With sighs so moving, with so warm a transport, | That thou shalt catch the gentle flame from me, And kindle into joy.

Cul. I tell thee, Altamont,

Such hearts as ours were never paired above:
Ill-suited to each other; joined, not matched;
Some sullen influence, a foe to both,

Has wrought this fatal marriage to undo us.
Mark but the frame and temper of our minds,
How very much we differ. Even this day,
That fills thee with such ecstacy and transport,
To me brings nothing that should make me
bless it,

Or think it better than the day before,
Or any other in the course of time,
That duly took its turn, and was forgotten.

Alt. If to behold thee as my pledge of happi

pause,

But fill up every minute of this day! 'Tis yours, my children, sacred to your loves; The glorious sun himself for you looks gay; He shines for Altamont and for Calista. Let there be music; let the master touch The sprightly string, and softly-breathing flute, "Till harmony rouse every gentle passion, Teach the cold maid to lose her fears in love, And the fierce youth to languish at her feet. Begin even age itself is cheared with music; It wakes a glad remembrance of our youth, Calls back past joys, and warms us into transport. [Music.

SONG.

The rich man's insolence, and great man's scor, In wine shall be forgotten all. To-morrow Will be too soon to think, and to be wretched Oh, grant, ye powers, that I may see these happy [Pointing to ALT. and CAL

Completely blest, and I have life enough; And leave the rest indifferently to fate. [Erar Hor. What if, while all are here, intent on re velling,

I privately went forth, and sought Lothario? This letter may be forged; perhaps the wantor

ness

Of his vain youth, to stain a lady's fame; Perhaps his malice to disturb my friend.— Oh, no! my heart forebodes it must be true. Methought, even now, I marked the starts guilt

That shook her soul, though damned dissimul tion

Screened her dark thoughts, and set to public view

A specious face of innocence and beauty. Oh, false appearance! What is all our sove reignty,

Our boasted power? When they oppose their arts, Still they prevail, and we are found their fools. With such smooth looks, and many a gente word,

The first fair she beguiled her easy lord; Too blind with love and beauty to beware, He fell unthinking in the fatal snare; Nor could believe that such a heavenly face Had bargained with the devil, to damn her wretched race. [East

SCENE II.-The Street near SCIOLTO's Palace.

Enter LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.

Loth. To tell thee then the purport of my

thoughts;

Too charming, too relentless maid?

I follow, not to conquer, but to die;
You of the fearful are afraid.

In vain I call; for she, like fleeting air,
When pressed by some tempestuous wind,
Flies swifter from the voice of my despair,
Nor casts one pitying look behind.

Sci. Take care my gates be open, bid all wel

come;

All who rejoice with me to-day are friends:
Let each indulge his genius, each be glad,
Jocund and free, and swell the feast with mirth;
The sprightly bowl shall chearfully go round,
None shall be grave, nor too severely wise;
Losses and disappointments, cares and poverty,

Shall

put your life and safety to the hazard.

[They confer aside.

Hor. I sought you, sir.

Loth. 'Tis well, then, I am found.

Hor. 'Tis well you are. The man, who wrongs
my friend,

To the earth's utmost verge I would pursue.
No place, though e'er so holy, should protect

him:

No shape, that artful fear e'er formed, should hide him,

Till he fair answer made, and did me justice. Loth. Ha! dost thou know me, that I am Lothario?

As great a name as this proud city boasts of? Who is this mighty man, then, this Horatio, That I should basely hide me from his anger, Lest he should chide me for his friend's displeasure?

Hor. The brave, 'tis true, do never shun the light;

Just are their thoughts, and open are their tem

spirit,

When but this very morning I surprised thee,
In base, dishonest privacy consulting,
And bribing a poor mercenary wretch
To sell her lady's secrets, stain her honour,
And, with a forged contrivance, blast her virtue?
At sight of me thou fled'st.

Loth. Ha! fled from thee?

Hor. Thou filed'st, and guilt was on thee, like a thief,

A pilferer, descried in some dark corner,
Who there had lodged, with mischievous intent,
To rob and ravish at the hour of rest,
And do a midnight murder on the sleepers.
Loth. Slave! villain!

[Offers to draw, ROSSANO holds him. Ros. Hold, my lord! think where you are, Think how unsafe and hurtful to your honour It were to urge a quarrel in this place, And shock the peaceful city with a broil. Loth. Then, since thou dost provoke my vengeance, know,

I would not, for this city's wealth, for all
Which the sea wafts to our Ligurian shore,
But that the joys I reaped with that fond wanton,
The wife of Altamont, should be as public
As is the noon-day sun, air, earth, or water,
Or any common benefit of nature.

