University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE, an Apartment in Sciolto's Palace.
Enter Sciolto and Calista.
Sci.
Now by my Life, my Honour, 'tis too much;
Have I not mark'd thee wayward as thou art,
Perverse and sullen all this Day of Joy?
When ev'ry Heart was chear'd, and Mirth went round,
Sorrow, Displeasure, and repining Anguish
Sate on thy Brow; like some malignant Planet,
Foe to the Harvest, and the healthy Year,
Who scouls 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 perform'd?
Has not your Daughter giv'n her self to Altamont,
Yielded the native Freedom of her Will,
To an Imperious Husband's lordly Rule,
To gratifie a Father's stern Command?

Sci.
Dost thou complain?

Cal.
For pity do not frown then,
If in despight of all my vow'd Obedience,
A Sigh breaks out, or a Tear falls by chance;
For oh! that Sorrow which has drawn your Anger,
Is the sad Native of Calista's Breast,
And once possest will never quit its Dwelling,
'Till Life, the Prop 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 wond'rous 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, tho' by yon Heaven I love thee,
As much, I think, as a fond Parent can;
Yet shou'dst thou (which the Pow'rs above forbid)
E'er stain the Honour of thy Name with Infamy,
I cast thee off, as one whose Impious Hands
Had rent asunder Nature's nearest Ties,
Which once divided never join again.
To Day, I have 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,
Thro' ev'ry 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 Domestick Bus'ness and Devotion
All we are capable to know, and shuts us,
Like Cloyster'd Ideots, from the World's Acquaintance,
And all the Joys of Freedom; wherefore are we
Born with high Souls, but to assert our selves,
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 Pow'r, 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 Calista,
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 Tears.

Cal.
To steal unlook'd for on my private Sorrow,
Speaks not the Man of Honour, nor the Friend,
But rather means the Spy.

Hor.
Unkindly said!
For oh! as sure as you accuse me falsly,
I come to prove my self Calista's Friend.

Cal.
You are my Husband's Friend, the Friend of Altamont.

Hor.
Are you not one? Are you not join'd by Heav'n,
Each interwoven with the other's Fate?
Are you not mix'd like Streams of meeting Rivers,
Whose blended Waters are no more distinguish'd,
But roul 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 Shoar, and sends his Wishes back
To the dear Native Land from whence he came.

Hor.
When Souls that shou'd 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:
Love shall be banish'd from the Genial Bed,
The Nights shall all be lonely and unquiet,
And ev'ry Day shall be a Day of Cares.

Cal.
Then all the boasted Office of thy Friendship,
Was but to tell Calista what a Wretch she is;
Alas! what needed that?

Hor.
Oh! rather say,
I came to tell her how she might be happy;
To sooth the secret Anguish of her Soul,
To comfort that Fair Mourner, that forlorn one,
And teach her Steps to know the Paths of Peace.

Cal.
Say thou to whom this Paradise is known,
Where lyes the blissful Region? Mark my way to it,
For oh! 'tis sure, I long to be at Rest.

Hor.
Then—to be Good is to be Happy;—Angels
Are happier than Mankind, because they are better.
Guilt is the source of Sorrow; 'tis the Fiend,
The avenging Fiend, that follows us behind
With Whips and Stings; the blest know none of this,
But rest in everlasting Peace of Mind,
And find the height of all their Heav'n is Goodness.

Cal.
And what bold Parasite's officious Tongue
Shall dare to tax Calista's Name with Guilt?

Hor.
None shou'd; but 'tis a busie, talking World,
That with licentious Breath blows like the Wind,
As freely on the Palace, as the Cottage.

Cal.
What mystick Riddle lurks beneath thy Words,
Which thou wou'dst 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 wou'dst thou mean by him?

Hor.
Lothario and Calista!—Thus they join
Two Names, which Heav'n decreed shou'd never meet;
Hence have the Talkers of this populous City,
A shameful Tale to tell for publick Sport,
Of an unhappy Beauty, a false Fair one,
Who plighted to a noble Youth her Faith,
When she had giv'n her Honour to a Wretch.

