Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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. Tomorrow 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

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?