Think'st thou I meant the shame should be concealed!

Oh, no! by hell and vengeance, all I wanted

To the dull doating husband: now I've found

him,

And thou art he.

Hor. I hold thee base enough

To break through law, and spurn at sacred order,
And do a brutal injury like this;

Yet mark me well, young lord: I think Calista
Too nice, too noble, and too great a soul,
To be the prey of such a thing as thou art.
'Twas base and poor, unworthy of a man,
To forge a scroll so villainous and loose,
And mark it with a noble lady's name:
These are the mean dishonest arts of cowards,
Strangers to manhood, and to glorious dangers;
Who, bred at home in idleness and riot,
Ransack for mistresses the unwholesome stews,
And never know the worth of virtuous love.

Loth. Think'st thou I forged the letter? Think

so still,

Till the broad shame come staring in thy face, And boys shall hoot the cuckold as he passes.

Hor. Away! no woman could descend so low:
A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are;
Fit only for yourselves, you herd together;
And when the circling glass warms your vain
hearts,

You talk of beauties that you never saw,
And fancy raptures that you never knew.
Legends of saints, who never yet had being,
Or, being, ne'er were saints, are not so false
As the fond tales which you recount of love.
Loth. But that I do not hold it worth my lei-

Though I think greatly of Calista's virtue,
And hold it far beyond thy power to hurt;
Yet, as she shares the honour of my Altamont,
That treasure of a soldier, bought with blood,
And kept at life's expence, I must not have
(Mark me, young sir) her very name profaned.
Learn to restrain the licence of your speech;
'Tis held you are too lavish. When you are met
Among your set of fools, talk of your dress,
Of dice, of whores, of horses, and yourselves;
'Tis safer, and becomes your understandings.
Loth. What if we pass beyond this solemn or-
der,

And, in defiance of the stern Horatio,
Indulge our gayer thoughts, let laughter loose,
And use his sacred friendship for our mirth?
Hor. 'Tis well, sir, you are pleasant.
Loth. By the joys

Which my soul yet has uncontrouled pursued,
I would not turn aside from my least pleasure,
Though all thy force were armed to bar my way;
But, like the birds, great Nature's happy com-

moners,

That haunt in woods, in meads, and flowery gardens,

Rifle the sweets, and taste the choicest fruits,
Yet scorn to ask the lordly owner's leave.

Hor. What liberty has vain presumptuous youth,
That thou shouldst dare provoke me unchastised?
But henceforth, boy, I warn thee, shun my walks:
If, in the bounds of yon forbidden place,
Again thou'rt found, expect a punishment,
Such as great souls, impatient of an injury,
Exact from those who wrong them much; even
death,

Or something worse: an injured husband's vengeance

Shall print a thousand wounds, tear thy fair form, And scatter thee to all the winds of Heaven!

Loth. Is, then, my way in Genoa prescribed By a dependent on the wretched Altamont, A talking sir, that brawls for him in taverns, And vouches for his valour's reputation? Hor. Away! thy speech is fouler than thy

manners.

Loth. Or, if there be a name more vile, his parasite ;

A beggar's parasite!

Hor. Now, learn humanity,

[Offers to strike him, ROSSANO interposes. Since brutes and boys are only taught with blows. Loth. Damnation! [They draw.

Ros. Hold, this goes no further here.
Horatio, 'tis too much; already see
The crowd are gathering to us.
Loth. Oh, Rossano !

Could I but prosper there, I would not doubt
My combat with that loud vain-glorious boaster,
Were you, ye fair, but cautious whom ye trust,
Did you but think how seldom fools are just,
So many of your sex would not in vain,
Of broken vows, and faithless men, complain:
Of all the various wretches love has made,
How few have been by men of sense betrayed!
Convinced by reason, they your power confess,
Pleased to be happy, as you're pleased to bless,
And, conscious of your worth, can never love you
less.
[Erit.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in SCIOLTO's Palace.

Enter SCIOLTO and CALISTA.

Sci. Now, by my life, my honour, 'tis too much!
Have I not marked thee, wayward as thou art,
Perverse and sullen all this day of joy?
When every heart was cheered, and mirth went
round,

Sorrow, displeasure, and repining anguish,
Sat on thy brow; like some malignant planet,
Foe to the harvest and the healthy year,
Who scowls adverse, and lours upon the world,
When all the other stars, with gentle aspect,
Propitious shine, and meaning good to man.

