Maria. What might your crime be?

Alhadra. Solely my complexion.
They cast me, then a young and nursing mother,
Into a dungeon of their prison house.
There was no bed, no fire, no ray of light, [210]
No touch, no sound of comfort! The black air,
[[528]] It was a toil to breathe it! I have seen
The gaoler's lamp, the moment that he enter'd,
How the flame sunk at once down to the socket.
O miserable, by that lamp to see [215]
My infant quarrelling with the coarse hard bread
Brought daily: for the little wretch was sickly—
My rage had dry'd away its natural food!
In darkness I remain'd, counting the clocks[528:1]
Which haply told me that the blessed sun [220]
Was rising on my garden. When I dozed,
My infant's moanings mingled with my dreams
And wak'd me. If you were a mother, Lady,
I should scarce dare to tell you, that its noises
And peevish cries so fretted on my brain [225]
That I have struck the innocent babe in anger!

Maria. O God! it is too horrible to hear!

Alhadra. What was it then to suffer? 'Tis most right
That such as you should hear it. Know you not
What Nature makes you mourn, she bids you heal? [230]
Great evils ask great passions to redress them,
And whirlwinds fitliest scatter pestilence.

Maria. You were at length deliver'd?

Alhadra. Yes, at length
I saw the blessed arch of the whole heaven.
'Twas the first time my infant smiled! No more. [235]
For if I dwell upon that moment, lady,
A fit comes on, which makes me o'er again
All I then was, my knees hang loose and drag,
And my lip falls with such an ideot laugh
That you would start and shudder!

Maria. But your husband? [240]

Alhadra. A month's imprisonment would kill him, lady!

Maria. Alas, poor man!

Alhadra. He hath a lion's courage,
[[529]] But is not stern enough for fortitude.
Unfit for boisterous times, with gentle heart
He worships Nature in the hill and valley, [245]
Not knowing what he loves, but loves it all!