Cal.
Death! and Confusion! Have I liv'd to this?
Thus to be treated with unmanly Insolence!
To be the Sport of a loose Ruffian's Tongue!
Thus to be us'd! 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,
Cou'd urge my Tongue to this ungrateful Office:
I came with strong Reluctance, as if Death
Had stood a-cross my Way, to save your Honour,
Yours and Sciolto's, yours and Altamont's;
Like one who ventures thro' a burning Pile,
To save his tender Wife, with all her Brood
Of little Fondlings, from the dreadful Ruin.

Cal.
Is this! Is this the famous Friend of Altamont,
For noble Worth, and Deeds of Arms renown'd?
Is this! this Tale bearing,-officious Fellow,
That watches for Intelligence from Eyes;
This wretched Argus of a jealous Husband,
That fills his easie 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 'em.
'Tis now the lucky Minute of your Fate,
By me our Genius speaks, by me it warns you,
Never to see that curst Lothario more;
Unless you mean to be despis'd, be shunn'd,
By all your virtuous Maids and noble Matrons;
Unless you have devoted this rare Beauty
To Infamy, Diseases, Prostitution—

Cal.
Dishonour blast thee, base, unmanner'd Slave!
That dar'st forget my Birth, and sacred Sex,
And shock me with the rude unhallow'd Sound.

Hor.
Here kneel, and in the awful Face of Heav'n,
Breath out a solemn Vow, never to see,
Nor think, if possible, on him that ruin'd 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 meanst 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 ev'n forget
The Weakness of my Sex.—Oh for a Sword,
To urge my Vengeance on the villanous Hand
That forg'd the Scrowl.

Hor.
Behold, can this be forg'd?
See where Calista's Name—

[Shewing the Letter near.
Cal.
To Atoms thus,
[Tearing it.
Thus let me tear the vile, detested Falshood,
The wicked, lying Evidence of Shame.

Hor.
Confusion!

Cal.
Henceforth, thou officious Fool,
Meddle no more, nor dare ev'n on thy Life
To breath an Accent that may touch my Virtue:
I am my self the Guardian of my Honour,
And wo'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 Bus'ness 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 ev'n sickens with Desire.
Disorder'd!—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!
Cou'd he do this? He, who was half my self!
One Faith has ever bound us, and one Reason
Guided our Wills: Have I not found him just,
Honest as Truth it self? And cou'd he break
The Sanctity of Friendship? Cou'd 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 wou'd 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.

Alt.
Oh Impious! What presumptuous Wretch shall dare
To offer at an Injury like that?
Priesthood, nor Age, nor Cowardise it self,
Shall save him from the Fury of my Vengeance.

Cal.
The Man who dar'd to do it was Horatio!
Thy darling Friend! 'Twas Altamont's Horatio!
But mark me well! While thy divided Heart
Doats on a Villain that has wrong'd me thus,
No Force shall drag me to thy hated Bed;
Nor can my cruel Father's Pow'r do more
Than shut me in a Cloyster; there, well pleas'd,
Religious Hardships will I learn to bear,
To fast, and freeze at Midnight Hours of Pray'r;
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 Tyrant, Man.
[Exit Calista.

Alt.
She's gone; and as she went, Ten thousand 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 thy self,
Madness and Reason combating within thee,
And thou wert doubtful which shou'd get the better.

Hor.
I wou'd 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 have seen her weep,
I have seen that lovely one, that dear Calista,
Complaining in the Bitterness of Sorrow,
That thou! my Friend! Horatio! thou hadst wrong'd her.

Hor.
That I have wrong'd her! Had her Eyes been fed
From that rich Stream which warms her Heart, and number'd
For ev'ry falling Tear a Drop of Blood,
It had not been too much; for she has ruin'd thee,
Ev'n thee, my Altamont! She has undone thee.

Alt.
Dost thou join Ruin with Calista's Name?
What is so fair, so exquisitely good?
Is she not more than Painting can express,
Or youthful Poets fancy, when they love?
Does she not come, like Wisdom, or good Fortune,
Repleat with Blessings, giving Wealth and Honour?
The Dowry which she brings is Peace and Pleasure,
And everlasting Joys are in her Arms.

