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SCENE 1.-A Garden.
Enter ALTAMONT and HORATIO. Alt. Let this auspicious day be ever sacred, No mourning, no misfortunes happen on it: Let it be marked for triumphs and rejoicings; Let happy lovers ever make it holy, Choose it to bless their hopes, and crown their
wishes, This happy day, that gives me my Calista!
Hor. Yes, Altamont; to-day thy better stars Are join'd to shed their kindest influence on
thee; Sciolto's noble hand, that raised thee first, Half dead and drooping o'er thy father's grave, Completes its bounty, and restores thy name To that high rank and lustre which it boasted, Before ungrateful Genoa had forgot The merit of thy god-like father's arms; Before that country, which he long had serv’d, In watchful councils, and in winter camps, Had cast off his white age to want and wretch
edness, And made their court to faction by his ruin. Alt. Oh, great Sciolto! Oh, my more than
father! Let me not live, but at thy very name, My eager heart springs up, and leaps with joy. When I forget the vast, vast debt I owe theeForget! (but 'tis impossible) then let me Forget the use and privilege of reason, Be driven from the commerce of mankind, To wander in the desert among brutes, To bear the various fury of the seasons, The night's unwholesome dew, and noon-day's
heat, To be the scorn of earth, and curse of heaven! Hor. So open, so unbounded was his good
Hor. Yet what thou couldst, thou didst,
(Foe to thy house, and rival of their greatness)
piness, The man who saved my life from deadly sorrow, Who bids my days be blest with peace and
plenty, And satisfies my soul with love and beauty ! Enter SCIOLTO; he runs to ALTAMONT, and
embraces him. Sci. Joy to thee, Altamont! Joy to myself! Joy to this happy morn that makes thee mine; That kindly grants what nature had denied me, And makes me father of a son like thee!
Alt. My father! Oh, let me unlade my breast, Pour out the fulness of my soul before you; Shew every tender, every grateful thought, This wondrous goodness stirs. But 'tis impos
sible, And utterance all is vile; since I can only Swear you reign here, but never tell how much. Sci. It is enough; I know thee, thou art hoe
nest; Goodness innate, and worth hereditary, Are in thy mind; thy noble father's virtues Spring freshly forth, and blossom in tliy youth. Alt. Thus Heaven from nothing raised his
fair creation, And then, with wondrous joy, beheld its beauty, Well pleased to see the excellence he gave. Sci. O, noble youth! I swear, since first I
knew thee, Even from that day of sorrows when I saw thee, Adorned and lovely in thy filial tears, The mourner and redeemer of thy father, I set thee down, and sealed thee for my own: Thou art my son, even near me as Calista. Horatio and Lavinia too are mine;
(Embraces HORATIC. All are my children, and shall share my heart. But wherefore waste we thus this happy day? The laughing minutes summon thee to joy, And with new pleasures court thee as they pass; Thy waiting bride even chides thee for delaying, And swears thou com’st not with a bridegroom's
haste. Alt. Oh! could I hope there was one thought
of Altamont, One kind remembrance in Calista's breast,
The winds, with all their wings, would be too And stars alone shonc conscious of the theft, slow
Hot with the Tuscan grape, and high in biood, To bear me to her feet. For oh, my father! Haply I stole unheeded to her chamber. Amidst the stream of joy that bears me on, Ros. That minute sure was lucky. Blest as I am, and honoured in your friendship, Loth. Oh, 'twas great! There is one pain that hangs upon my heart. I found the fond, believing, love-sick maid, Sci. What means my son ?
Loose, unattired, warm, tender, full of wishes; Alt. When, at your intercession,
Fierceness and pride, the guardians of her hoLast night Calista yielded to my happiness,
nour, Just ere we parted, as I sealed my vows
Were charmed to rest, and love alone was wa. With rapture on her lips, I found her cold,
king: As a dead lover's statue on his tomb;
Within her rising bosom all was calm, A rising storm of passion shook her breasta As peaceful seas that know no storms, and only Her eyes a piteous shower of tears let fall, Are gently lifted up and down by tides. And then she sighed, as if her heart were break- I snatched the glorious golden opportunity, ing.
