The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 14

_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 hoa.r.s.er 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 anguis.h.!.+

_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 embarra.s.sed, 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 f.a.ggots.

The Inquisition--hey? You understand me, And you are poor. Now I have wealth and power, Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty.

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.