Are wasted all, and fled; those that remain Are doom'd to weeping, anguish, and repent

ance.

I come to charge thee with a long account
Of all the sorrows I have known already,
And all I have to come; thou hast undone me.
Loth. Unjust Calista dost thou call it ruin
To love as we have done; to melt, to languish,
To wish for somewhat exquisitely happy,
And then be bless'd even to that wish's height?
To die with joy, and straight to live again;
Speechless to gaze, and with tumultuous
transport-

Cal. Oh, let me hear no more; I cannot bear
it;

'Tis deadly to remembrance. Let that night, That guilty night, be blotted from the year; For 'twas the night that gave me up to shame, To sorrow, to the false Lothario.

Loth. Hear this, ye powers! mark, how the
fair deceiver

Sadly complains of violated truth;
She calls me false, even she, the faithless she,
Whom day and night, whom heaven and earth,
have heard

Sighing to vow, and tenderly protest,
Ten thousand times, she would be only mine;
And yet, behold, she has given herself away,
Fled from my arms, and wedded to another,
Even to the man whom most I hate on earth.-
Cal. Art thou so base to upbraid me with a
crime,

Which nothing but thy cruelty could cause?
If indignation, raging in my soul
For thy unmanly insolence and scorn,
Urg'd me to do a deed of desperation,
And wound myself to be reveng'd on thee,
Think whom I should devote to death and hell,
Whom curse as my undoer, but Lothario?
Hadst thou been just, not all Sciolto's power,
Not all the vows and prayers of sighing Alta-
mont,
[thee.
Could have prevail'd, or won me to forsake
Loth. How have I fail'd, in justice or in love?
Burns not my flame as brightly as at first?
Even now my heart beats high, I languish for
thee,

My transports are as fierce, as strong my
wishes,
[beauty.
As if thou ne'er hadst bless'd me with thy
Cal. How didst thou dare to think that I
would live

A slave to base desires and brutal pleasures,
To be a wretched wanton for thy leisure,
To toy and waste an hour of idle time with?
My soul disdains thee for so mean a thought.
Loth. The driving storm of passion will have
way,

And I must yield before it. Wert thou calm, Love, the poor criminal whom thou hast doom'd,

Has yet a thousand tender things to plead,
To charm thy rage, and mitigate his fate.

Enter ALTAMONT behind.

Not Altamont, but thou, hadst been my lord.
But wherefore nam'd I happiness with thee?
It is for thee, for thee, that I am curs'd;
For thee my secret soul each hour arraigns me,
Calls me to answer for my virtue stain'd,
My honour lost to thee: for thee it haunts me,
With stern Sciolto vowing vengeance on me,
With Altamont complaining for his wrongs
Alt. Behold him here-- [Coming forward. |

|

|

Declining droops, and all her fires grow pale;
Yet let not this advantage swell thy pride,
I conquer'd in my turn, in love I triumph'd.
Those joys are lodg'd beyond the reach of fate;
That sweet revenge comes smiling to my
thoughts,

Adorns my fall, and cheers my heart in dying. [bies.

Cal. And what remains for me, beset with shame, [is Encompass'd round with wretchedness? There But this one way to break the toil, and scape. [She catches up LOTHARIO's sword, and offers to kill herself; ALTAMONT wrests it from her.

Alt. What means thy frantic rage?
Cal. Off! let me go.

Alt. Oh! thou hast more than murder'd me;

yet still,

[horror, Still art thou here! and my soul starts with At thought of any danger that may reach thee. Cal. Think'st thou I mean to live? to be

forgiven?

Oh, thou hast known but little of Calista!
If thou hadst never heard my shame, if only
The midnight moon and silent stars had seen it,
I would not bear to be reproach'd by them,
But dig down deep to find a grave beneath,
And hide me from their beams.

Sci. [Within.] What, ho! my son!

Cal. Is it the voice of thunder, or my father ? Madness! Confusion ! let the storm come on, Let the tumultuous roar drive all upon me; Dash my devoted bark, ye surges, break it! "Tis for my ruin that the tempest rises. When I am lost, sunk to the bottom low, Peace shall return, and all be calm again. Enter SCIOLTO.

Sci. Even now Rossano leap'd the garden wall(fears ! Ha! death has been among you--Oh, my Last night thou hadst a diff'rence with thy friend, [one.