And with prevailing, youthful ardour pressed her, With all the tenderest eloquence of love, 'Till with short sighs, and murmuring reluctance, I begged to be a sharer in her grief;
The yielding fair one gave me perfect happiness But she, with looks averse, and eyes that froze | Even all the live-long night we passed in bliss, me,
In extacies too fierce to last for ever; Sadly replied, her sorrows were her own, At length the morn and cold indifference cam; Nor in a father's power to dispose of.
When, fully sated with the luscious banquet, Sci. Away! it is the cozenage of their sex; I hastily took leave, and left the nymph One of the common arts they practise on us: To think on what was past, and sigh alone. To sigh and weep then when their hearts beat Ros. You saw her soon again? high
Loth. Too soon I saw her: With expectation of the coming joy:
For, Oh! that meeting was not like the formet: Thou hast in camps and fighting fields been bred, I found my heart no more beat high withi tralie Unknowing in the subtleness of women.
port, The virgin bride, who swoons with deadly fear, No more I sighed, and languished for enjoyment; To see the end of all her wishes near,
'Twas past, and reason took her turn to reign, When blushing, from the light and public eyes, While every weakness fell before her throne. To the kind covert of the night she flies,
Ros. What of the lady? With equal fires to meet the bridegroom moves, Loth. With uneasy
fondness Melts in his arms, and with a loose she loves. She hung upon me, wept, and sighed, and surre
(Ercunt. She was undone; talked of a priest, and re
riage; Enter LOTHARIO and Rossaxo.
Of flying with me from her father's power ; Loth. The father, and the husband !
Called every saint, and blessed angel down, Ros. Let them pass.
To witness for her that she was my wife. They saw us not.
I started at that name. Loth. I care not if they did;
Ros. What answer made you? Ere long I mean to meet them face to face, Loth. None; but pretending sudden pain as: And gall them with my triumph o'er Calista.
illness, Ros. You loved her once.
Escaped the persecution. Two nights since, Loth. I liked her, would have married her, By message urged and frequent importunity, But that it pleased her father to refuse me, Again I saw her. Straight with tears and sighTo make this honourable fool her husband : With swelling brcasts, with swooning, with us For which, if I forget him, may the shame
traction, I mean to brand his name with, stick on mine! With all the subtleties and powerful arts Ros. She, gentle soul, was kinder than her fa. Of wilful women, labouring for her purpose, ther?
Again she told the same dull nauseous tale. Loth. She was, and oft in private gave me Unmoved; I begged her sparc the ungrateful si hearing;
ject, Till, by long listening to the soothing tale, Since I resolved, that love and peace of mind At length her easy heart was wholly mine. Might flourish long inviolate betwixt trs, Ros. I have heard you oft describe her, Never to load it with the marriage chain; haughty, insolent,
That I would still retain her in my heart, And fierce with high disdain: it moves my won. My ever gentle mistress and my friend ! der,
But for those other names of wife and kustar'. That virtue, thus defended, should be yielded They only meant ill-nature, cares, and quarrels A prey to loose desires.
Ros. Ilow bore she this reply? Loth. Hear then, I will tell thee:
Loth. Even as the carth, Once in a lone and secret hour of night, When winds pent up, or eating fires beneath, When every eye was closed, and the pale moon Slaking the mass, she labours with destrutku'.
you named !
At first her rage was dumb, and wanted words ; (Loth. reads.]— Your cruelty-Obedience to But when the storm found way, 'twas wild and my father-Give my hand to Altamont.' loud.
