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Lav. Alas! you know not what you make me

suffer.

Why are you pale? Why did you start and tremble?
Whence is that sigh? and wherefore are your eyes
Severely rais'd to Heav'n? The sick man thus,
Acknowledging the summons of his fate,
Lifts up his feeble hands and eyes for mercy,
And with confusion thinks upon his exit.

Hor. Oh, no! thou hast mistook my sickness quite; These pangs are of the soul. Wou'd I had met 361 Sharpest convulsions, spotted pestilence,

Or any other deadly foe to life,

Rather than heave beneath this load of thought!

Lav. Alas! what is it?" Wherefore turn you from

me?

"Why did you falsely call me your Lavinia, "And swear I was Horatio's better half, "Since now you mourn unkindly by yourself, "And rob me of my partnership of sadness? "Witness, ye holy pow'rs, who know my truth, "There cannot be a chance in life so miserable, "Nothing so very hard but I could bear it, "Much rather than my love should treat me coldly, "And use me like a stranger to his heart."

Hor. Seek not to know what I would hide from all, But most from thee. I never knew a pleasure, Ought that was joyful, fortunate, or good,

But straight I ran to bless thee with the tidings,
And laid up all my happiness with thee:

But wherefore, wherefore should I give thee pain?

Then spare me, I conjure thee; ask no further; 381
Allow my melancholy thoughts this privilege,
And let 'em brood in secret o'er their sorrows.
Lav. It is enough; chide not, and all is well!
Forgive me if I saw you sad, Horatio,

And ask'd to weep out part of your misfortunes:
I wo' not press to know what you forbid me.
Yet, my lov'd lord, yet you must grant me this,
Forget your cares for this one happy day,
Devote this day to mirth, and to your Altamont;
For his dear sake, let peace be in your looks.
Ev'n now the jocund bridegroom waits your wishes,
He thinks the priest has but half bless'd his marriage,
"Till his friend hails him with the sound of joy.

Hor. Oh, never, never, never! Thou art innocent: Simplicity from ill, pure native truth,

And candour of the mind, adorn thee ever;
But there are such, such false ones, in the world,
Twould fill thy gentle soul with wild amazement
To hear their story told.

Lav. False ones, my lord!

Hor. Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles

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The graces, little loves, and young desires inhabit ; but all that gaze upon 'em are undone ;

or they are false, luxurious in their appetites, And all the Heav'n they hope for is variety : One lover to another still succeeds,

Another, and another after that,

And the last fool is welcome as the former;

ill having lov'd his hour out, he gives place,

And mingles with the herd that went before him.

Lav. Can there be such, and have they peace of

mind?

Have they, in all the series of their changing,
One happy hour? If women are such things,
How was I form'd so different from my sex!
My little heart is satisfied with you;

You take up all her room, as in a cottage
Which harbours some benighted princely stranger,
Where the good man, proud of his hospitality,
Yields all his homely dwelling to his guest,

And hardly keeps a corner for himself.

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Hor. Oh, were they all like thee, nen would adore

'em,

And all the business of their lives be loving;
The nuptial band should be the pledge of peace,
And all domestic cares and quarrels cease;

The world should learn to love by virtuous rules,
And marriage be no more the jest of fools. [Exeunt.

Act II. SCENE I.

A Hall. Enter CALISTA and LUCILLA.

Calista.

BE dumb for ever, silent as the grave,
Nor let thy fond officious love disturb
My solemn sadness with the sound of joy.

If thou wilt sooth me, tell some dismal tale
Of pining discontent, and black despair;

For, Oh! I've gone around through all my thoughts, But all are indignation, love, or shame,

And my dear peace of mind is lost for ever.

Luc. Why do you follow still that wand'ring fire, That has misled your weary steps, and leaves Benighted in a wilderness of woe,

you

That false Lothario? Turn from the deceiver;
Turn, and behold where gentle Altamont,
"Kind as the softest virgin of our sex,
"And faithful as the simple village swain,
"That never knew the courtly vice of changing,"
Sighs at your feet, and woes you to be happy.
Cal. Away! I think not of him. My sad soul
Has form'd a dismal melancholy scene,
Such a retreat as I would wish to find;
An unfrequented vale, o'ergrown with trees
Mossy and old, within whose lonesome shade
Ravens, and birds ill-omen'd only dwell:
No sound to break the silence, but a brook
That bubbling winds among the weeds: no mark
Of any human shape that had been there,
Unless a skeleton of some poor wretch,

Who had long since, like me, by love undone,
Sought that sad place out, to despair and die in.
Luc. Alas, for pity!

Cal. There I fain would hide me

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From the base world, from malice, and from shame; For 'tis the solemn counsel of my soul

D

Never to live with public loss of honour:

'Tis fix'd to die, rather than bear the insolence Of each affected she that tells my story,

And blesses her good stars that she is virtuous.
To be a tale for fools! Scorn'd by the women,
And pity'd by the men! Oh, insupportable!
Luc. Can you perceive the manifest destruction,
The gaping gulf that opens just before you,
And yet rush on, tho' conscious of the danger?
Oh, hear me, hear your ever faithful creature!
By all the good I wish, by all the ill

My trembling heart forebodes, let me intreat you,
Never to see this faithless man again;

Let me forbid his coming.

Cal. On thy life

I charge thee no: my genius drives me on;
I must, I will behold him once again:
Perhaps it is the crisis of my fate,

And this one interview shall end my cares.
My lab'ring heart that swells with indignation,
Heaves to discharge the burthen; that once done,
The busy thing shall rest within its cell,*

And never beat again.

Luc. Trust not to that:

Rage is the shortest passion of our souls:

Like narrow brooks that rise with sudden show'rs,
It swells in haste, and falls again as soon;

Still as it ebbs the softer thoughts flow in,

And the deceiver Love supplies its place.

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бо

Cal. I have been wrong'd enough to arm my temper

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