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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

'Tis deadly to remembrance. Let that night,
That guilty night, be blotted from the year!
Let not the voice of mirth or music know it!
Let it be dark and desolate; no stars
To glitter o'er it! let it wish for light,
Yet want it still, and vainly wait the dawn!
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 complams 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

Which nothing but thy cruelty could cause?
If indignation, raging in my soul,
For thy unmanly insolence and scorn,
Urged me to a deed of desperation,
And wound myself to be revenged 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 Altamont,
Could have prevailed, or won me to forsake thee.
Loth. How have I failed in justice, or in love?
Burns not my flame as brightly as at first?
Even now my heart beats high, I languish for

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

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

And I must yield before it. Wert thou calm,
Love, the poor criminal, whom thou hast doomed,
Has yet a thousand tender things to plead,
To charm thy rage, and mitigate his fate.

Enter behind them ALTAMONT.

Alt. I have lost my peace-Ha! do I live and

Cal. Hadst thou been true, how happy had

Not Altamont, but thou, hadst been my lord,
But wherefore named I happiness with thee?

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Loth. Thou hast taken me somewhat unawares,
'tis true:

But love and war take turns, like day and night,
And little preparation serves my turn,
Equal to both, and armed for either field.
We've long been foes, this moment ends our quar-

Earth, Heaven, and fair Calista judge the combat!

Cal. Distraction! Fury! Sorrow! Shame! and death!

Alt. Thou hast talked too much, thy breath is poison to me;

It taints the ambient air; this for my fatherThis for Sciolto-and this last for Altamont. [They fight; Lothario is wounded once or twice, and then falls.

Loth. Oh, Altamont! thy genius is the stronger! Thou hast prevailed!—My fierce ambitious soul Declining droops, and all her fires grow pale; Yet let not this advantage swell thy pride; I conquered in my turn, in love I triumphed. Those joys are lodged beyond the reach of fate; That sweet revenge comes smiling to my thoughts, Adorns my fall, and cheers my heart in dying.


Cal. And what remains for me, beset with

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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, II would not bear to be reproached by them, But dig down deep to find a grave beneath, And hide me from their beams.

Sciolto within. What, ho! my son!

Alt. It is Sciolto calls; come near and find me;
The wretchedest thing of all my kind on earth.

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.

Sci. Even now Rossano leaped the garden

Ha! Death has been among you-Oh, my fears!
Last night thou had'st a difference with thy friend;
The cause thou gavest me was a damned one.
Didst thou not wrong the man who told thee

Answer me quick

Alt. Oh! press me not to speak;

Even now my heart is breaking, and the mention
Will lay me dead before thee. 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 good-


[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 I wished to live.

| 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 unpunished :
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 doomed to live, and bear your


groan beneath your scorn and fierce upbraid-

Daily to be reproached, and have my misery
At morn, at noon, at night, told over to me,
Lest my remembrance might grow pitiful,
And grant a moment's interval of peace!
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;
Where ugly shame hides her opprobrious head,
And death and hell detested rule maintain;
There howl out the remainder of thy life,
And wish thy name may be no more remember-

Cal. Yes, I will fly to some such dismal place,
And be more cursed than you can wish I were;
This fatal form, that drew on my undoing,
Fasting, and tears, and hardships shall destroy ;.
Nor light, nor food, nor comfort will I know,
Nor ought that may continue hated life.
Then, when you see me meagre, wan, and changed,

Cal. No, Altamont; my heart, that scorned thy Stretched at my length, and dying in my cave,


Shall never be indebted to thy pity.
Thus torn, defaced, 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

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

Alt. Listen not to the wildness of her raving;
Remember nature! Should thy daughter's mur-


Defile that hand, so just, so great in arms,
Her blood would rest upon thee to posterity,
Pollute thy name, and sully all thy wars.

Cal. Have I not wronged his gentle nature

And yet behold him pleading for my life!
Lost as thou art to virtue, oh, Calista!
I think thou can'st not bear to be outdone;
Then haste to die, and be obliged no more.
Sci. Thy pious care has given me time to think,
And saved me from a crime; then rest, my sword:
To honour have I kept thee ever sacred,

On that cold earth I mean shall be my grave,
Perhaps you may relent, and sighing say,
At length her tears have washed her stains away;
At length 'tis time her punishment should cease;
Die, thou poor suffering wretch, and be at peace.
[Erit Calista.