By heaven 'tis well! such ever be the gifts, Mad as the priestess of the Delphic god, With which I greet the man whom my soul hates. Enthusiastic passion swelled her breast,
Aside. Enlarged her voice, and ruffled all her form. But to go on! Proud, and disdainful of the love I proffered, • Wish-heart-honour too faithless She called me villain! monster! base betrayer! Weakness-to-morrow-last trouble-lost CaAt last, in very bitterness of soul,
lista, With deadly imprecations on herself,
Women, I see, can change as well as men. She vowed severely ne'er to see me more;
She writes me here, forsaken as I am, Then bid me fly that minute: I obeyed, That I should bind my brows with mournful wilAnd, bowing, left her to grow cool at leisure.
low, Ros. She has relented since, else why this For she has given her hand to Altamont : message
Yet, tell the fair inconstantTo meet the keeper of her secrets here
Luc. How, my lord ! This morning?
Loth. Nay, no more angry words: say to CaLoth. See the
The humblest of her slaves shall wait her plea-
? Luc. Alas! for pity, come with gentler looks; Is your fair mistress calmer? Does she soften? Wound not her beart with this unmanly triumph: And must we love again ? Perhaps she means And, though you love her not, yet swear you do, To treat in juncture with her new ally,
So shall dissembling once be virtuous in you. And make her husband party to the agreement.
Loth. Ha! who comes here?
He must not see us here. To.morrow carly All sense of human nature? Keep a little,
Be at the garden gate. A little pity, to distinguish manhood,
Loth. Bear to niy love Lestothermen, though cruel, should disclaim you, My kindest thoughts, and swear I will not fail And judge you to be numbered with the brutes.
her. Loth. I see thou'st learned to rail.
(LOTHARIO putting up the letter hastily, Luc. I've learned to weep;
drops it as he goes out. That lesson my sad mistress often gives me : (Exeunt LOTUARIO and Rossano one way, By day she seeks some melancholy shade,
and LUCILLA another. To hide her sorrows from the prying world ; At night she watches all the long, long hours,
Enter HORATIO. And listens to the winds and beating rain, Hor. Sure 'tis the very error of my eyes ; With sighs as loud, and tears that fall as fast; Waking I dream, or I beheld Lothario; Then, ever and anon, she wrings her hands, He seemed conferring with Calista's woman:. And cries, false, false Lothario!
At my approach they started, and retired. Loth. Oh, no more!
What business could he have here, and with I swear thou’lt spoil thy pretty face with crying,
her? And thou hast beauty' that may make thy for- I know he bears the noble Altamont tune:
Profest and deadly hate-What paper's this? Some keeping cardinal shall doat upon thee,
(Taking up the Ictter. And barter his church treasure for thy freshness. Ha! To Lothario !—'s death! Calista's name! Luc. What! shall I sell my innocence and
[Opening it. youth,
Confusion and misfortunes !
(Reuds it. For wealth or titles, to perfidious man!
* Your cruelty has at length determined ine, To man, who makes his mirth of our undoing ! and I have resolved this morning to yield a perThe base, profest betrayer of our sex!
"fect obedience to my father, and to give my Let me grow old in all misfortunes else, ' hand to Altamont, in spite of my weakness for. Rather than know the sorrows of Calista! • the false Lothario. I could almost wish I had Loth. Does she send thee to chide in her be that heart, and that honour to bestow with it, half?
which you have robbed me of:'. I swear thou dost it with so good a grace,
Damnation to the rest [Reads again. That I could almost love thee for thy frowning. But, Oh! I fear, could I retrieve them, I should Luc. Read there, my lord, there, in her own * again be undone by the too faithless, yet too sad lines,
(Giving a letter. lovely Lothario. This is the last weakness of Which best can tell the story of her woes, my pen, and to-morrow shall be the last in Fbat grief of heart which your unkindness gives which I will indulge iny eyes. Lucilla shall ber.
