Last night, Calista yielded to my happiness, A rising storm of passion shook her breast, I begg'd to be a sharer in her grief: But she, with looks averse, and eyes that froze me, Sci. Away! it is the cozenage of their sex; One of the common arts they practise on us: To sigh and weep then when their hearts beat high With expectation of the coming joy. 121 Thou hast in camps and fighting fields been bred, Loth. The father, and the husband! Ros. Let them pass. They saw us not. Loth. I care not if they did; Ere long I mean to meet 'em face to face, C And gall 'em with my triumph o'er Calista. Loth. I lik'd her, would have marry'd her, Ros. She, gentle soul, was kinder than her father. Loth. She was, and oft in private gave me hearing; Till, by long list'ning to the soothing tale, At length her easy heart was wholly mine. Ros. I've heard you oft describe her, haughty, insolent, And fierce with high disdain: it moves my wonder, Loth. Hear then, I'll tell thee: Once in a lone and secret hour of night, I found the fond, believing, love-sick maid, As peaceful seas that know no storms, and only 160 Are gently lifted up and down by tides. At length the morn and cold indifference came; Loth. Too soon I saw her: For, Oh! that meeting was not like the former: Loth. With uneasy fondness She hung upon me, wept, and sigh’d, and swore Ros. What answer made you? 180 Loth. None; but pretending sudden pain and illness, Escap'd the persecution. Two nights since, By message urg'd and frequent importunity, Some keeping cardinal shall doat upon thee, To man, who makes his mirth of our undoing! Rather than know the sorrows of Calista! Loth. Does she send thee to chide in her behalf? I swear thou dost it with so good a grace, That I could almost love thee for thy frowning. 260 Luc. Read there, my lord, there, in her own sad lines, [Giving a letter. Which best can tell the story of her woes, That grief of heart which your unkindness gives her. [Lothario reads. Your cruelty-Obedience to my father--Give my hand to Altamont. By Heav'n 'tis well! such ever be the gifts With which I greet the man whom my soul hates. Women, I see, can change as well as men. She writes me here, forsaken as I am, That I should bind my brows with mournful willow, For she has giv'n her hand to Altamont : Yet, tell the fair inconstant Luc. How, my lord! Loth. Nay, no more angry words: say to Calista, The humblest of her slaves shall wait her pleasure; If she can leave her happy husband's arms, To think upon so lost a thing as I am. Luc. Alas! for pity, come with gentler looks: 280 Wound not her heart with this unmanly triumph; And, tho' you love her not, yet swear you do, So shall dissembling once be virtuous in you. Loth. Ha! who comes here ? Luc. The bridegroom's friend, Horatio. He must not see us here. To-morrow early Be at the garden gate. Loth. Bear to my love My kindest thoughts, and swear I will not fail her. [Lothario putting up the letter hastily, drops it as he goes out. [Exeunt Lothario and Rossano one way, Lucilla another. Enter HORATIO. Hor. Sure 'tis the very error of my eyes; What business could he have here, and with her? Profest and deadly hate-What paper's this? [Taking up the letter. Ha! To Lothario!-'s death! Calista's name! Confusion and misfortunes! [Opening it. [Reads. |