Untitled

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! 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-- 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, 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-- 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 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.

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; Manhood has swell'd my chest, and taught my voice A hoarser 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!

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.

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 anguish!

Osorio (returning). All very curious! from a ruin'd abbey Pluck'd in the moonlight. There's a strange power in weeds 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!

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 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!

Osorio (draws back as if stung and embarrassed, 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, Nor a black dungeon, nor a fire of faggots. 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 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.' 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 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 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! 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 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? 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? 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 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, 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 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-- 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. What say you now?

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

Osorio. Delays are dangerous. It shall be to-morrow 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-- 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? 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 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, 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.

[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!

END OF ACT THE SECOND.