Alt. If thy friendship

Do churlishly deny my love a room,

It is not worth my keeping; I disclaim it. Hor. Canst thou so soon forget what I've been to thee?

I shared the task of nature with thy father, Aud formed with care thy inexperienced youth To virtue and to arms.

Thy noble father, oh, thou light young man! Would he have used me thus? One fortune fed us; For his was ever mine, mine his, and both Together flourished, and together fell.

Hor. Yet hold-thou know'st I dare-think how we've lived

[They fight; Altamont presses on Horatio, who retires.

Nay then, 'tis brutal violence; and thus,
Thus Nature bids me guard the life she gave.
[They fight.

LAVINIA enters, and 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,

left me

Thus, for a woman, and a vile one, too?

Alt. Thou canst not, dar'st not mean it! Speak again!

Say, who is vile; but dare not name Calista.

Hor. I had not spoke at first, unless compelled, And forced to clear myself; but since thus urged, I must avow, I do not know a viler.

Alt. Thou wert my father's friend; he loved thee well;

A kind of venerable mark of him

Hangs round thee, and protects thee from my

yours.

Alt. "Tis well thou hast found a safe-guard;

none but this,

No power on earth could save thee from my fury. Lav. O fatal, deadly sound!

Hor. Safety from thee!

Away, vain boy! Hast thou forgot the reverence
Due to my arm, thy first, thy great example,
Which pointed out thy way to noble daring,
And shewed thee what it was to be a man?

Lav. What busy, meddling fiend, what foe to goodness,

Could kindle such a discord? Oh, lay by
Those most ungentle looks, and angry weapons,
Unless you mean my griefs and killing fears
Should stretch me out at your relentless feet,
A wretched corse, the victim of your fury.

Hor. Ask'st thou what made us foes? 'Twas

base ingratitude,

'Twas such a sin to friendship, as Heaven's mercy, That strives with man's untoward, monstrous wickedness,

Unwearied with forgiving, scarce could pardon. He, who was all to me, child, brother, friend, With barbarous, bloody malice, sought my life.

Alt. Thou art my sister, and I would not make thee

The lonely mourner of a widowed bed; Therefore, thy husband's life is safe! but 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 out, Lavinia holds him.
Lav. Stay, Altamont, my brother, stay; if ever
Nature, or what is nearer much than nature,
The kind consent of our agreeing minds,
Have made us dear to one another, stay,
And speak one gentle word to your Horatio!
Behold, his anger melts, he longs to love you,
To call you friend, then press you hard, with all
The tender, speechless joy of reconcilement.
Alt. It cannot, shall not be-you must not
hold me.

Lav. 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;
There, if in any pause of love I rest,
Breathless with bliss, upon her panting breast,
In broken, melting accents, I will swear,
Henceforth to trust my heart with none but her;
Then own, the joys which on her charms attend,
Have more than paid me for my faithless friend.
[Altamont breaks from Lavinia, and exit.
Hor. Oh, raise thee, my Lavinia, from the
earth!

It is too much; this tide 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 Saved from the shipwreck of her father's for

tunes.

One half is lost already. If thou leav'st me;
If thou should'st prove unkind to me, as Alta-

mont,

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-

ness.

Heaven formed thee gentle, fair, and full of goodness,

And made thee all my portion here on earth:
It
gave thee to me, as a large amends
For fortune, friends, and all the world beside.
Lav. Then you will love me still, cherish me

ever,

And hide me from misfortune in your bosom? Here end my cares, nor will I lose one thought, How we shall live, or purchase food and raiment. The holy Power, who cloathes the senseless earth

With woods, with fruits, with flowers, and verdant grass,

Whose bounteous hand feeds the whole brute creation,

Knows all our wants, and has enough to give

us.

Hor. From Genoa, from falsehood and incon

stancy,

To some more honest, distant clime we'll go.
Nor will I be beholden to my country,
For aught but thee, the partner of my flight.

Lav. Yes, I will follow thee; forsake, for 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.

SCENE I-A Garden,

Enter ALTAMONT.

Alt. WITH what unequal tempers are we formed?

One day the soul, supine with ease and fulness,
Revels secure, and fondly tells herself
The hour of evil can return no more;
The next, the spirits, palled and sick of riot,
Turn all to discord, and we hate our beings,
Curse the past joy, and think it folly all,
And bitterness and anguish. Oh, last night!
What has ungrateful beauty paid me back,
For all the mass of friendship which I squander-

ed?

Coldness, aversion, tears, and sullen sorrow,
Dashed all my bliss, and damped my bridal bed.
Soon as the morning dawned, she vanished from me,
Relentless to the gentle call of love.

I've lost a friend, and I have gained—a wife!
Turn not to thought, my brain! but let me find
Some unfrequented shade; there lay me down,
And let forgetful dulness steal upon me,
To soften and assuage this pain of thinking. [Exit.

ments,

To charm me with thy softness: 'tis in vain :
Thou can'st no more betray, nor I be ruined.
The hours of folly, and of fond delight,
Are wasted all, and fled; those that remain
Are doomed to weeping, anguish, and repentance.
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 blest 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!
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 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,
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
thee,

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
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 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 wake?

Cal. Hadst thou been true, how happy had been!

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

[Drawing.

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-
rel;

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.

[Dies.

Cal. And what remains for me, beset with

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

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 Horatio'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 case, be well, and happy. [Exeunt Servants.

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
fears;

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 comes to bless me! he is safe!

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

1st Ser. 'Twere 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

us,

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 Ho ratio;

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 ;