view

A specious face of innocence and beauty. With such smooth looks and many a gentle word,

The first fair she beguil'd her easy lord;
Too blind with love and beauty to beware,
He fell unthinking in the fatal snare;
Nor could believe that such a heavenly face
Had bargain'd with the devil, to damn her
wretched race.
[Exit.
SCENE II-The Garden of SCIOLTO's Palace.

Enter LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.

Loth. To tell thee then the purport of my thoughts;

The loss of this fond paper would not give me
A moment of disquiet, were it not
My instrument of vengeance on this Altamont;
Therefore I mean to wait some opportunity
Of speaking with the maid we saw this morn-
ing.

Ros. I wish you, Sir, to think upon the danger ['em; Of being seen; to-day their friends are round And any eye that lights by chance on you, Shall put your life and safety to the hazard.

Enter HORATIO.

[Exeunt.

Hor. Still I must doubt some mystery of mischief,

Some artifice beneath. Lothario's father!
I knew him well; he was sagacious, cunning,
Fluent in words, and bold in peaceful counsels,
But of a cold, unactive hand in war;
Yet with these coward's virtues, he undid
My unsuspecting, valiant, honest friend.
This son, if fame mistakes not, is more hot,
More open and unartful—

Re-enter LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.

Ha! he's here! [Seeing him. Loth. Damnation! he again!-This second

time To-day he has cross'd me like my evil genius. Hor. I sought you, Sir.

Loth. "Tis well then I am found.
Hor. 'Tis well you are.

wrongs my friend

The man who

As great a name as this proud city boasts of. Who is this mighty man, then, this Horatio, That I should basely hide me from his anger, Lest he should ch.de me for his friend's displeasure?

Hor. The brave, 'tis true, do never shun the light; [tempers, Just are their thoughts, and open are their Still are they found in the fair face of day, And heaven and men are judges of their actions.

Loth. Such let 'em be of mine; there's not

a purpose

Which my soul e'er fram'd, or my hand acted, But I could well have bid the world look on, And what I once durst do, have dar'd to justify.

Hor. Where was this open boldness, this When but this very morning I surpris'd thee, free spirit, In base dishonest privacy, consulting And bribing a poor mercenary wretch, To sell her lady's secrets, stain her honour, And, with a forg'd contrivance, blast her At sight of me thou fled'st. [virtue?

Loth. Ha! fled from thee?

Hor. Thou fled'st, and guilt was on thee like a thief,

A pilferer, descried in some dark corner,
Who there had lodg'd, with mischievous in-
tent,

To rob and ravage at the hour of rest,
And do a midnight murder on the sleepers.
Loth. Slave! villain! [Offers to draw.

Ros. Hold, my lord! think where you are,
Think how unsafe and hurtful to your honour
It were to urge a quarrel in this place,
And shock the peaceful city with a broil.

Loth. Then, since thou dost provoke my vengeance, know

I would not, for this city's wealth, for all
Which the sea wafts to our Ligurian shore,
But that the joys I reap'd with that fond wan-
ton,

The wife of Altamont, should be as public
As is the noon-day sun, air, earth, or water,
Or any common benefit of nature. [conceal'd?
Think'st thou I meant that shame should be
Oh, no! by hell and vengeance, all I wanted
Was some fit messenger, to bear the news
To the dull doting husband: now I have
found him,
And thou art he.

Hor. I hold thee base enough

To break through law, and spurn at sacred
And do a brutal injury like this. [order,
Yet mark me well, young lord, I think Calista
Too nice, too noble, and too great of soul,
To be the prey of such a thing as thou art.
"Twas base and poor, unworthy of a man,
To forge a scroll so villanous and loose,
And mark it with a noble lady's name:
These are the mean, dishonest arts of cowards,
Who, bred at home in idleness and riot,
Ransack for mistresses th' unwholesome stews,
And never know the worth of virtuous love.
Loth. Think'st thou I forg'd the letter?
Think so still,
Till the broad shame come staring in thy face,
And boys shall hoot the cuckold as he passes.
Hor. Away! no woman could descend so

low.