The cause thou gav'st me for it was a damn'd Didst thou not wrong the man who told thee Answer me quick

[truth? [tion

Alt. Oh! Press me not to speak ; Even now my heart is breaking, and the menWill lay me dead before you. See that body, And guess my shame! my ruin! Oh, Calista!

Sci. It is enough! but I am slow to execute, And justice lingers in my lazy hand; Thus let me wipe dishonour from my name, And cut thee from the earth, thou stain ́to goodness

[Offers to kill CALISTA; ALTAMONT holds him.

Alt. Stay thee, Sciolto, thou rash father,

stay,

Or turn the point on me, and through my breast

Cut out the bloody passage to Calista;
So shall my love be perfect, while for her
I die, for whom alone I wish'd to live.
Cal. No, Altamont; my heart, that scorn'd
thy love,

Shall never be indebted to thy pity.
Thus torn, defac'd, and wretched as I seem,
Still I have something of Sciolto's virtue.
Yes, yes, my father, I applaud thy justice;
Strike home, and I will bless thee for the
blow;

Be merciful, and free me from my pain;
'Tis sharp, 'tis terrible, and I could curse
The cheerful day, men, earth, and heaven,
and thee,

Even thee, thou venerable, good old man,
For being author to a wretch like me.

Sci. Tay pious care has given me time to
think,
[sword;
And sav'd me from a crime; then rest, my
To honour have I kept thee ever sacred,
Nor will I stain thee with a rash revenge.
But, mark me well, I will have justice done;
Hope not to bear away thy crimes unpunish'd:
I will see justice executed on thee,
Even to a Roman strictness; and thou, nature,
Or whatsoe'er thou art that plead'st within me,
Be still; thy tender strugglings are in vain.
Cal. Then am I doom'd to live, and bear
your triumph?
[braiding,
To groan beneath your scorn and fierce up-
Daily to be reproach'd, and have my misery
At morn, at noon, at night, told over to me?
Is this, is this, the mercy of a father?
I only beg to die, and he denies me.

Sci. Hence from my sight! thy father cannot bear thee;

Fly with thy infamy to some dark cell, Where, on the confines of eternal night, Mourning, misfortune, cares, and anguish dwell; [head, Where ugly shame hides her opprobrious And death and hell detested rule maintain; There howl out the remainder of thy life, And with thy name may be no more remember'd.

Cal. Yes, I will fly to some such dismal place,

And be more curs'd than you can wish I were; This fatal form, that drew on my undoing, Fasting, and tears, and hardships, shall de

stroy;

Nor light, nor food, nor comfort, will I know,
Nor aught that may continue hated life.
Then when you see me meagre, wan, and
chang'd,

Stretch'd at my length, and dying in my cave,
On that cold earth I mean shall be my grave,
Perhaps you may relent, and sighing say,
At length her tears have wash'd her stains
away;
[cease;
At length 'tis time her punishment should
Die, thou poor suff'ring wretch, and be at peace,
[Exit.

Sci. Who of my servants wait there?

Enter two or three SERVANTS.

Raise that body, and bear it in. On your lives Take care my doors be guarded well, that none Pass out, or enter, but by my appointment.

[Exeunt SERVANTS, with LOTHARIO's body. Alt. There is a fatal fury in your visage, It blazes fierce, and menaces destruction. I tremble at the vengeance which you meditate On the poor, faithless, lovely, dear Calista.

Sci. Hast thou not read what brave Virgi-
nius did?

With his own hand he slew his only daughter,
To save her from the fierce Decemvir's lust.
He slew her yet unspotted, to prevent
The shame which she might know. Then
what should I do?

But thou hast tied my hand.-I wo'not kill her;
Yet, by the ruin she has brought upon us,
The common infamy that brands us both,
She sha'not scape.

Alt. You mean that she shall die then?
Sci. Ask me not what, nor how, I have re-
solv'd;

For all within is anarchy and uproar.
Oh, Altamont! what a vast scheme of joy
Has this one day destroyed? Well did I hope
This daughter would have bless'd my latter
days;
[der,
That I should live to see you the world's won-
So happy, great, and good, that none were
like you.

While I, from busy life and care set free,
Had spent the evening of my age at home,
Among a little prattling race of yours: [then
There, like an old man, talk'd awhile, and
Laid down and slept in peace. Instead of this,
Sorrow and shame must bring me to my grave
Oh, damn her! damn her!

