 | Werter |  |
7
ACT. I.
SCENE I.
WERTER's Apartment.Enter SEBASTIAN and LEUTHROP.
Sebastian.
Is then my friend so much afflicted?
Can Werter be thus chang'd?
Leuthrop.
Alas!
So chang'd of late he's scarcely to be known;
Those scenes which once delight'd please no more,
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But pines in solitude, and ever wastes
The live long day in grief.
Sebastian.
Such were my fears.
For every letter breath'd the said reverse:
Can you unfold the cause?
Leuthrop.
Love is the cause.
Sebastian.
Ah! then I dread the tale—for well I know
How passion sways my friend.—Yet quickly say
Who has engag'd his love?
Leuthrop.
One much too fair,
Too rich in virtue's choicest gifts, t'escape
The quick discerning eye of kindred worth:
Her name is Charlotte, Walheim's proudest boast.
Sebastian.
And whence arose this passion?
Leuthrop.
I'll tell thee all;
Some few nights past, intreated by a friend,
He went to mingle in a revel here,
The lovely Charlotte graced the ball—her eye
Was fix'd on him alone; too soon he saw
And own'd its power—Thence their passions grew,
And now each sees how much the other loves.
Sebastian.
Why then lament? Methinks he shou'd be blest
Beyond his utmost hopes.—
9
O! No, a rival,
A generous rival, stands between his love;
His name is Albert, and his honour sounds
Wherever sounds his name.—His various virtues
Long since endear'd him to Charlotte's friends,
And friendship has supplied the want of love,
For she has yielded to his suit.
Sebastian.
Heavens!
What scenes of sorrow open to my view;
How can I act?—Has Albert heard this tale?
Leuthrop.
No; he is distant hence, and little thinks
How much my master loves; but soon returns
To wed his lovely prize, and then your friend
Must leave for ever what he holds most dear;
Prepare him Heaven for so great a trial.
Sebastian.
Alas! poor Werter, oh! 'twas kindly done
To hide this story from thine anxious friends;
Thine own afflictions nobly boded their's.
Leuthrop.
Yet, when he sees you, he'll unload his heart
And pour his sorrows forth.—I know him well—
Ah! you remember, Sir, the time has been
When Werter was the happiest of his friends;
Alas! how chang'd the scene—forgive my tears—
He has no pang that it not felt by me.
Sebastian.
Nay, weep not, Leuthrop; happy days
Will soon revive.—But leave
Werter approaches.
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Werter.
Ha! welcome, my Sebastian!
My heart exults to see my friend again.
O! to what angel do I owe this bliss,
This best of blessings?
Sebastian.
Thou ow'st it to thy grief;
I thought affliction lurk'd in Werter's breast,
And therefore came to prove myself his friend.
Werter.
Would I could thank thee for thy generous thought,
For Heaven can witness, that I need a friend.
Yes, I've been wretched since we parted last;
Pleasure is driven from her late abode,
And sorrow—ceaseless sorrow—triumphs there!
Sebastian.
I know the whole, and much lament thy fate;
Yet, Werter—yet there is a way mark'd out
To banish all thy cares.
Werter.
O! name it.
Sebastian.
Forsake this spot beset with dangers round;
Forget the fatal image of thy love,
And fly with me to Manheim. There our friends—
Werter.
Go tell the wretch expiring on the rack
To think not of his pains: Go tell the Sun
To quit its sphere: And when these deeds are done,
Then talk of Werter of forgetting Charlotte.
If all the charms that virtue can bestow;
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If all that's perfect can be thus forgot;
Why is it Gods, such excellence is made?
Sebastian.
Why nurse a passion then thou know'st was vain?
Reason should shudder at a thought so wild.
Werter.
Reason is banish'd from a lover's mind,
For love admits of no associate there;
Had icy apathy congeal'd my soul,
It must have melted at my Charlotte's looks.
My friend, such looks! as pitying angels give
To dying saints alone,
Sebastian.
Yet, had reason reign'd
'Twou'd place a dismal prospect to thy view,
'Twould tell thee to avoid the gathering storm
That must be fatal, if not quickly shun'd.
Werter.
Oh, I am grown so careless of myself,
Nor storms, nor dangers can appal me now;
Place me alone 'midst hot Arabia's sands;
Leave me unclad 'midst freezing Zembla's snow;
Find me where mortal never trod before;
And only tell me that my Charlotte loves,
And hopeless Werter shall be happier far,
Than monarchs glittering on triumphant thrones.
Sebastian.
Has love then banish'd honour from thy breast,
Or art thou senseless of the wrongs design'd
The generous Albert! That, that alone
Should check thy boasted transports.
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O, my friend,
Thou'st touch'd the cord that sounds to all my woes—
To that alone I owe my present pangs.
Sebastian.
Ah, he begins to soften into reason.
Werter.
O, had my rival borne a worthless name,
Or us'd deception to obtain his suit,
Or play'd the villain in a single act,
I'd not have yielded, or suffer'd thus;
But Albert is the gentlest, best of men:
Yes, he has shewn such nobleness of mind,
Such truth, such honour, and such generous love,
That by my soul! I'd rather be despis'd
By her I idolize, than injure him.
Sebastian.
Mysterious heaven! why is a soul so good
Tortur'd with pangs the bad alone should feel?
Werter.
He is so honour'd and esteem'd by all,
That though my rival, he must be my friend.