A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are; Fit only for yourselves, you herd together; And when the circling glass warms your vain hearts,

You talk of beauties that you never saw,

Among your set of fools, talk of your dress, Of dice, of whores, of horses, and yourselves; 'Tis safer, and becomes your understandings. Loth. What if we pass beyond this solemn order,

And, in defiance of the stern Horatio,
Indulge our gayer thoughts, let laughter loose,
And use his sacred friendship for our mirth?
Hor. 'Tis well, Sir, you are pleasant-
Loth. By the joys

Which my soul yet has uncontrol'd pursu❜d,
I would not turn aside from my least pleasure,
Though all thy force were arm'd to bar my
[moners,
way;

But like the birds, great nature's happy comThat haunt in woods, in meads, and flowery gardens,

Rifle the sweets and taste the choicest fruits,
Yet scorn to ask the lordly owner's leave.
Hor. What liberty has vain presumptuous
youth,
[tis'd?
That thou shouldst dare provoke me unchas-
But henceforth, boy, I warn thee, shun my
walks.

If in the bounds of this forbidden place
Again thou'rt found, expect a punishment,
Such as great souls, impatient of an injury,
Exact from those who wrong 'em much; even
death,

Or something worse: an injur'd husband's vengeance

Shall print a thousand wounds, tear thy fine form,

And scatter thee to all the winds of heaven.
Loth. Is then my way in Genoa prescrib'd
By a dependent on the wretched Altamont?
A talking Sir, that brawls for him in taverns,
And vouches for his valour's reputation?
Hor. Away! thy speech is fouler than thy

Exert your influence; shine strongly for me;
"Tis not a common conquest I would gain,
Since love as well as arms must grace my
triumph.
[Exeunt LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.
Hor. Two hours ere noon to-morrow! ha!
ere that

He sees Calista! Oh, unthinking fool-
What if I urg'd her with the crime and danger?
If any spark from heaven remain unquench'd
Within her breast, my breath perhaps may
wake it.

Could I but prosper there, I would not doubt
My combat with that loud vainglorious boas-

ter.

Were you, ye fair, but cautious whom ye trust,
Did you but think how seldom fools are just,
So many of your sex would not in vain
Of broken vows, and faithless men, complain;
Of all the various wretches love has made,
How few have been by men of sense betray'd?
Convinc'd by reason, they your power confess,
Pleas'd to be happy, as you're pleas'd to bless,
And, conscious of your worth, can never love
you less.
[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE 1.-An Apartment in SCIOLTO'S
Palace.

Enter SCIOLTO and CALISTA.

Sci. Now, hy my life, my honour, 'tis too much!

Have I not mark'd thee, wayward as thou art,
Perverse and sullen all this day of joy?
When every heart was cheer'd, and mirth went
round,

Sorrow, displeasure, and repining anguish,
Sat on thy brow.

Cal. Is then the task of duty half perform❜d? Has not your daughter given herself to Altamont,

Yielded the native freedom of her will
To an imperious husband's lordly rule,
To gratify a father's stern command?
Sei. Dost thou complain?

Cal. For pity, do not frown then,

If, in despite of all my vow'd obedience, A'sigh breaks out, or a tear falls by chance: For, oh! that sorrow which has drawn your

to it,

[Exit SCIOLTO. Cal. How hard is the condition of our sex. Through every state of life the slaves of man! In all the dear delightful days of youth, A rigid father dictates to our wills, And deals out pleasure with a scanty hand. To his, the tyrant husband's reign succeeds; Proud with opinion of superior reason, He holds domestic business and devotion All we are capable to know, and shuts us, Like cloister'd idiots, from the world's acquaintance, [we And all the joys of freedom. Wherefore are Born with high souls, but to assert ourselves, Shake off this vile obedience they exact, And claim an equal empire o'er the world?

Enter HORATIO.

Hor. She's here! yet, ho! my tongue is at a
loss;
[speech,
Teach me, some power, that happy art of
To dress my purpose up in gracious words;
Such as may softly steal upon her soul,
And never waken the tempestuous passions.
By heaven she weeps!-Forgive me, fair
Calista,

If I presume, on privilege of friendship,
To join my grief to yours, and mourn the evils
That hurt your peace, and quench those eyes
in tears.

Cal. To steal, unlook'd for, on my private sorrow,

Speaks not the man of honour, nor the friend, But rather means the spy.

Hor. Unkindly said!

For, oh! as sure as you accuse me falsely,
I come to prove myself Calista's friend.

Cal. You are my husband's friend, the friend of Altamont!

Hor. Are you not one? Are you not join'd by heaven,

Each interwoven with the other's fate?
Then who can give his friendship but to one?
Who can be Altamont's, and not Calista's ?
Cal. Force, and the wills of our imperious
rulers,

May bind two bodies in one wretched chain; But minds will still look back to their own choice.

