Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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.