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. Arm yourself, my lord: Rossano, who but now escap'd the garden, Has gather'd in the street a band of rioters, Who threaten you and all your friends with

ruin,

Unless Lothario be return'd in safety. [Exit.
Sci. By heaven their fury rises to my wish,
Nor shall misfortune know my house alone;
But thou, Lothario, and thy race, shall pay me
For all the sorrows which my age is curs'd
with.
[potent,
I think my name as great, my friends as
As any in the state; all shall be summon'd;
I know that all will join their hands to ours,
And vindicate thy vengeance. When our force
Is full and arm'd, we shall expect thy sword
To join with us, and sacrifice to justice. [Exit.
Alt. There is a heavy weight upon my

SCENE I--A Room hung with black. On one side LOTHARIO'S Body on a Bier; on the other a Talle, with a Scull and other bones, a Book and a Lamp on it.—CALISTA is discovered on a couch, in black; her hair hanging loose and disordered. After soft music, she rises and comes forward.

Cal. 'Tis well! these solemn sounds, this pomp of horror,

Are fit to feed the frenzy in my soul.
Here's room for meditation even to madness,
Till the mind burst with thinking. This dull
flame

Sleeps in the socket. Sure the book was left
To teach me something;-for instruction then-
He teaches holy sorrow and contrition,
And penitence.-Is it become an art then?
A trick that lazy, dull, luxurious gownmen
Can teach us to do over? I'll no more on't;
[Throwing away the Book.

I have more real anguish in my heart,
Tean all their pedant discipline e'er knew.
What charnel has been rifled for these bones?
Fie! this is pageantry;-they look uncouthly.
But what of that, if he or she that own'd 'em
Safe from disquiet sit, and smile to see
The farce their miserable relics play?
But here's a sight is terrible indeed!
Is this that haughty, gallant, gay Lothario,
That dear, perfidious-Ah!-how pale he
And those dead eyes!
[looks!
Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forms of night,
In all your different dreadful shapes ascend,
And match the present horror, if you can.

Enter SCIOLTO.

Sci. This dread of night, this silent hour of darkness,

Nature for rest ordain'd, and soft repose;
And yet distraction and tumultuous jars
Keep all our frighted citizens awake:
Amidst the general wreck, see where she
stands,
[Pointing to CALISTA.
Like Helen, in the night when Troy was
sack'd,

Spectatress of the mischief which she made.
Cal. It is Sciolto! Be thyself, my soul,
Be strong to bear his fatal indignation,
That he may see thou art not lost so far,
But somewhat still of his great spirit lives
In the forlorn Calista.

Sci. Thou wert once

My daughter.

Cal. Happy were it I had died, And never lost that name.

Sci. That's something yet;

Thou wert the very darling of my age:

I thought the day too short to gaze upon thee; That all the blessings I could gather for thee, By cares on earth, and by my prayers to heaven,

Were little for my fondness to bestow; [me?
Why didst thou turn to folly then, and curse
Cal. Because my soul was rudely drawn
from yours,

A poor, imperfect copy of my father;
It was because I lov'd, and was a woman.
Sci Hadst thou been honest, thou hadst
been a cherub:

But of that joy, as of a gem long lost,
Beyond redemption gone, think we no more.
Hast thou e'er dar'd to meditate on death?
Cal. I have, as on the end of shame and sor-

Sci. 'Tis justly thought, and worthy of that spirit [Rome That dwelt in ancient Latian breasts, when Was mistress of the world. I would go on, And tell thee all my purpose; but it sticks Here at my heart, and cannot find a way. Cal. Then spare the telling, if it be a pain, And write the meaning with your poniard here.

Sci. Oh! truly guess'd-seest thou this trembling hand? [Holding up a Dagger. Thrice justice urg'd--and thrice the slack'ning sinews

Forgot their office, and confess'd the father.
At length the stubborn virtue has prevail'd;
It must, it must be so-Oh! take it then,
[Gives the Dagger.

And know the rest untaught.
Cal. I understand you.

It is but thus, and both are satisfied.
[Offers to kill herself; SCIOLTO catches
her arm.

Sci. A moment, give me yet a moment's space.

The stern, the rigid judge has been obey'd;
Now nature, and the father, claim their turns.
I've held the balance with an iron hand,
And put off every tender human thought,
To doom my child to death; but spare my eyes
The most unnatural sight, lest their strings
crack,
[ror.
My old brain split, and I grow mad with hor-
Cal. Ha! is it possible? and is there yet
Some little, dear remain of love and tenderness
For poor, undone Calista, in your heart?

