Then spare me, I conjure thee; ask no further; 381
Allow my melancholy thoughts this privilege,
And let 'em brood in secret o'er their sorrows.
Lav. It is enough; chide not, and all is well!
Forgive me if I saw you sad, Horatio,

And ask'd to weep out part of your misfortunes:
I wo' not press to know what you forbid me.
Yet, my lov'd lord, yet you must grant me this,
Forget your cares for this one happy day,
Devote this day to mirth, and to your Altamont;
For his dear sake, let peace be in your looks.
Ev'n now the jocund bridegroom waits your wishes,
He thinks the priest has but half bless'd his marriage,
'Till his friend hails him with the sound of joy.

Hor. Oh, never, never, never! Thou art innocent: Simplicity from ill, pure native truth,

And candour of the mind, adorn thee ever;

But there are such, such false ones, in the world,
'Twould fill thy gentle soul with wild amazement
To hear their story told.

Lav. False ones, my lord!

Hor. Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles

400

The graces, little loves, and young desires inhabit ;
But all that gaze upon 'em are undone;

For they are false, luxurious in their appetites,
And all the Heav'n they hope for is variety:
One lover to another still succeeds,

Another, and another after that,

And the last fool is welcome as the former;

'Till having lov'd his hour out, he gives place,

And mingles with the herd that went before him.

Lav. Can there be such, and have they peace of

mind?

Have they, in all the series of their changing,
One happy hour? If women are such things,
How was I form'd so different from my sex!
My little heart is satisfied with you;

You take up all her room, as in a cottage
Which harbours some benighted princely stranger,
Where the good man, proud of his hospitality,
Yields all his homely dwelling to his guest,

And hardly keeps a corner for himself.

420

Hor. Oh, were they all like thee, men would adore

'em,

And all the business of their lives be loving;
The nuptial band should be the pledge of peace,
And all domestic cares and quarrels cease;

The world should learn to love by virtuous rules,
And marriage be no more the jest of fools. [Exeunt.

A& II. SCENE 1.

A Hall. Enter CALISTA and LUCILLA.

Calista.

BE dumb for ever, silent as the grave,
Nor let thy fond officious love disturb
My solemn sadness with the sound of joy.

If thou wilt sooth me, tell some dismal tale
Of pining discontent, and black despair;

For, Oh! I've gone around through all my thoughts, But all are indignation, love, or shame,

And my

dear peace of mind is lost for ever.

Luc. Why do you follow still that wand'ring fire, That has misled your weary steps, and leaves you

Benighted in a wilderness of woe,

That false Lothario? Turn from the deceiver;
Turn, and behold where gentle Altamont,
"Kind as the softest virgin of our sex,
"And faithful as the simple village swain,
"That never knew the courtly vice of changing,"
Sighs at your feet, and woes you to be happy.
Cal. Away! I think not of him. My sad soul
Has form'd a dismal melancholy scene,
Such a retreat as I would wish to find;
An unfrequented vale, o'ergrown with trees
Mossy and old, within whose lonesome shade
Ravens, and birds ill-omen'd only dwell:
No sound to break the silence, but a brook
That bubbling winds among the weeds: no mark
any human shape that had been there,
Unless a skeleton of some poor wretch,

Of

Who had long since, like me, by love undone,
Sought that sad place out, to despair and die in.

Luc. Alas, for pity!

Cal. There I fain would hide me

20

From the base world, from malice, and from shame; For 'tis the solemn counsel of my soul

D

Never to live with public loss of honour:

'Tis fix'd to die, rather than bear the insolence
Of each affected she that tells my story,

And blesses her good stars that she is virtuous.
To be a tale for fools! Scorn'd by the women,
And pity'd by the men! Oh, insupportable!
Luc. Can you perceive the manifest destruction,
The gaping gulf that opens just before you,
And
tho' conscious of the danger?
yet rush on,
Oh, hear me, hear your ever faithful creature!

By all the good I wish, by all the ill

My trembling heart forebodes, let me intreat you,
Never to see this faithless man again;

Let me forbid his coming.

Cal. On thy life

I charge thee no: my genius drives me on;
I must, I will behold him once again :

Perhaps it is the crisis of my fate,

And this one interview shall end my cares.

My lab'ring heart that swells with indignation,
Heaves to discharge the burthen; that once done,
The busy thing shall rest within its cell,

And never beat again.

Luc. Trust not to that:

Rage is the shortest passion of our souls:

Like narrow brooks that rise with sudden show'rs,
It swells in haste, and falls again as soon;

Still as it ebbs the softer thoughts flow in,

And the deceiver Love supplies its place.

41

60

Cal. I have been wrong'd enough to arm my temper

Against the smooth delusion; but alas!

(Chide not my weakness, gentle maid, but pity me)
A woman's softness hangs about me still:
Then let me blush, and tell thee all my folly.
I swear I could not see the dear betrayer
Kneel at my feet, and sigh to be forgiven,
But my relenting heart would pardon all,

And quite forget 'twas he that had undone me. "Luc. Ye sacred pow'rs, whose gracious provi

dence

"Is watchful for our good, guard me from men, "From their deceitful tongues, their vows, and flat"teries;

"Still let me pass neglected by their eyes,

"Let my bloom wither, and my form decay, "That none may think it worth his while to ruin

me,

"And fatal love may never be my bane."

Cal. Ha, Altamont! Calista, now be wary,

[Exit.

And guard thy soul's accesses with dissembling: 8
Nor let this hostile husband's eyes explore
The warring passions, and tumultuous thoughts,
That rage within thee, and deform thy reason.

Enter ALTAMONT.

Alt. Begone, my cares, I give you to the winds, Far to be borne, far from the happy Altamont; "For from this sacred æra of my love,

"A better order of succeeding days