From you, my lord-but how can I serve you here?
Ord. Why, you can utter with a solemn gesture
Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning,
Wear a quaint garment, make mysterious antics—
Isid. I am dull, my lord! I do not comprehend

you.

Ord. In blunt terms, you can play the sorcerer.
She hath no faith in Holy Church, 'tis true;
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
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
I bade thee take, the trophy of thy conquest.
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 whispered 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.

Isid. But now I should have cursed the man who

told me

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

But this I cannot do.

Ord. Where lies your scruple?

Isid. Why-why, my lord!

You know you told me that the lady loved you,
Had loved you with incautious tenderness;
That if the young man, her betrothed husband,
Returned, 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-
Ord. This fellow is a man-he killed for hire
One whom he knew not, yet has tender scruples!
[Then turning to Isidore.
These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammer-

ing

Pish, fool! thou blund'rest through the book of guilt, Spelling thy villany.

Isid.

My lord-my lord,

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

But there's a point where sufferance is meanness : I am no villain-never kill'd for hire

My gratitude

Ord.

O aye-your gratitude!

'Twas a well sounding word-what have you done

with it?

Is Who proffers his past favors for my virtue

VOL. II.

12

Ord.

Virtue

Isid. Tries to o'erreach me-is a very sharper, And should not speak of gratitude, my lord.

I knew not 'twas your brother!

Ord.

And who told you?

Ha! you talk'd with him!

Isid. He himself told me.

Ord.

And those, the two Morescoes who were with you? Isid. Both fell in a night-brawl at Malaga.

Ord. (in a low voice.)

My brother

Isid. 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

Ord. Villain! no more. I'll hear no more of it. Isid. My lord, it much imports your future safety That you should hear it.

Ord. (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!

Isid. We met him in the very place you mentioned. Hard by a grove of firs

Ord.

Enough-enough

Isid. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all ; In fine, compelled a parley.

He promised us I know not what—in vain!

Then with a look and voice that overawed me,

He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear: I have a brother and a promised wife,

Who make my 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;

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,
And he the man who sent us to destroy you.
He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him,
He wore her portrait round his neck. He look'd
As he had been made of the rock that propt his back-
Aye, just as you look now-only less ghastly!
At length recovering from his trance, he threw
His sword away, and bade us take his life,

It was not worth his keeping.

Ord.

And you kill'd him?

Oh, bloodhounds! may eternal wrath flame round

you!

He was his Maker's image undefac'd ?

It seizes me-by hell I will go on!

What-would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee!

Oh cold-cold-cold! shot through with icy cold! Isid. (aside.) Were he alive he had returned ere

now.

The consequence the same-dead thro' his plotting! Ord. O this unutterable dying away-here

This sickness of the heart!

What if I went

And liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?
Aye! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!
What have I done but that which nature destined,
'Or the blind elements stirred up within me?

If good were meant, why were we made these beings?
And if not meant-

Isid.

You are disturb'd, my lord!

Ord. (starts) A gust of the soul! i'faith it overset me. O 'twas all folly-all! idle as laughter!

Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me.
Isid. (in a low voice.) I'll perish first!

Ord.

What dost thou mutter of?

Isid. Some of your servants know me, I am cer[we'll mask you.

Ord.

tain.

There's some sense in that scruple; but Isid. They'll know my gait: but stay! last night

I watched

A stranger near the ruin in the wood, [flowers.
Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild
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
With curious choice he plucked no other flowers,
But those on which the moonlight fell and once
I heard him muttering o'er the plant. A wizard—
Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.
Ord. Doubtless you question'd him?