Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

And she referr'd to me-fondly, methought!
Could she walk here if she had been a traitress?
Here, where we play'd together in our childhood?
Here, where we plighted vows? where her cold cheek
Received my last kiss, when with suppress'd feelings
She had fainted in my arms? It cannot be !
"T is not in Nature! I will die, believing
That I shall meet her where no evil is,

No treachery, no cup dash'd from the lips.
I'll haunt this scene no more! live she in peace!
Her husband-ay, her husband! May this angel
New mould his canker'd heart! Assist me, Heaven,
That I may pray for my poor guilty brother! [Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-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.

1si.

Now indeed

My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters
Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock,
That over-brows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!
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
Had been my bed and pillow.

Ord.

Good Isidore

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

Isi. A common trick of Gratitude, my Lord, Seeking to ease her own full heart

Ord.

A debt repaid ceases to be a debt.

Enough,

You have it in your power to serve me greatly.

Isi. And how, my Lord? I pray you to name the thing.

I would climb up an ice-glaz'd precipice

To pluck a weed you fancied!

Ordonio (with embarrassment and hesitation). Why -that-Lady

Isi. 'Tis now three years, my Lord, since last J saw you.

Have you a son, my Lord?

Ord.

O miserable

[Aside

Isidore! you are a man, and know mankind.
I told you what I wish'd-now for the truth!—
She lov'd the man you kill'd.

Isidore (looking as suddenly alarmed). You jest, my Lord!

Ord. And till his death is proved, she will not

wed me.

Isi. You sport with me, my Lord!

Ord. Come, come! this foolery Lives only in thy looks: thy heart disowns it! Isi. I can bear this, and any thing more grievous 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— Isi. 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, 't is true:
Her lover school'd her in some newer nonsense!

Yet still a tale of spirits works upon her.
She is alone enthusiast, sensitive,

Shivers, and cannot 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.
Isi. Will that be a sure sign?

Ord.

Beyond suspicion.
Fondly caressing him, her favor'd lover

(By some base spell he had bewitch'd 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 unnoticed on them,
And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.

Isi. 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?

Isi. (with stammering).

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 honor of both
Must perish. Now, though with no tender scruples
Than those which being native to the heart,

Than those, my Lord, which merely being a man-

Ordonio (aloud, though to express his contempt he speaks in the third person).

This fellow is a Man-he kill'd 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 blunder'st through the book of guilt, Spelling thy villany.

Isi.

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 ay-your gratitude!

'Twas a well-sounding word-what have you done

with it?

Isi. Who proffers his past favours for

my

virtue

Virtue !

Ord. (with bitter scorn).

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

I knew not 't was your brother!

Ord. (ularmed).

Isi. He himself told me.

Ord.

And who told you?

Ha! you talked with him!

And those, the two Morescoes who were with you?

Isi. Both fell in a night-brawl at Malaga.

Ord. (in a low voice).

My brother

Isi. Yes, my Lord. I could not teli 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. Isi. My Lord, it much imports your future safety That you should hear it.

Ordonio (turning off from Isidore). Am ʻʼnot I a

man !

'Tis as it should be! tut-the deed itself

Was idle, and these after-pangs still idler !

Isi. We met him in the very place you mention'd. Hard by a grove of firs

Ord.

Enough-enough

Isi. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all; In fine, compell'd a parley.

Ord. (sighing as if lost in thought). Alvar! bro

ther!

Isi. He offer'd me his purse

Ord. (with eager suspicion). Yes?

Isi. (indignantly)

Yes-I spurn'd it.—

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 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 ask'd 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 's 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

Ay, 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.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »