Trust me it joys my heart that I have found

you.

Enquiring wherefore you had left the company,
Before my brother's nuptial rites were ended,
They told me you had felt some sudden illness;
Where are you sick? Is it your head? your
heart?

Tell me, my love, and ease my anxious thoughts,
That I may take you gently in my arms,
Sooth you to rest, and soften all your pains.
Hor. It were unjust: no, let me spare my

friend,

Lock up the fatal secret in my breast,
Nor tell him that which will undo his quiet.
Lav. What means my lord?

Hor.

Ha! saidst thou, my Lavinia ?

Lav. Alas! you know not what you make

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 audit.

330

335

340

Hor. Oh no! thou hast mistook my sickness

quite,

These pangs are of the soul.

Wou'd I had met Sharpest convulsions, spotted pestilences,

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?

345

350

Why did you falsly call me your Lavinia,
And swear I was Horatio's better half,
Since now you mourn unkindly by your self,
And rob me of my partnership of sadness?
Witness you holy pow'rs, who know my truth, 355
There cannot be a chance in life so miserable,
Nothing so very hard, but I cou'd bear it,
Much rather than my love shou'd treat me coldly,
And use me like a stranger to his heart.

Hor. Seek not to know what I wou'd hide

from all,

But most from thee. I never knew a pleasure,
Ought that was joyful, fortunate, or good,
But strait 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;

347 pestilences. F, pestilence.

355-359 Witness . . heart. F omits.

360

365

Allow my melancholy thoughts this privilege,
And let 'em brood in secret ofer their sorrows.

370

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 forbid me. you 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 ; 375 For his dear sake, let peace be in your looks. Ev'n now the jocund bridegroom wants your wishes,

He thinks the priest has but half blest his marriage, 'Till his friend hails him with the sound of joy. Hor. Oh never! never! never! Thou art in

nocent;

Simplicity from ill, pure native truth,

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

Lav.

False

380

ones, my lord! 385 Hor. Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles, The graces, little loves, and young desires in

habit;

But all that gaze upon 'em are undone,

For they are false, luxurious in their appetites,

377 wants. F, waits.

387 loves.

380 Oh... never. F omits last never.

1732, lovers.

And all the heav'n they hope for is variety : 390 One lover to another still succeeds,

Another, and another after that,

And the last fool is welcome as the former;
'Till having lov'd his hour out, he gives place,
And mingles with the herd that went before him. 395
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 satisfy'd with you,

You take up all her room; as in a cottage
Which harbours

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.

Hor. Oh were they all like thee, men would

adore 'em,

400

405

And all the bus'ness of their lives be loving;
The nuptial band should be the pledge of peace,
And all domestick cares and quarrels cease;
The world shou'd learn to love by virtuous rules, 410
And marriage be no more the jest of fools.

410 The world. F, The men.

End of the First Act.

Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Scene, a Hall.

Enter Calista and Lucilla.

grave.

Calista. Be dumb for ever, silent as the
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 thro' all my thoughts,
But all are indignation, love, or shame,
And my dear peace of mind is lost for ever.
Lucilla. Why do you follow still that
wand'ring fire,

That has miss-led your weary steps, and leaves

you

Benighted in a wilderness of woe?

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 wooes you to be happy.
Cal. Away, I think not of him. My sad soul