Hor. When souls, that should agree to will the same,

To have one common object for their wishes,
Look different ways, regardless of each other,
Think what a train of wretchedness ensues;
Love shall be banished from the genial bed,
The night shall be lonely and unquiet,
And every day shall be a day of cares.

Cal. Then all the boasted office of thy friendship,

Was but to tell Calista what a wretch she is. Alas! what needed that.

Her. Oh! rather say,

I came to tell her how she might be happy;
To sooth the secret anguish of her soul;
To comfort that fair mourner, that forlorn one,
And teach her steps to know the paths of
peace.

Cal. Say thou, to whom this paradise is known,

For oh! 'tis sure I long to be at rest.
Hor. Then to be good is to be happy-
Angels
[better.
Are happier than mankind, because they're
Guilt is the source of sorrow! 'tis the fiend,
Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind,
With whips and stings. The bless'd know none
of this,

But rest in everlasting peace of mind,
And find the height of all their heaven is
goodness.

Cal. And what bold parasite's officious tongue

Shall dare to tax Calista's name with guilt Hor. None should; but 'tis a busy talking

world, [wind, That with licentious breath blows, like the As freely on the palace as the cottage.

Cal. What mystic riddle lurks beneath thy

words,

Which thou wouldst seem unwilling to express,
As if it meant dishonour to my virtue?
Away with this ambiguous shuffling phrase,
And let thy oracle be understood.

Hor. Lothario!

me much;

For, on my soul, nothing but strong necessity
Could urge my tongue to this ungrateful office.
I came with strong reluctance, as if death
Had stood across my way, to save your honour,
Yours and Sciolto's, yours and Altamont's;
Like one who ventures through a burning
pile,

To save his tender wife, with all her brood
Of little fondlings, from the dreadful ruin.

Cal. Is this the famous friend of Altamont,
For noble worth and deeds of arms renown'd?
Is this the tale-bearing officious fellow,
That watches for intelligence from eyes?
This wretched Argus of a jealous husband,
That fills his easy ears with monstrous tales,
And makes him toss, and rave, and wreak at

length

Bloody revenge on his defenceless wife,
Who guiltless dies, because her fool ran mad?
Hor. Alas! this rage is vain; for if your

fame

[calm, Or peace be worth your care, you must be And listen to the means are left to save 'em. "Tis now the lucky minute of your fate. [you, By me your genius speaks, by me it warns Never to see that curs'd Lothario more; Unless you mean to be despis'd, be shunn'd, By all our virtuous maids and noble matrons; Unless you have devoted this rare beauty To infamy, diseases, prostitution

Cal. Dishonour blast thee, base, unmanner'd slave!

That dar'st forget my birth, and sacred sex,

sound!

Hor. Here kneel, and in the awful face of heaven

Breathe out a solemn vow, never to see,
Nor think, if possible, on him that ruin'd thee;
Or, by my Altamont's dear life, I swear,
This paper; nay, you must not fly-This paper,
This guilty paper shall divulge your shame.
Cal. What mean'st thou by that paper?
What contrivance

Hast thou been forging to deceive my father; To turn his heart against his wretched daughter;

That Altamont and thou may share his wealth? A wrong like this will make me even forget The weakness of my sex.-Oh, for a sword, To urge my vengeance on the villain's head That forg'd the scroll!

Hor. Behold! Can this be forg'd? See where Calista's name

[Showing the letter near. Cal. To atoms thus, [Tearing it. Thus let me tear the vile, detested falsehood, The wicked, lying evidence of shame.

Cal. Turn to him.

Alt. Horatio!

Cal. To that insolent.

Alt. My friend!

Could he do this? Have I not found him just, Honest as truth itself? and could he break The sanctity of friendship? Could he wound The heart of Altamont in his Calista?

Cal. I thought what justice I should find
from thee!

Go fawn upon him, listen to his tale,
Thou art perhaps confederate in his mischief,
And wilt believe the legend, if he tells it.
Alt. Oh, impious! what presumptuous
wretch shall dare

To offer at an injury like that?
Priesthood, nor age, nor cowardice itself,
Shall save him from the fury of my vengeance.
Cal. The man who dar'd to do it was
Horatio;

Thy darling friend; 'twas Altamont's Horatio,
But mark me well; while thy divided heart
Dotes on a villain that has wrong'd me thus,
No force shall drag me to thy hated bed.
Nor can my cruel father's power do more
Than shut me in a cloister: there, well pleas'd,
Religious hardships will I learn to bear,
To fast and freeze at midnight hours of prayer:
Nor think it hard, within a lonely cell,
With melancholy speechless saints to dwell;
But bless the day to that refuge ran,
Free from the marriage chain, and from that
tyrant, man.
[Exit.
Alt. She's gone; and as she went, ten thou-
sand fires

Shot from her angry eyes; as if she meant

Now, as thou art a man, Horatio, tell me, What means this wild confusion in thy looks; As if thou wert at variance with thyseif, Madness and reason combating with thee, And thou wert doubtful which should get the

better?

