Ordonio (as he advances with Valdez). These are the dungeon keys. Monviedro knew not,
That I too had received the wizard's message,
'He that can bring the dead to life again.'
But now he is satisfied, I plann'd this scheme
To work a full conviction on the culprit, 60
And he entrusts him wholly to my keeping.

Valdez. 'Tis well, my son! But have you yet discovered
(Where is Teresa?) what those speeches meant—
Pride, and hypocrisy, and guilt, and cunning?
Then when the wizard fix'd his eye on you, [65]
And you, I know not why, look'd pale and trembled—
Why—why, what ails you now?—

Ordonio. Me? what ails me?
A pricking of the blood—It might have happen'd
At any other time.—Why scan you me?

Valdez. His speech about the corse, and stabs and murderers, [70]
Bore reference to the assassins——

Ordonio. Dup'd! dup'd! dup'd!
The traitor, Isidore! [A pause, then wildly.
I tell thee, my dear father!
I am most glad of this.

Valdez. True—sorcery
Merits its doom; and this perchance may guide us
To the discovery of the murderers. 75
I have their statures and their several faces
So present to me, that but once to meet them
Would be to recognize.

Ordonio. Yes! yes! we recognize them.
I was benumb'd, and staggered up and down
Through darkness without light—dark—dark—dark! [80]
My flesh crept chill, my limbs felt manacled
As had a snake coil'd round them!—Now 'tis sunshine,
And the blood dances freely through its channels! [Then to himself.
This is my virtuous, grateful Isidore!
[Then mimicking Isidore's manner and voice.
'A common trick of gratitude, my lord!' 85
[[855]] Old Gratitude! a dagger would dissect
His 'own full heart'—'twere good to see its colour.

Valdez. These magic sights! O that I ne'er had yielded
To your entreaties! Neither had I yielded,
But that in spite of your own seeming faith [90]
I held it for some innocent stratagem,
Which love had prompted, to remove the doubts
Of wild Teresa—by fancies quelling fancies!

Ordonio. Love! love! and then we hate! and what? and wherefore?
Hatred and love! fancies opposed by fancies! 95
What? if one reptile sting another reptile?
Where is the crime? The goodly face of nature
Hath one disfeaturing stain the less upon it.
Are we not all predestined transiency,
And cold dishonour? Grant it, that this hand [100]
Had given a morsel to the hungry worms
Somewhat too early—Where's the crime of this?
That this must needs bring on the idiotcy
Of moist-eyed penitence—'tis like a dream!

Valdez. Wild talk, my son! But thy excess of feeling—— [105]
Almost I fear it hath unhinged his brain.