Enter Alfonso, Inis, and Attendants.
Inis. This is the hermit's cave; and see, my liege, Orsino's self.
Alfon. [Starting back.] No, no, that living spectre
Is not my gallant friend. I seek in vain
The full cheek's healthful glow, the eye of fire,
The martial mein, proud gait, and limbs Herculean!
Oh! is that deathlike form indeed Orsino?
Orsi. Never to see them more! never, no never!
Wife, child, joy, hope, all gone!
Alfon. That voice! Oh! Heaven,
Too well I know that voice!—How grief has changed him!
I'll speak, yet dread——Retire [Inis, &c. withdraw.] Look up Orsino.
Orsi. Discovered?
[Seizing a lance which rests against the cavern, and putting himself in a posture of defence]
Wretch, thy life—[Staggering back.] Strengthen me, heaven!
'Tis he? the king himself!
Alfon. [Offering to take his hand.]
Thy friend!
Orsi. [Recovering himself, and drawing back his hand.]
Friend! Friend!——
I've none!— [Coldly.]
Alfon. Orsino.
Orsi. Never had but one,
And he—! Sir, though a king, you'd shrink to hear
How that friend used me!
Alfon. Hear me speak, in pity!
Orsi. What need of words? I'm found, I'm in your power,
And you may torture me e'en how you list.
Where are your chains? these are the self-same arms
Which bore them ten long years, nor doubt their weighing
Heavy as ever! These same eyes, which bathed
So oft with bitterest tears your dungeon-grate,
Have streams not yet exhausted! and these lips
Can still with shrieks make the Black Tower re-echo,
Which heard my voice so long in frantic anguish
Rave of my wife and child, and curse Alfonso!
Lead on, Sir! I'm your prisoner!
Alfon. Not for worlds
Would I but harm one hair of thine!—Nay, hear me!
And learn, most wronged Orsino, thy clear innocence
Is now well known to all.
Orsi. Ay? Nay, I care not
Who thinks me innocent! I know myself so—
Was this your business, Sir? 'Tis done! Farewell.
Alfon. Oh! part not from me thus! I fain would say——
Orsi. What?
Alfon. I have wronged thee!——
Orsi. [Sternly] True!
Alfon. Deeply, most deeply!
But wounding thine, hurt my own heart no less,
Where none has filled thy place: 'tis thine, still thine—
And if my court——
Orsi. What should I there? No, no, Sir!
Sorrow has crazed my wits; long cramped by fetters
My arm sinks powerless; and my wasted limbs,
Palsied by dungeon-damps, would bend and totter
Beneath yon armour's weight, once borne so lightly!
Then what should I at court? I cannot head
Your troops, nor guide your councils; leave me, leave me,
You cannot use me further!
Alfon. Oh! I must,
And to a most dear service—my heart bleeds,
And needs a friend! Be but that friend once more!
Be to me what thou wert, (and that was all things!)
Forgive my faults, forget thy injuries——
Orsi. [Passionately.] Never!
Alfon. That to Alfonso? That to him whose friendship——
Orsi. Peace, peace! You felt no friendship! felt no flame,
Steady and strong!—Yours was a vain light vapour,
A boyish fancy, a caprice, a habit,
A bond you wearied of, and gladly seized
A lame pretext to break. Did not my heart
From earliest youth lie naked to your eyes?
Knew you not every comer, nerve, turn, twist on't?
And could you still suspect——? No, no! You wished
To find me false, or must have known me true.
Alfon. You wrong me, on my life! So fine, so skilful
The snare was spread——I knew not——
Orsi. Knew not? Knew not?
Thou knew'st I was Orsino! Knowing that,
Thou should'st have known, I never could be guilty.
Alfon. Proofs seemed so strong——
Orsi. And had I none to prove
My innocence? these deep-hewn scars received
While fighting in your cause, were these no proofs?
Your life twice saved by me! your very breath
My gift! your crown oft rescued by my valour!
Were these no proofs! My every word, thought, action,
My spotless life, my rank, my pride, my honour,
And, more than all, the love I ever bore thee,
Were these no proofs?—Oh! they had been conviction
In a friend's eyes, though they were none in thine!
Alfon. Your pride? 'twas that undid me! your reserve,
Your silence——
Orsi. What! Should I have stooped to chase
Your brawling lawyers through their flaws and quibbles?