* conduct you, if you are kind enough to let me
see you ; it shall be the last trouble you shall ( Why did you falsely call me your Lavinia, * meet with from
And swear I was Horatio's better half, "The lost CALISTA.' Since now you mourn unkindly by yourself
, The lost, indeed! for thou art gone as far And rob me of my partnership of sadness? As there can be perdition. Fire and sulphur! Witness, ye holy powers, who know my truth, Hell is the sole avenger of such crimes.
There cannot be a chance in life so miserable, Oh, that the ruin were but all thy own! Nothing so very hard, but I could bear it, Thou wilt even make thy father curse his age; Much rather than my love should treat me coll At sight of this black scroll, the gentle Altamont And use me like a stranger to his heart. (For, Oh! I know his heart is set upon thee) Hor. Seek not to know what I would be Shall droop, and hang his discontented head,
from all, Like merit scorned by insolent authority, But most from thee. I never knew a pleasure, And never grace the public with his virtues. Aught that was joyful, fortunate or good, Perhaps even now he gazes fondly on her, But straight I ran to bless thee with the tidings And, thinking soul and body both aliké, And laid up all my happiness with thee: Blesses the perfect workmanship of Heaven ! But wherefore, wherefore should I give thee pair: Then sighing, to his every care speaks peace, Then spare me, I conjure thee; ask no further And bids his heart be satisfied with happiness. Allow my melancholy thoughts this privilege, Oh, wretched husband! while she hangs about And let them brood in secret o'er their sorrows thee
Lav. It is enough; chide not, and all is wel. With idla blandishments, and plays the fond one, Forgive me if I saw you sad, Horatio, Even then her hot imagination wanders, And ask to weep out part of your misfortunes: Contriving riot, and loose 'scapes of love; I would not press to know what you forbid na And whilst she clasps thee close, makes thee a Yet, my loved lord, yet you must grant me this, monster!
Forget your cares for this one happy day; What if I give this paper to her father? Devote this day to mirth, and to your Altamont; It follows, that his justice dooms her dead, For his dear sake, let peace be in your looks. And breaks his heart with sorrow; hard return Even now the jocund bridegroom waits you For all the good his hand has heaped on us !
wishes; Hold, let me take a moment's thought
He thinks the priest has but half blessed his mr.
riage, Enter LAVINIA.
Till his friend hails him with the sound of jor. Lav. My lord !
Hor. Oh, never, never, never! Thou art is Trust me, it joys my heart that I have found you.
Lav. False ones, my lord !
to rest, and soften all ycur pains. Hor, Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles Hor. It were unjust-No, let me spare my The graces, little loves, and young desires, in
friend, Lock up the fatal secret in my breast,
But all that gaze upon them are undone; Nor tell him that which will undo his quiet. For they are false, luxurious in their appetites
, Lav. What means my lord?
And all the Heaven they hope for, is variety: Hor. Ha! saidst thou, my Lavinia ?
One lover to another still succeeds, Lav. Alas! you know not what you make me Another, and another after that, suffer.
And the last fool is welcome as the former; Why are you pale? Why did you start and trem- Till, havir', loved his hour out, he gives place, ble?
And mingles with the herd that went before him. Whence is that sigh? and wherefore are your eyes Lav. Can there be such, and have they peace Severely raised to Heaven! The sick man thus,
of mind? Acknowledging the summons of his fate, Have they, in all the series of their changing, Lifts up his feeble hands and
mercy, One happy hour? If women are such things, And, with confusion, thinks upon his exit. How was I formed so different from my sex? Hor. Oh, no! thou hast místook my sickness My little heart is satisfied with you; quite;
You take up all her room, as in a cottage These pangs are of the soul. Would I had met Which harbours some benighted princely stranger, • Sharpest convulsions, spotted pestilence, Where the good man, proud of his hospitality, Or any other deadly foe to life,
Yields all his homely dwelling to his guest, Rather than heave beneath this load of thought! And hardly keeps a corner for himself
. Lav. Alas! what is it? Wherefore turn you Hor. Oħ! were they all like thee, men worlal from me
id all the business of their lives be loving;
The world should learn to love by virtuous rules,
And this one interview shall end my cares.