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.
My father, I am sick of many sorrows,
Even now my easy heart is breaking with them;
Yet, above all, one fear distracts me most;
I tremble at the vengeance which you meditate
On the poor, faithless, lovely, dear Calista.

Sci. Hast thou not read what brave Virginius


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 will not kill her;
Yet, by the ruin she has brought upon us,
The common infamy that brands us both,
She shall not 'scape.

Alt. You mean that she shall die then?

Sci. Ask me not what, nor how, I have resolved,

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 blest my latter days;
That I should live to see you the world's wonder,
So happy, great, and good, that none were like

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As any in the state; all shall be summoned;
I know that all will join their hands to ours,
And vindicate thy vengeance. When our force
Is full, and armed, we shall expect thy sword
To join with us, and sacrifice to justice.—
[Exit Sciolto.
Alt. There is a stupid weight upon my senses;
A dismal sullen stillness, that succeeds
The storm of rage and grief, like silent death,
After the tumult and the noise of life.
Would it were death, as sure 'tis wondrous like it,
For I am sick of living; my soul's palled,
She kindles not with anger and revenge :
Love was the informing, active fire within :
Now that is quenched, the mass forgets to move,
And longs to mingle with its kindred earth.

[A tumultuous noise, with clashing of
swords, as at a little distance.

Enter LAVINIA, with two Servants, their swords drawn.

Lav. Fly, swiftly fly, to my IIoratio's aid, Nor lose your vain officious cares on me! Bring me my lord, my husband, to my arms! He is Lavinia's life! bring him me safe, And I shall be at ease, be well, and happy. [Exeunt Servants.

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Alt. Art thou Lavinia? Oh! what barbarous hand

Could wrong thy poor defenceless innocence,
And leave such marks of more than savage fury?
Lav. My brother! Oh! my heart is full of

Perhaps even now my dear Horatio bleeds!—
Nor far from hence, as passing to the port,
By a mad multitude we were surrounded,
Who ran upon us with uplifted swords,
And cried aloud for vengeance, and Lothario,
My lord, with ready boldness, stood the shock,
To shelter me from danger; but in vain,
Had not a party from Sciolto's palace
Rushed out, and snatched me from amidst the fray.
Alt. What of my friend?

Lav. Ha! by my joys, 'tis he! [Looking out. He lives, he coines to bless me! he is safe

Enter HORATIO, with two or three Servants, their swords drawn.

1st Ser. Twerc at the utmost hazard of your life

To venture forth again, till we are stronger:
Their number trebles ours.

Hor. No matter; let it:

Death is not half so shocking as that traitor.
My honest soul is mad with indignation,
To think her plainness could be so abused,
As to mistake that wretch, and call him friend;
I cannot bear the sight!

Alt. Open, thou earth,

Gape wide, and take me down to thy dark bosom, To hide me from Horatio!

Hor. Oh, Lavinia!

Believe not but I joy to see thee safe:

Would our ill-fortune had not drove us hither: I could even wish we rather had been wrecked On any other shore, than saved on this.

Lav. Oh! let us bless the mercy that preserved


That gracious power that saved us for each other:
And, to adorn the sacrifice of praise,
Offer forgiveness too; be thou like Heaven,
And put away the offences of thy friend,
Far, far from thy remembrance.

Alt. I have marked him,

To see if one forgiving glance stole hither;
If any spark of friendship were alive,
That would, by sympathy, at meeting glow,
And strive to kindle up the flame a-new;
'Tis lost, 'tis gone; his soul is quite estranged,
And knows me for its counterpart no more!

Hor. Thou know'st thy rule, thy empire in Horatio;

Nor canst thou ask in vain, command in vain,
Where nature, reason, nay, where love is judge;
But when you urge my temper to comply
With what it most abhors, I cannot do it.

Lav. Where didst thou get this sullen gloomy hate?

It was not in thy nature to be thus;

Come, put it off, and let thy heart be cheerful!
Be gay again, and know the joys of friendship,
The trust, security, and mutual tenderness,
The double joys, where each is glad for both;
Friendship, the wealth, the last retreat

Secure against ill-fortune, and the world.

Hor. I am not apt to take a light offence, But patient of the failings of my friends, And willing to forgive; but when an injury Stabs to the heart, and rouses my resentment, (Perhaps it is the fault of my rude nature) I own I cannot easily forgive it.

Alt. Thou hast forgot me!

Hor. No.

Alt. Why are thy eyes

Impatient of me then, scornful, and fierce?


Hor. Because they speak the meaning of my heart;

Because they are honest, and disdain a villain!

