Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

And for this service, all I ask you is 235

That you should serve me — once — for a few hours.

Albert (solemnly). Thou art the son of Velez! Would to Heaven

That I could truly and for ever serve thee!

Osorio. The canting scoundrel softens. [Aside.

You are my friend!

‘He that can bring the dead to life again.’ 240

Nay, no defence to me. The holy brethren

Believe these calumnies. I know thee better.

[Then with great bitterness.

Thou art a man, and as a man I’ll trust thee!

Albert. Alas, this hollow mirth! Declare your business!

Osorio. I love a lady, and she would love me 245

But for an idle and fantastic scruple.

Have you no servants round the house? no listeners?

[OSORIO steps to the door.

Albert. What! faithless too? false to his angel wife?

To such a wife? Well might’st thou look so wan,

Ill-starr’d Maria! Wretch! my softer soul 250

Is pass’d away! and I will probe his conscience.

Osorio (returned). In truth this lady loved another man,

But he has perish’d.

Albert. What? you kill’d him? hey?

Osorio. I’ll dash thee to the earth, if thou but think’st it,

Thou slave! thou galley-slave! thou mountebank! 255

I leave thee to the hangman!

Albert. Fare you well!

I pity you, Osorio! even to anguish!

[ALBERT retires off the stage.

Osorio (recovering himself). ‘Twas ideotcy! I’ll tie myself to

an aspen,

And wear a Fool’s Cap. Ho! [Calling after ALBERT.

Albert (returning). Be brief, what wish you?

Osorio. You are deep at bartering — you charge yourself 260

At a round sum. Come, come, I spake unwisely.

Albert. I listen to you.

Osorio. In a sudden tempest

Did Albert perish — he, I mean, the lover —

The fellow ——

Albert. Nay, speak out, ‘twill ease your heart

To call him villain! Why stand’st thou aghast? 265

Men think it natural to hate their rivals!

Osorio (hesitating and half doubting whether he should proceed).

Now till she knows him dead she will not wed me!

Albert (with eager vehemence). Are you not wedded, then?

Merciful God!

Not wedded to Maria?

Osorio. Why, what ails thee?

Art mad or drunk? Why look’st thou upward so? 270

Dost pray to Lucifer, prince of the air?

Albert. Proceed. I shall be silent.

[ALBERT sits, and leaning on the table hides his face.

Osorio. To Maria!

Politic wizard! ere you sent that message,

You had conn’d your lesson, made yourself proficient

In all my fortunes! Hah! you prophesied 275

A golden crop! — well, you have not mistaken —

Be faithful to me, and I’ll pay thee nobly.

Albert (lifting up his head). Well — and this lady!

Osorio. If we could make her certain of his death,

She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her, 280

She tied a little portrait round his neck

Entreating him to wear it.

Albert (sighing). Yes! he did so!

Osorio. Why, no! he was afraid of accidents,

Of robberies and shipwrecks, and the like.

In secrecy he gave it me to keep 285

Till his return.

Albert. What, he was your friend then?

Osorio (wounded and embarrassed). I was his friend.

[A pause.

Now that he gave it me

This lady knows not. You are a mighty wizard —

Can call this dead man up — he will not come — 290

He is in heaven then! — there you have no influence —

Still there are tokens; and your imps may bring you

Something he wore about him when he died.

And when the smoke of the incense on the altar

Is pass’d, your spirits will have left this picture. 295

What say you now?

Albert (after a long pause). Osorio, I will do it.

Osorio. Delays are dangerous. It shall be tomorrow

In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Velez.

I will prepare him. Music, too, and incense,

All shall be ready. Here is this same picture — 300

And here what you will value more, a purse.

Before the dusk ——

Albert. I will not fail to meet you.

Osorio. Till next we meet, farewell!

Albert (alone, gazes passionately at the portrait). And I did

curse thee?

At midnight? on my knees? And I believed

Thee perjured, thee polluted, thee a murderess? 305

O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly!

Should not thy inarticulate fondnesses,

Thy infant loves — should not thy maiden vows,

Have come upon my heart? And this sweet image

Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment 310

And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble.

Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant

Who spake pollutions of thee!

I am unworthy of thy love, Maria!

Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, 315

Which ever smil’d on me! Yet do not scorn me.

I lisp’d thy name ere I had learnt my mother’s!

Enter MAURICE.

Albert. Maurice! that picture, which I painted for thee,

Of my assassination.

Maurice. I’ll go fetch it.

Albert. Haste! for I yearn to tell thee what has pass’d. 320

[MAURICE goes out.

Albert (gazing at the portrait). Dear image! rescued from a

traitor’s keeping,

I will not now prophane thee, holy image!

To a dark trick! That worst bad man shall find

A picture which shall wake the hell within him,

And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience! 325

END OF ACT THE SECOND.

[Before 1]

A wild and mountainous Country. ORDONIO and ISIDORE are discovered,

supposed at a little distance from Isidore’s house.

Ord. Here we may stop: your house distinct in view,

Yet we secured from listeners.

Isid. Now indeed

My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters

Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock

That overbrows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!

Thrice have you sav’d my life.

Remorse.

[Between 24 and 26]

Why you can utter with a solemn gesture

Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning

Remorse.

in their place, as here, in MSS. II, III, and in Remorse.

And such do love the marvellous too well

Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy

Remorse.

[Between 40 and 41]

Isid. Will that be a sure sign?

Ord. Beyond suspicion.

Fondly caressing him, her favour’d lover,

(By some base spell he had bewitched her senses.)

She whisper’d such dark fears of me forsooth,

As made this heart pour gall into my veins,

And as she coyly bound it round his neck,

She made him promise silence; and now holds

The secret of the existence of this portrait

Known only to her lover and herself.

But I had traced her, stolen unnotic’d on them,

And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.

Remorse.

[Between 50 and 53]

Return’d, yourself, and she, and the honour of both

Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruples

Than those which being native to the heart,

Than those, my lord, which merely being a man —

Remorse.

Stage-direction before 53 om. Remorse.

These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering —

Pish, fool! thou blund’rest through the book of guilt

Remorse.

[After 63] Ord. Virtue — Remorse.

[After 117] Ord. (starts). A gust, &c. Remorse.

[Between 125 and 140.]

Isidore. They’ll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched

A 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 scale

Its western wall, and by an easier entrance

Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked,

That mid the chequer work of light and shade,