Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

New mould his canker’d heart! Assist me, heaven,

That I may pray for my poor guilty brother! [Exit.

ORDONIO’S appearance to be collected from what follows.

Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

started on Edition 1.

1829. I? — I] I? — I Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

[After 146: [Then recovering himself. Editions 1, 2, 3.

[After 147] … follows soothing him. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

A scathing curse! [Then, as if recollecting herself, and with

a timid look.

Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

[After 184] Teresa (perceiving that Alhadra is conscious she has spoken

imprudently). Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

1829.

In darkness I remained — counting the bell

Which haply told me, that the blessed Sun

Was rising on my garden.

Edition 1.

[After 267] [They advance to the front of the Stage. Editions 1, 2, 3,

1829.

[After 278] [TERESA looks round uneasily, but gradually becomes

attentive as ALVAR proceeds in the next speech. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

As the gored lion’s bite!

Teresa (shuddering). A fearful curse!

Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

would, &c. Editions 1, 2, 3, 1829.

[After 364] End of the Act First. Editions 1, 2, 3.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

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

supposed at a little distance from ISIDORE’S house.

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

Yet we secured from listeners.

Isidore. 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! 5

Thrice have you saved 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 10

Had been my bed and pillow.

Ordonio. Good Isidore!

Why this to me? It is enough, you know it.

Isidore. A common trick of gratitude, my lord,

Seeking to ease her own full heart ——

Ordonio. Enough!

A debt repaid ceases to be a debt. 15

You have it in your power to serve me greatly.

Isidore. And how, my lord? I pray you to name the thing.

I would climb up an ice-glazed precipice

To pluck a weed you fancied!

Ordonio. Why — that — Lady —

Isidore. ‘Tis now three years, my lord, since last I saw you: 20

Have you a son, my lord?

Ordonio. O miserable — [Aside.

Isidore! you are a man, and know mankind.

I told you what I wished — now for the truth —

She loved the man you kill’d.

Isidore. You jest, my lord?

Ordonio. And till his death is proved she will not wed me. 25

Isidore. You sport with me, my lord?

Ordonio. Come, come! this foolery

Lives only in thy looks, thy heart disowns it!

Isidore. I can bear this, and any thing more grievous

From you, my lord — but how can I serve you here?

Ordonio. Why, you can utter with a solemn gesture 30

Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning,

Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics —

Isidore. I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend you.

Ordonio. In blunt terms, you can play the sorcerer.

She hath no faith in Holy Church, ‘tis true: 35

Her lover schooled her in some newer nonsense!

Yet still a tale of spirits works upon her.

She is a lone enthusiast, sensitive,

Shivers, and can not keep the tears in her eye:

And such do love the marvellous too well 40

Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy

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 45

I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest.

Isidore. Will that be a sure sign?

Ordonio. Beyond suspicion.

Fondly caressing him, her favour’d lover,

(By some base spell he had bewitched her senses)

She whispered such dark fears of me forsooth, 50

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. 55

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

And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.

Isidore. But now I should have cursed the man who told me

You could ask aught, my lord, and I refuse —

But this I can not do.

Ordonio. Where lies your scruple? 60

Isidore. Why — why, my lord!

You know you told me that the lady lov’d you,

Had loved you with incautious tenderness;

That if the young man, her betrothéd husband,

Returned, yourself, and she, and the honour of both 65

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 —

Ordonio. This fellow is a Man — he killed for hire

One whom he knew not, yet has tender scruples! 70

[Then turning to ISIDORE.

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

Pish, fool! thou blunder’st through the book of guilt,

Spelling thy villainy.

Isidore. My lord — my lord,

I can bear much — yes, very much from you!

But there’s a point where sufferance is meanness: 75

I am no villain — never kill’d for hire —

My gratitude ——

Ordonio. O aye — your gratitude!

‘Twas a well-sounding word — what have you done with it?

Isidore. Who proffers his past favours for my virtue —

Ordonio. Virtue ——

Isidore. Tries to o’erreach me — is a very sharper, 80

And should not speak of gratitude, my lord.

I knew not ‘twas your brother!

Ordonio. And who told you?

Isidore. He himself told me.

Ordonio. Ha! you talk’d with him!

And those, the two Morescoes who were with you?

Isidore. Both fell in a night brawl at Malaga. 85

Ordonio (in a low voice). My brother —

Isidore. Yes, my lord, I could not

tell you!

I thrust away the thought — it drove me wild.

But listen to me now — I pray you listen ——

Ordonio. Villain! no more. I’ll hear no more of it.

Isidore. My lord, it much imports your future safety 90

That you should hear it.

Ordonio (turning off from Isidore). Am not I a man!

‘Tis as it should be! tut — the deed itself

Was idle, and these after-pangs still idler!

Isidore. We met him in the very place you mentioned.

Hard by a grove of firs —

Ordonio. Enough — enough — 95

Isidore. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all;

In fine, compelled a parley.

Ordonio. Alvar! brother!

Isidore. He offered me his purse —

Ordonio. Yes?

Isidore. Yes — I spurned it. —

He promised us I know not what — in vain!

Then with a look and voice that overawed me, 100

He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear:

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; 105

I asked his brother’s name: he said — Ordonio,

Son of Lord Valdez! I had well nigh fainted.

At length I said (if that indeed I said it,

And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ,)

That woman is dishonoured by that brother, 110

And he the man who sent us to destroy you.

He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him