Alt. I've wronged thee much, Horatio.
Hor. True, thou hast.

When I forget it, may I be a wretch,
Vile as thyself, a false perfidious fellow,
An infamous, believing, British husband,

Alt. I've wronged thee much, and Heaven has
well avenged it.

I have not, since we parted, been at peace, Nor known one joy sincere; our broken friendship

And be a tame, fond wretch.

Lav. Where wouldst thou go?

Wouldst thou part thus? you shalt not, 'tis impossible;

For I will bar thy passage, kneeling thus:
Perhaps, thy cruel hand may spurn me off,
But I will throw my body in thy way,

And thou shalt trample over my faithful bosom,
Tread on me, wound me, kill me, ere thou
Alt. Urge not in vain thy pious suit, Lavinia,
I have enough to rid me of my pain.
Calista, thou hadst reached my heart before;
To make all sure, my friend repeats the blow:
But in the grave our cares shall be forgotten,
There love and friendship ccase.

[Falls. [Lavinia runs to him, and endeavours to raise


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Hor. It is too much to bear! Look up, my Altamont!

My stubborn, unrelenting heart has killed him, Look up and bless me! tell me that thou livest! Stood glaring like a ghost, and made me cold with Oh! I have urged thy gentleness too far;

Pursued nie to the last retreat of love,


Misfortunes on misfortunes press upon me, Swell o'er my head like waves, and dash me down; Sorrow, remorse, and shame, have torn my soul; They hang, like winter, on my youthful hopes, And blast the spring and promise of my year.

Lav. So flowers are gathered to adorn a grave, To lose their freshness amongst bones and rot


And have their odours stifled in the dust.
Canst thou hear this, thou cruel, hard Horatio?
Canst thou behold thy Altamont undone?
That gentle, that dear youth! canst thou behold

His poor heart broken, death in his pale visage,
And groaning out his woes, yet stand unmoved?
Hor. The brave and wise I pity in misfortune;
But when ingratitude and folly suffers,
'Tis weakness to be touched.

Alt. I will not ask thee

To pity or forgive inc; but confess,
This scorn, this insolence of hate, is just;
'Tis constancy of mind, and manly in thee.
But, Oh! had I been wronged by thee, Horatio,
There is a yielding softness in my heart
Could ne'er have stood it out; but I had ran,
With streaming eyes, and open arms, upon thee,
And pressed thee close, close!

Hor. I must hear no more;

Thy weakness is contagious; I shall catch it,

[He revives. Do thou and my Lavinia both forgive me; A flood of tenderness comes o'er my soul; I cannot speak-I love, forgive, and pity theeAlt. I thought that nothing could have stayed

my soul;

That long ere this her flight had reached the stars;

But thy known voice has lured her back again. Methinks, I fain would set all right with thee, Make up this most unlucky breach, and then, With thine and Heaven's forgiveness on my soul, Shrink to my grave, and be at ease for ever.

Hor. By Heaven, my heart bleeds for thee; even this moment,

I feel thy pangs of disappointed love.
Is it not pity that this youth should fall,
That all his wondrous goodness should be lost,
And the world never know it? Oh, my Altamont!
Give me thy sorrows, let me bear them for thee,
And shelter thee from ruin!

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SCENE I-A Room hung with black; on one side Lothario's body on a bier; on the other a table, with a skull 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.


Hear, you midnight phantoms, hear,
You who pale and wan appear,
And fill the wretch who wakes with fear;
You, who wander, scream and groan
Round the mansions once your own ;
You, who still your crimes upbraid;
You, who rest not with the dead;

From the coverts where you stray,
Where you lurk and shun the day,
From the charnel and the tomb,
Hither haste ye, hither come.

Chide Calista for delay,
Tell her, 'tis for her you stay;
Bid her die and come away.
See the sexton with his spade,
See the grave already made;
Listen, fuir one, to thy knell,
This music is thy passing bell.

Cal. 'Tis well! these solemn sounds, this
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

Sleeps in the socket. Sure the book was left
To tell 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,
Than all their pedant discipline ever 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 owned

Safe from disquiet sit, and smile to see
The farce their miserable relicks play?
But here's a sight is terrible indeed!"

Is this that haughty, gallant, gay, Lothario?
That dear perfidious-Ah! how pale he looks!
How grim with clotted blood, and those dead

Ascend, ye ghosts, fantastic forms of night,
In all your different dreadful shapes ascend,
And match the present horror, if ye can!

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