Hor. I would be dumb for ever; but thy fate Has otherwise decreed it. Thou hast seen That idol of thy soul, that fair Calista; Thou hast beheld her tears.

Alt. I have seen her weep;

I have seen that lovely one, that dear Calista,
Complaining, in the bitterness of sorrow,
That thou, my friend Horatio, thou hast
wrong'd her.

Hor. That I have wrong'd her! Had her eyes been fed

From the rich stream which warms her heart, and number'd

For every falling tear a drop of blood, [thee, It had not been too much; for she has ruin'd Even thee, my Altamont. She has undone

thee.

Hor. A blow! thou hast us'd me well

[Draws. Alt. This to thy heartHor. Yet hold-By heaven his father's in his face! [tenderness, Spite of my wrongs, my heart runs o'er with And I could rather die myself than hurt him. Alt. Defend thyself; for by my muchwrong'd love,

I swear, the poor evasion shall not save thee.
Hor. Yet hold-thou know'st, I dare.
[They fight.
Enter LAVINIA, who runs between their swords.
Lav. My brother, my Horatio! Is it possible?
Oh, turn your cruel swords upon Lavinia.
If you must quench your impious rage in blood,
Behold, my heart shall give you all her store,
To save those dearer streams that flow from

yours.

Alt. "Tis well thou hast found a safeguard; none but this, [fury. No power on earth, could save thee from my Hor. Safety from thee!

Away, vain boy! Hast thou forgot the rev'rence Due to my arm, thy first, thy great example, Which pointed out thy way to noble daring, And show'd thee what it was to be a man? Lar. What busy, meddling fiend, what foe to goodness,

Could kindle such a discord?

Hor. Ask'st thou what made us foes? "Twas base ingratitude, [mercy, Twas such a sin to friendship, as heaven's That strives with man's untoward, monstrous wickedness, [don. Unwearied with forgiving, scarce could parHe who was all to me, child, brother, friend, With barb'rous bloody malice, sought my life. Alt. Thou art my sister, and I would not make thee.

Lav. Stay, Altamont, my brother, stay! Alt. It cannot, sha'not be-you must not hold me.

Lat. Look kindly, then.

Alt. Each minute that I stay, Is a new injury to fair Calista. From thy false friendship, to her arms I'll fly; Then own, the joys which on her charms attend, [friend. Have more than paid me for my faithless [Breaks from LAVINIA, and exit. Hor. Oh, raise thee, my Lavinia, from the earth.

It is too much; this time of flowing grief,
This wondrous waste of tears, too much to give
To an ungrateful friend, and cruel brother.
Lav. Is there not cause for weeping? Oh,
Horatio!

A brother and a husband were my treasure,
"Twas all the little wealth that poor Lavinia
Sav'd from the shipwreck of her father's for-
tunes.

mont,

One half is lost already. If thou leav'st me,
If thou shouldst prove unkind to me, as Alta-
Whom shall I find to pity my distress,
To have compassion on a helpless wanderer,
And give her where to lay her wretched head?
Hor. Why dost thou wound me with thy
soft complainings?

Though Altamont be false, and use me hardly,
Yet think not I impute his crimes to thee.
Talk not of being forsaken; for I'll keep thee
Next to my heart, my certain pledge of happi-

thee,

My country, brother, friends, even all I have.
Though mine's a little all, yet were it more,
And better far, it should be left for thee,
And all that I would keep should be Horatio.
So, when a merchant sees his vessel lost,
Though richly freighted from a foreign coast,
Gladly, for life, the treasure he would give,
And only wishes to escape and live:
Gold and his gains no more employ his mind;
But, driving o'er the billows with the wind,
Cleaves to one faithful plank, and leaves the
rest behind.
[Exeunt.

Laugh in thy eyes, and revel in thy heart,
Kindle again his torch, and hold it high,
To light us to new joys. Nor let a thought
Of discord, or disquiet past, molest thee;
But to a long oblivion give thy cares,

warn him,

No more to know this hospitable roof.
He has but ill repaid Sciolto's bounty.
We must not meet; 'tis dangerous. Farewell.
[He is going, LAVINIA helds him.

Q