Sci. Oh! when I think what pleasure I took in thee,

What joys thou gav'st me in thy prattling infancy,

Thy sprightly wit, and early blooming beauty; How have I stood and fed my eyes upon thee, Then, lifting up my hands and wond'ring,

bless'd thee;

By my strong grief, my heart even melts within me;

I could curse nature, and that tyrant, honour, For making me thy father and thy judge; Thou art my daughter still.

Cal. For that kind word,

Thus let me fall, thus humbly to the earth, Weep on your feet, and bless you for this goodness.

Oh! 'tis too much for this offending wretch, This parricide, that murders with her crimes, Shortens her father's age, and cuts him off, Ere little more than half his years be number'd.

Sci. Would it were otherwise-but thou must die.

Cal. That I must die, it is my only comfort; Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking: Come then,

Thou meagre shade; here let me breathe my last,

Charm'd with my father's pity and forgiveness, More than if angels tun'd their golden viols, And sung a requiem to my parting soul.

Sci. I'm summon'd hence; ere this my

friends expect me. There is, I know not what of sad presage, That tells me I shall never see thee more; If it be so, this is our last farewell, And these the parting pangs, which nature feels,

When anguish rends the heart-strings-Oh, my daughter! [Exit.

Cal. Now think, thou curs'd Calista, now behold

The desolation, horror, blood, and ruin, Thy crimes and fatal folly spread around, That loudly cry for vengeance on thy head; Yet heaven, who knows our weak imperfect natures, [evil, How blind with passions, and how prone to Makes not too strict inquiry for offences, But is aton'd by penitence and prayer: Cheap recompense! here 'twould not be receiv'd;

Nothing but blood can make the expiation, And cleanse the soul from inbred deep pollution.

And see, another injur'd wretch appears,
To call for justice from my tardy hand.

Cal. I know thee well, thou art the injur'd Altamont;

Thou com'st to urge me with the wrongs I've done thee.

But know I stand upon the brink of life,
And in a moment mean to set me free

From shame and thy upbraiding.

Alt. Falsely, falsely

Dost thou accuse me! O, forbid me not
To mourn thy loss,

To wish some better fate had rul'd our loves,
And that Calista had been mine, and true.
Cal. Oh, Altamont! 'tis hard for souls like
mine,

Haughty and fierce,to yield they've done amiss.
But, oh, behold! my proud, disdainful heart,
Bends to thy gentler virtue. Yes, I own,
Such is thy truth, thy tenderness, and love,
That, were I not abandon'd to destruction,
With thee I might have liv'd for ages bless'd,
And died in peace within thy faithful arms.

Cal. And dost thou bear me yet, thou patient earth? [weight? Dost thou not labour with thy murd'rous And you, ye glitt'ring, heavenly host of stars, Hide your fair heads in clouds, or I shall blast you;

For I am all contagion, death, and ruin,
And nature sickens at me. Rest, thou world,
This parricide shall be thy plague no more;
Thus, thus I set thee free. [Stats herself.

Hor. Oh, fatal rashness!

Enter SCIOLTO, pale and bloody, supported by Servants.

Cal. Oh, my heart! [fed Well may'st thou fail; for see, the spring that Thy vital stream is wasted, and runs low. My father! will you now, at last, forgive me, If, after all my crimes, and all your suff'rings, I call you once again by that dear name? Will you forget my shame, and those wide

wounds?

Come near, and let me bless thee ere I die.
To thee and brave Horatio I bequeath
My fortunes-Lay me by thy noble father,
And love my memory as thou hast his;
For thou hast been my son-Oh, gracious
heaven!

Thou that hast endless blessings still in store
For virtue and for filial piety,

I.et grief, disgrace, and want be far away;
But multiply thy mercies on his head. [him,
Let honour, greatness, goodness, still be with
And peace in all his ways-
[Dies.

Hor. The storm of grief bears hard upon his
And bends him, like a drooping flower, to
youth,
[earth.
By such examples are we taught to prove
The sorrows that attend unlawful love.
Death, or some worse misfortune, soon divide
The injur'd bridegroom from his guilty bride.
If you would have the nuptial union last,
Let virtue be the bond that ties it fast.

[Exeunt.