Yes; I will emulate his noble virtues;
Convince him Werter merits his esteem,
And shew Sebastian that my honour's safe.
Sebastian.
Werter's himself again! and reason now
With double force returns—Wilt thou forgive
The rash expressions that my harshness dropt?
Werter.
To sue forgiveness is for me, my friend.
My joys, when joy did revel in this breast,
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But when his friendship would partake my grief,
I owe him much indeed—and much I fear
I never can requite him.
Sebastian.
Ah, how blest,
How well rewarded would Sebastian be,
Could he but think he came not here in vain?
Werter.
Of that hereafter—I must leave thee now,
To pay the summons of inviting love:
Oh, I am wandering to a paradise,
Where fruits ambrosial bloom! which heav'n has doom'd
Fatal to Werter as the tree of old!
[Exeunt.
SCENE, Charlotte's Apartments.
Enter CHARLOTTE and LAURA.
(Charlotte, reading a letter.)
Albert returns to night—he little thinks
What ravages a few short hours have made
In this distracted breast: Laura, he comes
To take possession of my promis'd hand,
And claim that love his virtue well deserves!
How will his hopes be dash'd then, when he finds
That all the labours of three tedious years;
One night, one fatal night, has quite eras'd.
Laura.
Banish these thoughts—they serve but to enhance
The sad remembrance of an hopeless love,
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Talk not of love, it has destroy'd my peace:
O, had not Werter's lovely form appear'd,
I still had liv'd unconscious of these pangs!
And Albert's friendship Werter's love supply'd;
But he has shewn the God in all his charms,
With each allurement to seduce the soul,
And then has left me to deplore and die!
Laura.
Think not of Werter—'Twas thy solemn vow
To wed with Albert.
Charlotte.
And I'll maintain that vow;
Think'st thou that honour will descend to kneel
At love's fantastick throne? No, Laura! no;
Albert deservedly has gain'd my heart;
Some sighs may heave, some tears in pity fall,
When memory muses on another's fate;
But truth and constancy shall never cease
To pay that debt the generous Albert claims.
Enter WERTER.
Werter.
My better angel!—O, at sight of thee,
The gloomy winter in my bosom thaws,
And sunshine smiles again.
Charlotte.
O, Werter!
Werter.
What means my Charlotte?
Charlotte.
Alas! my Werter,
There in that letter read thy hopeless fate.
15
(having read the letter.)
Albert return to night!—Then am I curst indeed.
Charlotte.
Wou'd I could sooth the anguish of thy soul;
But well thou know'st honour denies thee that
Which best might give relief—yet, if the balm
Of healing pity will assuage thy pain,
Still thou art somewhat blest! for even now—
My heart is bleeding for the wounds of thine.
Werter.
Generous Charlotte!—but oh! what needed this?
If sympathy could heal my rankl'd wounds,
I knew that thou would'st pour the balsam on;
'Twas madness only that has made me thus,
And only that can save me!
Charlotte.
No, Werter;
'Tis Charlotte only that has made thee thus—
She is the origin of all thy woes!
Werter.
Perish the thought!—I am myself the cause,
Thou art the lovely soother of my cares;
My guardian angel! sent by pitying heav'n
To compensate my every other ill;—
And yet there is another that should claim
My warmest gratitude.
Charlotte.
O shun me! fly me!
I am a syren fatal to behold,
And ruin those I ever should protect;
Sure heaven has made me only to destroy.
16
Tell me delusion lurks beneath thy smiles;
Tell me destruction works within thine eye;
Tell me contagion hangs upon thy tongue;
And I will still love on, and still be happy:
But when thou tell'st me to avoid that form,
Death has no terrors! hell no pangs like mine:
Ah, whence those cruel fears!
Charlotte.
Thou best of men,
For thee they fall—anguish must have its vent,
Or the heart's blood would gush.
Werter.
If I have liv'd
To give one moment's misery to thee,
That moment I have liv'd too much—By heaven!
The frantic thought of adding woe to her,
Drives each ungenerous selfish sorrow hence,
And shews me what a shallow soul I have:
Oh, cease to weep, in a far worthier cause;
Thy sorrows might be shed.
Charlotte.
Never, Werter.
When virtue, such as thine, is tortur'd thus;
When love, the purest, is so ill bestow'd,
And noblest talents are in love so lost,
The sympathizing heart may surely melt;
And melting thus, may pour its wishes forth:
Fly then far hence—seek some more generous fair;
One who is worthy of a heart like thine!
And shou'd she ask the story of thy life,
Tell her, that Charlotte did abuse thy love:
Tell her, the only recompence she shew'd
For all thy sufferings was—to leave thee thus—
My heart no longer can support its pangs!
[Exit.
17
solus.
If ye have mercy Gods, O shew it now!
For never wretch did want your mercy more.
But hold—How shall my troubled mind resolve
If I remain?—'tis but to marr her peace—
'Tis but to check the generous Albert's bliss:
If I depart, the pain is all my own!
Where is that virtue then? that boasted honour,
That ever was my pride? O, shame, 'tis fled,
And Werter's but the shadow of himself!
Yet will I shew some firmness still remains,
And shake these demons from the dens they haunt!
Yes, I will leave her—e'en now I'll seek my friend,
Take one short farewell and depart to-night!
So may I live to bless that happy hour,
When honour nobly triumph'd over love!
[Exit.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
| Werter | |