Hor.
It had been better thou hadst liv'd a Beggar,
And fed on Scraps at great Mens surly Doors,
Than to have match'd with one so false, so fatal.—

Alt.
It is too much for Friendship to allow thee;
Because I tamely bore the Wrong thou didst her,
Thou dost avow the barb'rous, brutal Part,
And urge the Injury ev'n to my Face.

Hor.
I see she has got Possession of thy Heart,
She has charm'd thee, like a Siren, to her Bed,
With Looks of Love, and with enchanting Sounds:
Too late the Rocks and Quick-sands will appear.
When thou art wreckt upon the faithless Shoar,
Then vainly wish thou hadst not left thy Friend,
To follow her Delusion.

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 shar'd the Task of Nature with thy Father,
And form'd with Care thy unexperienc'd Youth
To Virtue and to Arms.
Thy noble Father, oh thou light young Man!
Wou'd he have us'd me thus? One Fortune fed us,
For his was ever mine, mine his, and both
Together flourish'd, and together fell.
He call'd me Friend, like thee; wou'd he have left me
Thus? for a Woman? nay, 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 compell'd,
And forc'd to clear my self; but since thus urg'd,
I must avow I do not know a viler.

Alt.
Thou wert my Father's Friend, he lov'd thee well;
A kind of venerable Mark of him
Hangs round thee, and protects thee from my Vengeance:
I cannot, dare not lift my Sword against thee,
But henceforth never let me see thee more.

[Going out.
Hor.
I love thee still, ungrateful as thou art,
And must, and will preserve thee from Dishonour,
Ev'n in despight of thee.

[Holds him.
Alt.
Let go my Arm.

Hor.
If Honour be thy Care, if thou wou'dst live,
Without the Name of credulous, wittal Husband,
Avoid thy Bride, shun her detested Bed,
The Joys it yields are dash'd with Poyson.—

Alt.
Off!
To urge me but a Minute more is fatal.

Hor.
She is polluted! stain'd!

Alt.
Madness and Raving!
But hence!

Hor.
Dishonour'd by the Man you hate.—

Alt.
I prithee loose me yet, for thy own sake,
If Life be worth the keeping.—

Hor.
By Lothario.

Alt.
Perdition take thee, Villain, for the Falshood.
[Strikes him.
Now nothing but thy Life can make Atonement.

Hor.
A Blow! Thou hast us'd well.—

[Draws.
Alt.
This to thy Heart.—

Hor.
Yet hold!—By Heav'n his Father's in his Face.
Spight of my Wrongs my Heart runs o'er with Tenderness,
And I cou'd rather die my self, than hurt him.

Alt.
Defend thy self, for by my much wrong'd Love,
I swear the poor Evasion shall not save thee.

Hor.
Yet hold! thou know'st I dare!—Think how we've liv'd.—
[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,
To save those dearer Streams that flow from yours.

Alt.
'Tis well thou hast found a Safeguard; none but this,
No Pow'r on Earth cou'd save thee from my Fury.

Lav.
Oh 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 shew'd thee what it was to be a Man.

Lav.
What busie, medling 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 Coarse, 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,
Unweary'd with Forgiving, scarce cou'd pardon.
He who was all to me, Child! Brother! Friend!
With barb'rous, bloody Malice, sought my Life.

Alt.
Thou art my Sister, and I would not make thee
The lonely Mourner of a widdow'd 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; farewel.

[He is going, 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, sha'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 wond'rous 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
Sav'd from the Shipwreck of her Father's Fortunes.
One half is lost already; if thou leav'st me,
If thou shou'dst prove unkind to me, as Altamont,
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?
Tho' 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 Happiness.
Heav'n form'd 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 Pow'r, who clothes the senseless Earth,
With Woods, with Fruits, with Flow'rs, 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 Falshood and Inconstancy,
To some more honest distant Clime we'll go;
Nor will I be beholding to my Country,
For ought but thee, the Partner of my Flight.

Lav.
Yes, I will follow thee; forsake, for thee,
My Country, Brother, Friends, ev'n all I have;
Tho' mine's a little all; yet were it more,
And better far, it shou'd be left for thee,
And all that I wou'd keep shou'd be Horatio.
So when the Merchant sees his Vessel lost,
Tho' richly Freighted from a Foreign Coast,
Gladly, for Life, the Treasure he wou'd 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.