To bear the sneers of saucy questioners—
Their jests, their lies—and, when they termed me villain,
Calmly to cry—"Good Sirs, I'm none!"—No, no:
I heard myself called traitor—saw you calmly
Hear me so called, nor strike the speaker dead!
Then why defend myself? What hope was left me?
Truth lost its value, since you thought me false!
Speech had been vain, since your heart spoke not for me.
Alfon. And it did speak——Spite of the law's decision,
My love preserved your life——
Orsi. Oh! bounteous favour!
Oh! vast munificence! which, giving life,
Robbed me of every gem which made life precious!
Where is my wife? Distracted at my loss,
Sunk to her cold grave with a broken heart?
Where is my son? Or dead through want, or wandering
A friendless outcast! Where that health, that vigour,
Those iron nerves, once mine?—King, ask your dungeons!
Alfon. Oh! spare me!
Orsi. Give me these again, wife, son,
Health, strength, and ten most precious years of manhood,
And I'll perhaps forgive thee: till then, never!
Alfon. What could I do? thy son had been to me
Dear as my own, had not Victoria's pride,
Scorning all aid——
Orsi. 'Twas right!
Alfon. She fled, concealed
Herself and child——had it on me depended——
I cannot speak——My heart——Oh! yet have mercy,
Think I had other duties than a friend's——
Alas! I was a king!
Orsi. And are one still——
Have still your wealth, and pomp, and pride, and power,
And herd of cringing courtiers—still have children——
I had but one, and him I lost through thee.
I, I have nothing! Yon rude cave my palace,
These rocks my court, the wolf my fit companion—
Lost all life's blessings, wife, son, health! Oh! nothing
Is left me, save the right to hate that man
Who made me what I am!—And would'st thou rob me
E'en of this last poor pleasure? Go Sir! go,
Regain your court; resume your pomp and splendour!
Drink deep of luxury's cup! be gay, be flattered,
Pampered and proud, and, if thou canst, be happy.
I'll to my cave, and curse thee!
Alfon. Stay, Orsino!
If ever friendship warmed, or pity melted
Thy heart, I charge thee——
Orsi. Pity? In thy dungeons,
Sir, I forgot the meaning of that word.
For ten long years no gentle accents soothed me,
No tears with mine were mixed—no bosom sighed
That anguish tortured mine! King, king, thou know'st not,
How solitude makes the soul stern and savage!
Alfon. Yet were thy soul than adamantine rocks
More hard, these deep-drawn sighs——
Orsi. My wife's last groan
Rings in my ear, and drowns them.
Alfon. And these tears
Might touch thy heart——
Orsi. My heart is dead, King! dead!
'Tis yonder buried in Victoria's Grave!
Alfon. Could prayers, unfeigned remorse, ceaseless affection,
And influence as my own unbounded——
Orsi. Hold!
I'll try thee, and make two demands! But first,
Swear by all hopes of happiness hereafter,
And Heaven's best gift on earth, thine angel-daughter,
Whate'er I ask shall be fulfilled.
Alfon. I swear!
And Heaven so treat my prayers, as I shall thine.
Orsi. 'Tis well: now mark, and keep thine oath. My first
Request is—Leave me instantly! my second,
Ne'er let me see thee more.—Thou hast heard, begone! [Exit into the cave.
Alfon. 'Tis well, proud man,—Alas! my heart's too humbled
To chide e'en him who spurns it.
Inis. Nay my liege,
Despair not——Sure the princess.
Alfon. Right, I'll seek her;
To her he owes his freedom, and her prayers
Shall win me back this dear obdurate heart
Oh! did he know how sweet 'tis to forgive,
And raise the wounded soul, which, crushed and humbled
Sinks in the dust, and owns that it has erred:
To quench all wrath, and cancel all offences,
Sure he would need no motive but self love.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.——A garden.
Amel. [Alone] And are ye all then vanished, sylphs of bliss?
All fled in air, and not one trace, one shadow
Left of my bright day-visions? Is not rather
All this some fearful dream?——Cæsario false!
I know 'tis so, yet scarce can think 'tis so!
Gods! when last night, after long absence meeting,
What looks!—what joy!—and was then all deceit?
