Psychologies by Sir Ross Ronald (the gingerbread man read aloud txt) 📖

in the poison’d night;

Not like a victim of the shuddering dark;

But front to front with anger in his eyes,

And arm’d to smite again. Triumph!

(Tempest. They raise their arms.)

Ostyn. And arm’d to smite again. Triumph!He died!

Theodora.He perisht!

Ostyn. Theodora.He perisht!Let the world triumph!

Theodora. Ostyn. Theodora.He perisht!Let the world triumph!Let it shout!

Ostyn.Hear us, O God of Wrath!

Theodora. Ostyn.Hear us, O God of Wrath!O God of Love,

Hear us, Thy children, and forgive!

(They rise.)

Ostyn. Hear us, Thy children, and forgive!My friend,

You weep—altho’ we triumph. That must be,

Alas! But wipe this horror from you now,

Nor let it ache for ever, like some despair

Whose secret hamper to the soul we feel

But name not. Wipe it from you—like this blood,

Which thus I purge from off th’ untarnisht steel

Once and for all. Come, we must take the time,

And move. The servants of that evil man

Will seek him. Yonder too another storm,

Ere yet the trees have shed their scope of tears,

Stands muttering in the zenith. Come then, friend.

I have an aged cousin living in the city,

And she will shelter you. As for myself—

If’t please you that I may remain with you,

Your servant, I’d be glad indeed. That once

I loved you ere you wedded (and do still),

If such a poor humpt creature as myself

Dare call his sighing love, will not disgust you

Who know it—for I never have conceal’d it.

You are the noblest woman in the world;

But my poor love is such a thing to laugh at,

You need not heed it. Now you are alone,

I may indeed give up my life to you

And be your servant.

(The tempest pauses. Silence.)

Theodora. And be your servant.Your sword is clean, you say,

But look upon those startled flowers there,

Those innocent flowers—what smearèd stains of death

Would make them seeming-guilty. What have they done?

Not they have pierced a man’s heart, poor white things,

That yet look unwasht murd’rers; while the sword

Gleams icy pure, like some fire-eyèd angel

New-born in Heaven.

Ostyn. New-born in Heaven.What of it?

Theodora. Ostyn. New-born in Heaven.What of it?I am the sword;

You are the flowers. The load of guilt I had

Is smear’d on you, who to your dying day

Shall wear such stains no rain of mercy ever

Can wash from off you.

Ostyn. Can wash from off you.What guilt?

Theodora. Ostyn. Can wash from off you.What guilt?The guilt I had,

But like the noblest woman of the world

Have smear’d upon another.

Ostyn. Have smear’d upon another.I do not take you.

Theodora.My friend, I should have done the deed alone,

Or let him kill me!

Ostyn. Or let him kill me!That would have been clear murder.

Now, he being slain in combat, we are pure.

Theodora.Reason acquits me, but my heart is sour.

Ostyn.Except one thing, I laugh at it.

Theodora. Ostyn.Except one thing, I laugh at it.What is that?

Ostyn.Oh nothing—no matter.

Theodora. Ostyn.Oh nothing—no matter.Tell me, friend.

Ostyn. Theodora. Ostyn.Oh nothing—no matter.Tell me, friend.Oh leave it.

The thing is done—what matter.

Theodora. The thing is done—what matter.Except what thing?

Ostyn.This, that you toucht his arm. That was not wise,

And lends some colour to peevish conscience.

Tho’ huncht and small, believe it I am strong;

And sober-blooded; tuned with exercise

Which ever to ennoble this frail form

I have used. Single, I knew myself his match.

You needed not have toucht him.

Theodora. You needed not have toucht him.He was a soldier.

Ostyn.Rather for that I scorned him.

Theodora. Ostyn.Rather for that I scorned him.I fear’d for you.

Ostyn.Did I not wound him ere you toucht his arm?

I saw it in his eye he dreaded me—

As venomous-narrow’d as a guilty moon

Shrinking against the sunrise.

Theodora. Shrinking against the sunrise.Was that murder,

To touch his arm?

Ostyn. To touch his arm?No, truly, I would have kill’d him

Anyway.

Theodora.Oh, oh!

Ostyn. Theodora.Oh, oh!You noble woman, cease!

Let not your heart be weaker than your mind.

It is a curse to have a heart that boils

When reason bids be calm.

Theodora. When reason bids be calm.Is reason in it?