My labouring heart, that swells with indignation
Heaves to discharge the burden; that once done, Enter CALISTA and LUCILLA.
The busy thing shall rest within its cell, Cal. Be dumb for ever, silent as the grave, And never beat again. or let thy fond officious love disturb
Luc. Trust not to that; ły solemn sadness with the sound of joy ! Rage is the shortest passion of our souls: 'thou wilt soothe me, tell me some dismal tale Like narrow brooks, that rise with sudden f pining discontent and black despair;
showers, or, oh! I've gone around through all my thoughts, It swells in haste, and falls again as soon; ut all are indignation, love, or shame,
Still, as it ebbs, the softer thoughts flow in, und my dear peace of mind is lost for ever! And the deceiver, Love, supplies its place.
Luc. Why do you follow still that wandering fire, Cal. I have been wronged enough to arm my "hat has misled your weary steps, and leaves you
temper Jenighted in a wilderness of woe,
Against the smooth delusion; but alas! Chat false Lothario? Turn from the deceiver; (Chide not my weakness, gentle maid, but pity furn, and behold where gentle Altamont,
me) Kind as the softest virgin of our sex,
A woman's softness bangs about me still: And faithful as the simple village swain, Then let me blush, and tell thee all my folly. That never knew the courtly vice of changing, I swear I could not see the dear betrayer Sighs at your feet, and wooes you to be happy. Kneel at my feet, and sigh to be forgiven,
Cal. Away! I think not of him. My sad soul But my relenting heart would pardon all,
Luc. Ye sacred powers, whose gracious proviAn unfrequented vale, o'ergrown with trees,
dence Mossy and old, within whose lonesome shade Is watchful for our good, guard me from men, Ravens, and birds ill-omened, only dwell: From their deceitful tongues, their vows, and No sound to break the silence, but a brook
flatteries! That, bubbling, winds among the weeds: no mark Still let me pass neglected by their eyes, Of any human shape that had been there, Let my bloom wither, and my form decay, Unless a skeleton of some poor wretch, That none may think it worth his while to ruin Who had long since, like me, by love undone, Sought that sad place out, to despair and die in! And fatal love may never be my bane ! (Erit. Luc. Alas, for pity!
Cal. Ha, Altamont !--Calista, now be wary, Cal. There I fain would hide me
And guard thy souls accesses with dissenbling: From the base world, from malice, and from Nor let this hostile husband's eyes explore shame!
The warring passions, and tumultuous thoughts, For 'tis the solemn counsel of my soul
That rage within thee, and deform thy reason. Never to live with public loss of honour: 'Tis fixed to die, rather than bear the insolence
Enter ALTAMONT. Of each affected she that tells my story,
Alt. Begone, my cares, I give you to the winds, And blesses her good stars that she is virtuous. Far to be borne, far from the happy Altamont ! To be a tale for fools ! scorned by the women,
For from this sacred æra of my love, And pitied by the men! Oh, insupportable ! A better order of succeeding days
Luc. Can you perceive the manifest destruction, Comes smiling forward, white and lucky all. The gaping gulf that opens just before you,
Calista is the mistress of the year ; And yet rush on, though conscious of the danger? She crowns the season with auspicious beauty, Oh, hear me, hear your ever faithful creature ! And bids even all my hours be good and joyful. By all the good I wish, by all the ill
Cal. If I were ever mistress of such happiness, My trembling heart forebodes, let me intreat you, Oh! wherefore did I play the unthrifty fool, Never to see this faithless man again;
And, wasting all on others, 'eave myself Let me forbid his coming.
Without one thought of joy to give me comfort ! Cal. On thy life
Alt. Oh, mighty Love! Shall that fair face I charge thee no: my genius drives me on;
profane I must, I will behold him once again :
This thy great festival with frowns and sadness! Perhaps it is the crisis of my fate,
I swear it shall not be, for I will woo thee.