Vile as thy self, a false perfidious fellow,
An infamous, believing, British husband.

Alt. I've wrong'd thee much, and heav'n has
well aveng'd it.

I have not, since we parted, been at peace,
Nor known one joy sincere; our broken friend-

ship

Pursu'd me to the last retreat of love,

Stood glaring like a ghost, and made me cold
with horror.

Misfortunes on misfortunes press upon me,
Swell o'er my head, like waves, and dash me

down.

Sorrow, remorse, and shame have torn my soul,
They hang like winter on my youthful hopes,
And blast the spring and promise of my year.

350

355

Lav. So flow'rs are gather'd to adorn a grave, 360 To lose their freshness amongst bones and rottenness,

And have their odours stifled in the dust.
Canst thou hear this, thou cruel, hard Horatio?
Canst thou behold thy Altamont undone ?
That gentle, that dear youth! canst thou be-
hold him,

His poor heart broken, death in his pale visage,
And groaning out his woes, yet stand un-
mov'd?

349 an. 1732 misprints, and.

365

Hor. The brave and wise I pity in misfor

tune,

But when ingratitude and folly suffers,

'Tis weakness to be touch'd.

Alt.

I wo' not ask thee 370

To pity or forgive me, but confess

This scorn, this insolence of hate is just;
'Tis constancy of mind, and manly in thee.
But oh! had I been wrong'd by thee, Horatio,
There is a yielding softness in my heart

Cou'd ne'er have stood it out, but I had ran,
With streaming eyes and open arms, upon thee,
And prest thee close, close!

Hor.

I must hear no more,

The weakness is contagious, I shall catch it,
And be a tame fond wretch.

Lav.

375

Where wou'dst thou go? 380

Wou'dst thou part thus? You sha' not, 't is im

possible;

For I will bar thy passage, kneeling thus;
Perhaps thy cruel hand may spurn me off,
But I will throw my body in thy way,

And thou shalt trample o'er my faithful bosom, 385
Tread on me, wound me, kill me e'er thou pass.
Alt. Urge not in vain thy pious suit, Lavinia,

I have enough to rid me of my pain.
Calista, thou hadst reach'd my heart before;

To make all sure, my friend repeats the blow: 390

*

Falls.

But in the grave our cares shall be forgotten,
There love and friendship cease.

Lav.

Lavinia runs to him and endeavours to raise

bim.

Speak to me, Altamont.

He faints! he dies! Now turn and see thy tri

umph;

My brother! But our cares shall end together;
Here will I lay all down by thy dear side,
Bemoan thy too hard fate, then share it with

thee,

And never see my cruel lord again.

Horatio runs to Altamont, and raises him in

his arms.

Hor. It is too much to bear! Look up, my

Altamont !

395

My stubborn, unrelenting heart has kill'd him.
Look up and bless me, tell me that thou liv'st. 400
Oh! I have urg'd thy gentleness too far.

He revives.
Do thou and my Lavinia both forgive me;
A flood of tenderness comes o'er my soul;
I cannot speak! I love! forgive! and pity

thee.

Alt. I thought that nothing cou'd have stay'd

my soul,

That long e'er this her flight had reach'd the

405

stars;

But thy known voice has lur'd her back again.
Methinks I fain wou'd set all right with thee,
Make up this most unlucky breach, and then,
With thine and heav'n's forgiveness on my soul,410
Shrink to my grave, and be at ease for ever.
Hor. By heav'n, my heart bleeds for thee;
ev'n this moment

I feel thy pangs of disappointed love.

Is it not pity that this youth shou'd fail,

That all this wond'rous goodness shou'd be lost,415 And the world never know it? oh my Alta

mont!

Give me thy sorrows, let me bear 'em for thee,
And shelter thee from ruin.

420

Lav. Oh my brother! Think not but we will share in all thy woes, We'll sit all day, and tell sad tales of love, And when we light upon some faithless woman, Some beauty, like Calista, false and fair, We'll fix our grief and our complaining there; We'll curse the nymph that drew the ruin on, And mourn the youth that was like thee undone. Exeunt. 425

End of the Fourth Act.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Scene is a room bung with black; on one side Lothario's body on a bier; on the other a table with a skull and other bones, a book, and a lamp on it. Calista is discover'd on a couch in black, her hair banging loose and disordered: after musick and a song, she rises and comes forward.

SONG

I

Hear, you midnight phantoms, hear,
You who pale and wan appear,

And fill the wretch, who wakes, with fear.

You who wander, scream, and groan,

Round the mansions once your own,
You, whom still your crimes upbraid,
You, who rest not with the dead;
From the coverts where you stray,
Where you lurk, and shun the day,
From the charnel and the tomb,
Hither haste ye, hither come.

II

Chide Calista for delay,
Tell her, 't is for her you stay;
Bid her die, and come away.
See the sexton with his spade,
See the grave already made;
Listen, fair one, to thy knell,
This musick is thy passing bell.
Song. Fomits.

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10

15