Ostyn.Yes, yes.

Theodora. Ostyn.Yes, yes.Where does the reason dwell then—here,

Or here?

Ostyn. Or here?  Come, my dear mistress, this is vain.

You work yourself to it.

(She looks around.)

Theodora. You work yourself to it.Where is the wind that blew?

What is this silence?—Ah! I dare not speak!

Each leaf here hangs its head at seeing me.

Ostyn.’Tis but the hush before another storm.

Look there, how thund’rous black it comes upon us.

Theodora.Hush, hush, hush. O forever

Henceforth to hush, to whisper in secret, lest

All things may hear and hang their heads at me!

Ostyn.Now, now!

Theodora. Ostyn.Now, now!O God, my children, my children!

Ostyn. Theodora. Ostyn.Now, now!O God, my children, my children!There.

God is their Father now.

Theodora. God is their Father now.Their father’s dead.

Ostyn.Come, come; give me your hands. You are atremble.

Why do you stare about you so?—till now

As tall and tearless as some Roman dame

Who flincht not ever? He fell in fight I say—

Full fair (would I had run him thro’ and thro’

A dozen times). Fear not. The town is close,

And that dead tiger’s dogs will never dare

To hunt you in it. This little storm will pass.

Look how the dull face of the forest mere

Whitens beneath th’ approaching rain. Come now;

Here is a hollow-hearted tree will hide you.

Best safety lies in hollow-heartedness—

The full heart bursts the sooner. Presently

There will be thunder, sure. You will not fear it?

Come, keep your spirit firmer. I believe

The thunder sets a sign twixt fools and wise,

Since only fools do fear it. Come now, arise.

Seek shelter here. You have no cloak with you.

Theodora.What feet are these I hear stealing around me?

(Large raindrops fall.)

Ostyn.Feet!—raindrops sure; rain on the russet bracken.

Theodora.What spirits are those yonder that smite their brows

With horror?

Ostyn.Spirits?

Theodora. Ostyn.Spirits?Where he lieth dead.

Ostyn.Ah, trees on th’ other shore of this most wild

And desolate mere. Mark you the coming storm

Has not yet reacht us quite; but there he rages.

The shrieking trees grow ashen in their fear,

Like spirits—yes. But now enough of this.

You must be still. (Great God! She’s woman again!)

Here is my cloak. Come, let us move. (Great God!

What if it thunders?) There, I’ll hold your hands.

I think the thunder comes; but what of that?

Poor rumbling thunder, threats of empty clouds!

I love it, foolish thunder. (She is wild!)

(Thunder.)

Theodora.Away! Help, help! Smite me not black, O Heaven!

Hide in the wood—it is too open here!

Murder!

Ostyn. ’Tis only I who hold you, dear!

Theodora.They murder me—Heaven murders me!

Away!

Ostyn. You’ll fall!

Theodora. Ostyn. You’ll fall!God’s thunder smites me black!

Oh, oh!

Ostyn.The water draws her.

Theodora. Ostyn.The water draws her.He walks upon the water.

There is a cavern in his breast—there, there!

A crimson cavern in his breast he points at.

It is my husband. Let me go. My husband.

No, no, no. It is he.

Ostyn. No, no, no. It is he.Alas!

Theodora.My children, my children.

Ostyn. Theodora.My children, my children.Heaven, she is dying.

The heart breaks. Look, how pale.

(She dies in his arms.)

(The storm ceases.)

Thou wert too noble for the world, sweet woman,

In thinking thyself too base. No more for me

My wakeful watches for her holy sake,

And vision’d vigils under sleepless stars

Against the world. I conquer’d—yet she died.

The goings of my life are barr’d by this,

And this pale body at my threshold lies

For ever; therefore I must close the door

And end. Would it be too much sacrilege,

Once ere I die, to open this white throat

And kiss it where the shapely column springs?

Or these dead hands? Or this death-smoothèd brow,

Where sat thy soul serene? O, in that fashion

The boy dream’d to have held thee, the man holds

And dies. Enough to’ve held thee dead, and die.

(He gathers the body in his arms.)

Thou sawest thy lord walk on the waters there.

Come, I will take thee to him.

(He wades into the mere.)

Come, I will take thee to him.Spirit, hear!

I bring thee to thy children and thy lord.

(They sink under the water.)

(The rain falls.)

EVIL