Did he but mock me, when with tears of rapture
He bathed my hand; knelt; sighed; as had his voice
By pleasure been o'erwhelmed, a while was silent;
But soon came words, sweet as those most sweet kisses
Which grateful Venus gave the swain whose care
Brought back her truant doves!—--So sweet, so sweet——
Distrust, herself, must have believed those words.
Oh! and was all but feigned?
Enter Cæsario and Estella.
Estella. Wait here awhile;
I'll try to sooth her.
Cæsa. My best friend!
Estel. Withdraw [Cæsario retires.
Still bathed in tears?
Amel. [Throwing herself on her bosom.] Oh! my soul's sick,
Estella.
My heart is broken, broken!
Estel. Nay, be calm!
I bring you comfort.
Amel. How?
Estel. Cæsario sues
For one short moment's audience.
Amel. I'll not see him.
Estel. Dear princess!
Amel. Never! saw I not Ottilia
Decked with my gift? did I not hear.——Shame! shame!
Go, go, Estella, see him! say, and firmly,
We meet no more! say, that the veil is rent!
Say, that I know him wavering, vain, ungrateful,
Flattering and false! and having said this, add,
False as he is, he's my soul's tyrant still!
Cæsa. [Throwing himself at her feet] Accents of Heaven!—my life! my love!
Amel. Cæsario?
Farewell forever!
Cæsa. Nay you must not leave me.
Hear me but speak.——
Amel. Release me!
Cæsa. But one word.—
Amel. I'll not be held!—Your pardon. I forgot sir!
I thought myself still mistress of my actions!
Still princess of Castile!—Now I remember
I'm that despised, unhappy thing, your wife!
Sir, I obey!—Your pleasure!
Cæsa. Oh! how lovely
Those eyes can make e'en scorn! yet calm their lightnings—
Once more let love.—
Amel. Never—the hours are past
When I believed thee all my fond heart wished;
Thought thee the best, the kindest, truest——thought thee——
Oh! Heaven! no Eastern tale portrays the palace
Of fay, or wizard (where in bright confusion
Blaze gold and gems) so glorious fair, as seemed,
Tricked in the rainbow-colours of my fancy,
Cæsario's form this morn:——Too late I know thee;
The spell is broke; and where an Houri smiled,
Now scowls a fiend. Oh! thus benighted pilgrims
Admire the glow-worm's light, while gloom prevails
But find that seeming lamp of fiery lustre
A poor dark worthless worm, when viewed in sunshine.
Away, and seek Ottilia.
Cæsa. Oh! my princess,
Deep as thy anger wounds my heart, more deeply
I grieve to think, how thine will bleed at finding
This anger undeserved.
Amel. Oh! that it were so,
But no! I saw my scarf——that very scarf——
My own hands wrought it.——Many a midnight lamp,
While thou wert at the wars, in toil I wasted,
And made it my sole joy to toil for thee,
There was no thread I had not blest! no flower
I had not kist a thousand times, and murmured
With every kiss a prayer for thy return,
And yet thou gav'st this sacred work to buy
A wanton's favours.——
Cæsa. Say, to buy her silence?
Amel. Her silence?
Cæsa. As this morn I left the palace,
She marked my flight.
Amel. Just heaven!
Cæsa. Though unrequited,
Her love has long been mine.—She raved; she threatened;
She would have vengeance; she would rouse the guards;
Alarm the king.——
Amel. [Shuddering.] My father!
Cæsa. But her silence
Bought by that scarf.—
Amel. Cæsario, could I trust thee?
Were this tale true, could I but think.—
Cæsa. I'll swear.
Amel. No! at the altar thou hast sworn already
Mine were thy hand and heart, and mine forever:
If thou canst break this oath, none else will bind thee——
Yet did I wrong thee? art thou true? I fain
Would think thee so.——But this fond heart, my husband,
Is such a weak sad thing and where it loves,
Loves so devoutly——Spare me, dear Cæsario,
Such fears in future; let no word, no thought,
Cloud thy pure faith, for so my soul dotes on thee,
But to suspect thee racks each nerve, and almost
Drives my brain mad,—Oh! could'st thou know, Cæsario,
How painful 'tis for one who loves like me,
To cease to love——Cease, said I?——No, my heart
Ceased to esteem, but never ceased to love thee.
[Falling on his neck.]