Cal. Is then the task of duty half performed?
Has not your daughter given herself to Altamont,
Yielded the native freedom of her will
To an imperious husband's lordly rule,
To gratify a father's stern command?
Sci. Dost thou complain?

Cal. For pity do not frown then,
If, in despite of all my vowed obedience,
A sigh breaks out, or a tear falls by chance:
For, oh! that sorrow, which has drawn your a
ger,

Is the sad native of Calista's breast;
And, once possessed, will never quit its dwelling,
Till life, the prop of all, shall leave the building,
To tumble down, and moulder into ruin.

Sci. Now by the sacred dust of that dear saint That was thy mother; by her wondrous goodness, Her soft, her tender, most complying sweetness, I swear, some sullen thought, that shuns the light, Lurks underneath that sadness in thy visage. But mark me well! though, by yon Heaven, I love

thee

Had rent asunder nature's nearest ties,
Which, once divided, never join again.
To-day I've made a noble youth thy husband!
Consider well his worth, reward his love:
Be willing to be happy, and thou art so.

[Exit SCIOLTO,
Cal. How hard is the condition of our sex,
Through every state of life the slaves of man!
In all the dear delightful days of youth
A rigid father dictates to our wills,
And deals out pleasure with a scanty hand.
To his, the tyrant husband's reign succeeds;
Proud with opinion of superior reason,
He holds domestic business and devotion
All we are capable to know, and shuts us,
Like cloistered ideots, from the world's acquaint-

ance,

And all the joys of freedom. Wherefore are we
Born with high souls, but to assert ourselves,
Shake off this vile obedience they exact,
And claim an equal empire o'er the world?
Enter HORATIO.

Hor. She's here! yet, oh! my tongue is at a loss.

Teach me, some power, that happy art of speech,
To dress my purpose up in gracious words;
Such as may softly steal upon her soul,
And never waken the tempestuous passions.
By Heaven she weeps !——Forgive me, fair Ca-
lista,

If I presume on privilege of friendship,

To join my grief to yours, and mourn the evils That hurt your peace, and quench those eyes in

For, oh! as sure as you accuse me falsely,
I come to prove myself Calista's friend.

Cal. You are my husband's friend, the friend of Altamont.

Hor. Are you not one? Are you not joined by
Heaven,

Each interwoven with the other's fate?
Are you not mixt, like streams of meeting rivers,
Whose blended waters are no more distinguished,
But roll into the sea, one common flood?
Then who can give his friendship but to one?
Who can be Altamont's and not Calista's?
Cal. Force, and the wills of our imperious
rulers,

May bind two bodies in one wretched chain;
But minds will still look back to their own choice.
So the poor captive in a foreign realm,
Stands on the shore, and sends his wishes back
To the dear native land from whence he came.
Hor. When souls, that should agree to will the
same,

To have one common object for their wishes,
Look different ways, regardless of each other,
Think what a train of wretchedness ensues:

words,

Which thou would'st seem unwilling to express,
As if it meant dishonour to my virtue?
Away with this ambiguous shuffling phrase,
And let thy oracle be understood.

Hor. Lothario!

Cal. Ha! what would'st thou mean by him? Hor. Lothario and Calista! thus they join Two names, which Heaven decreed should never

meet.

Hence have the talkers of this populous city
A shameful tale.to tell, for public sport,
Of an unhappy beauty, a false fair one,
Who plighted to a noble youth her faith,
When she had given her honour to a wretch.

Cal. Death and confusion! Have I lived to this?
Thus to be treated with unmanly insolence!
To be the sport of a loose ruffian's tongue!
Thus to be used! thus! like the vilest creature,
That ever was a slave to vice and infamy!

Hor. By honour and fair truth, you wrong me

much;

For, on my soul, nothing but strong necessity
Could urge my tongue to this ungrateful office.
I came with strong reluctance, as if death
Had stood across my way, to save your honour,
Yours and Sciolto's, yours and Altamont's;
Like one who ventures through a burning pile,
To save his tender wife, with all her brood
Of little fondlings, from the dreadful ruin.

