Osorio. Where should I get her portrait?
Velez. Get her portrait?
Portrait? You mean the picture! At the painter's—
No difficulty then—but that you lit upon
A fellow that could play the sorcerer, 160
With such a grace and terrible majesty,
It was most rare good fortune. And how deeply
He seem'd to suffer when Maria swoon'd,
And half made love to her! I suppose you'll ask me
Why did he so?
Osorio (with deep tones of suppressed agitation). Ay, wherefore did he so? 165
Velez. Because you bade him—and an excellent thought!
A mighty man, and gentle as he is mighty.
He'll wind into her confidence, and rout
A host of scruples—come, confess, Osorio!
Osorio. You pierce through mysteries with a lynx's eye, 170
In this, your merry mood! you see it all!
Velez. Why, no!—not all. I have not yet discover'd,
At least, not wholly, what his speeches meant.
Pride and hypocrisy, and guilt and cunning—
Then when he fix'd his obstinate eye on you, 175
And you pretended to look strange and tremble.
Why—why—what ails you now?
Osorio (with a stupid stare). Me? why? what ails me?
A pricking of the blood—it might have happen'd
At any other time. Why scan you me?
Velez (clapping him on the shoulder). 'Twon't do—'twon't do—I have lived too long in the world. 180
His speech about the corse and stabs and murderers,
Had reference to the assassins in the picture:
That I made out.
Osorio (with a frantic eagerness). Assassins! what assassins!
Velez. Well-acted, on my life! Your curiosity
Runs open-mouth'd, ravenous as winter wolf. 185
I dare not stand in its way. [He shows Osorio the picture.