[565:1] Against this passage Coleridge has written in MS. II:—'This will be held by many for a mere Tragedy-dream—by many who have never given themselves the trouble to ask themselves from what grounds dreams pleased in Tragedy, and wherefore they have become so common. I believe, however, that in the present case, the whole is here psychologically true and accurate. Prophetical dreams are things of nature, and explicable by that law of the mind in which where dim ideas are connected with vivid feelings, Perception and Imagination insinuate themselves and mix with the forms of Recollection, till the Present appears to exactly correspond with the Past. Whatever is partially like, the Imagination will gradually represent as wholly like—a law of our nature which, when it is perfectly understood, woe to the great city Babylon—to all the superstitions of Men!' P. W., 1893, p. 499.

[567:1] Against this passage Coleridge writes in MS. II:—'Under the mask of the third person Osorio relates his own story, as in the delusion of self-justification and pride, it appeared to himself—at least as he wished it to appear to himself.' P. W., 1893, p. 499.

'Osorio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification, tells what he conceives of his own character and actions—speaking of himself in the third person.' MS. III.

[570:1] Against this line Coleridge writes in MS. II:—'Osorio has thrust Ferdinand down the chasm. I think it an important instance how Dreams and Prophecies coöperate to their own completion.' P. W., 1893, p. 501.

LINENOTES:

[1-3]

Erased MS. III.: om. Remorse.

This ceaseless dreary sound of
 
 
water drops
dropping water—
I would they had not fallen upon my Torch!

Corr. in MS. III.

[5-6]

In inverted commas. Remorse.

[8]

cannot] can not Remorse. cranny] crevice Remorse.

[12]

MS. III erased.

Between 11 and 13

 

(a) Any thing but this crash of water drops!
  These dull abortive sounds that fret the silence
  With puny thwartings and mock opposition!
  So beats the death-watch to a sick man's ear

Remorse.

 

(b) Anything but this
 
 
crash of water-drops
noise
  At broken measure
 
 
scoffing
mocking intervals—
  Their discontinuous, interruptive sound
 
 
These
With dull abortive &c.

MS. III erased.

Affixed to variant (a) of l. 12 '—this at all events is the final result of this correction.' S. T. C.

[13]

A hellish pit! O God—'tis that I dreamt of! Corr. in MS. III: A hellish pit! The very same I dreamt of! Remorse.

Affixed to 13 'You mean like the dream presented to my mind when under the influence of the night-mare. This is most ludicrously expressed.' C. Ll[oyd]

[16]

I swear that I saw something Remorse.

[18]

In the stage-direction the last four words are omitted Remorse.

[19]

Drips] Drops Remorse.

Between 19 and 31.

Isidore. A jest to laugh at!
 It was not that which scar'd me, good my lord.
Ordonio. What scar'd you, then?
Isidore. You see that little rift?
 But first permit me! [Lights his torch at Ordonio's, and while lighting it.
 (A lighted torch in the hand
 Is no unpleasant object here—one's breath
 Floats round the flame, and makes as many colours
 As the thin clouds that travel near the moon.)
 You see that crevice there?
 My torch extinguished by these water drops,
 And marking that the moonlight came from thence,
 I stept in to it, meaning to sit there;
 But scarcely had I measured twenty paces—
 My body bending forward, yea, o'erbalanced
 Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink
 Of a hugh chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine
 Filling the void so counterfeited substance,
 That my foot hung aslant adown the edge.
 Was it my own fear?
 Fear too hath its instincts!
 (And yet such dens as these are wildly told of,
 And there are beings that live, yet not for the eye)
 An arm of frost above and from behind me
 Pluck'd up and snatched me backward. Merciful Heaven!
 You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here!
 My lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.

Remorse.

[33]

move] creep Remorse.

[35]

if] had Remorse.

[37-9]
Ordonio. Why, Isidore,
 I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled,
 I grant you, even a brave man for a moment—

Remorse.

[41]

thump] strike Corr. in MS. III, Remorse.

[42]

and] then Remorse.

[44]

Sunk with a faint splash in that groaning Corr. in MS. III. Sunk] Sank Remorse.

[49]

fellow-men] fellow man Remorse.

[52]

laugh] smile Remorse.

Between 54 and 57:

O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at
 By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance—
 Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing,
 But only being afraid—stifled with fear!
 While every goodly or familiar form
 Had a strange power of breathing terror round me!
 I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;
 And I entreat your lordship to believe me,

Remorse.

[56]

om. Remorse.

[62]

my] mine Remorse.

[64]
Ord. (after a pause). I know not why it should be! yet it is—

Remorse.

[65]

Abhorrent from our nature, Remorse.

[67-70]
Ord. Why that's my case! and yet the soul recoils from it—
 'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps,
 Have sterner feelings?
Isid. Something troubles you.
 How shall I serve you?

Remorse.

[77]

yards] strides Remorse.

[80]

Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[82]

the] thy Remorse.

Between 84 and 88

Isid. (aside). He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself!
 I am on my guard however: no surprise [Then to Ordonio.

Remorse.

[86-7]

om. Remorse.

[91-2]
Isidore. Of himself he speaks. [Aside.
 Alas! poor wretch!
 Mad men, &c.

Remorse.

[93]

phantasies] phantom thoughts Remorse.

[104]

go on] proceed Remorse.

[105]

his] this Remorse.

[106]

being] substance Remorse.

[108]

Stage-direction om. Remorse.

[120]

some] same Remorse.

[121-2]
He proved a traitor,
 Betrayed the mystery to a brother traitor

Remorse.

[125-7]

om. Remorse.

[131]

Stage-direction om. Remorse.

Between 143 and 145.

With weak and womanish scruples. Now my vengeance
 Beckons me onwards with a warrior's mien,
 And claims that life, my pity robb'd her of—
 Now will I kill thee, thankless slave, and count it

Remorse.

Affixed to 147.

Ferdinand on hearing the threat of Osorio feels a momentary horror at the consequences of his being killed, and in tones of mingled fear and sorrow—

And all my little ones fatherless!

then bursting into indignation 'Die thou first', MS. III.

After 147

[They fight. Ordonio disarms Isidore, and in disarming him throws his sword up that recess opposite to which they were standing. Isidore hurries into the recess with his torch, Ordonio follows him; a loud cry of 'Traitor! Monster!' is heard from the cavern, and in a moment Ordonio returns alone.

Ordonio. I have hurl'd him down the chasm! treason for treason.
 He dreamt of it, henceforward let him sleep,
 A dreamless sleep, from which no wife can wake him.
 His dream too is made out—Now for his friend. [Exit. Ordonio.

Remorse.