Cal. Is this the famous friend of Altamont,
For noble worth and deeds of arms renowned ?
Is this the tale-bearing officious fellow,
That watches for intelligence from eyes;
This wretched Argus of a jealous husband,
That fills his easy ears with monstrous tales,
And makes him toss, and rave, and wreak at
length

Bloody revenge on his defenceless wife,
Who guiltless dies, because her fool ran mad?

Hor. Alas, this rage is vain; for if your fame
Or peace be worth your care, you must be calm,
And listen to the means are left to save them.
'Tis now the lucky minute of your fate.
By me your genius speaks, by me it warns you,
Never to see that curst Lothario more;
Unless you mean to be despised, be shunned
By all our virtuous maids and noble matrons;
Unless you have devoted this rare beauty
To infamy, diseases, prostitution-

Cal. Dishonour blast thee, base, unmannered slave!

That dar'st forget my birth, and sacred sex,
And shock me with the rude unhallowed sound!
Hor. Here kneel, and in the awful face of
Heaven

Breathe out a solemn vow, never to see,
Nor think, if possible, on him that ruined thee;
Or, by my Altamont's dear life, I swear,
This paper,-nay, you must not fly,-this paper,
[Holding her.
This guilty paper shall divulge your shame.
Cal. What mean'st thou by that paper? What

contrivance

Hast thou been forging to deceive my father;
To turn his heart against his wretched daughter,
That Altamont and thou may share his wealth?
A wrong like this will make me even forget
The weakness of my sex.- -Oh, for a sword,
To urge my vengeance on the villain's hand,
That forged the scroll!

Hor. Behold! Can this be forged?.
See where Calista's name-

[Showing the Letter near. Cal. To atoms thus, [Tearing it. Thus let me tear the vile detested falsehood, The wicked, lying evidence of shame.

Hor. Confusion!

Cal. Henceforth, thou officious fool, Meddle no more, nor dare, even on thy life, To breathe an accent that may touch my virtue. I am myself the guardian of my honour, And will not bear so insolent a monitor.

Enter ALTAMONT.

Alt. Where is my life, my love, my charming bride,

Joy of my heart and pleasure of my eyes,
The wish, the care, and business of my youth?
Oh, let me find her, snatch her to my breast,
And tell her she delays my bliss too long,
Till my soft soul even sickens with desire.
Disordered!--and in tears !-Horatio too!
My friend is in amaze- -What can it mean?
Tell me, Calista, who has done thee wrong,

That my swift sword may find out the offender, And do thee ample justice.

Cal. Turn to him.

Alt. Horatio!

Cal. To that insolent. Alt. My friend !

Could he do this? He, who was half myself? One faith has ever bound us, and one reason Guided our wills. Have I not found him just, Honest as truth itself? And could he break The sanctity of friendship? Could he wound The heart of Altamont in his Calista?

Cal. I thought what justice I should find from thee!

Go fawn upon him, listen to his tale,
Applaud his malice, that would blast my fame,
And treat me like a common prostitute.
Thou art perhaps confederate in his mischief,
And wilt believe the legend, if he tells it.

Act. Oh, impious! what presumptuous wretch shall dare

To offer at an injury like that?

Priesthood, nor age, nor cowardice itself,
Shall save him from the fury of my vengeance.
Cal. The man who dared to do it was Hora

tio;

Thy darling friend; 'Twas Altamont's Horatio.
But mark me well; while thy divided heart
Doats on a villain that has wronged me thus,
No force shall drag me to thy hated bed.
Nor can my cruel father's power do more
Than shut me in a cloister: there, well pleased,
Religious hardships will I learn to bear,
To fast and freeze at midnight hours of prayer;
Nor think it hard, within a lonely cell,
With melancholy, speechless saints to dwell;
But bless the day I to that refuge ran,
Free from the marriage-chain, and from that ty-
rant man.
[Erit CALISTA.

Alt. She's gone; and, as she went, ten thou

sand fires

Shot from her angry eyes, as if she meant
Too well to keep the cruel vow she made.
Now, as thou art a man, Horatio, tell me,
What means this wild confusion in thy looks,
As if thou wert at variance with thyself,
Madness and reason combating within thee,
And thou wert doubtful which should get the
better?

Hor. I would be dumb for ever; but thy fate
Has otherwise decreed it. Thou hast seen
That idol of thy soul, that fair Calista;
Thou hast beheld her tears.

Alt. I've seen her weep;

I've seen that lovely one, that dear Calista,
Complaining, in the bitterness of sorrow,
That thou, my friend, Horatio, thou hast wronged
her.

Hor. That I have wronged her! had her eyes