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"In vain I call; for she, like fleeting air,
"When press'd by some tempestuous wind,
"Flies swifter from the voice of my despair,
"Nor casts one pitying look behind.”

Sci. Take care my gates be open, bid all welcome; All who rejoice with me to-day are friends:

Let each indulge his genius, each be glad,
Jocund and free, and swell the feast with mirth;
The sprightly bowl shall chearfully go round,
None shall be grave, nor too severely wise;
Losses and disappointments, cares and poverty,
The rich man's insolence, and great man's scorn,
In wine shall be forgotten all. To-morrow
Will be too soon to think, and to be wretched.
Oh, grant, ye pow'rs, that I may see these happy,
[Pointing to Alt. and Cal.

Completely blest, and I have life enough;
And leave the rest indifferently to fate.

[Exeunt.

Hor. What if, while all are here intent on revelling,

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I privately went forth, and sought Lothario?
This letter may be forg'd; perhaps the wantonness
Of his vain youth, to stain a lady's fame;
Perhaps his malice to disturb my friend.
Oh, no! my heart forebodes it must be true.
Methought, ev'n now, I mark'd the starts of guilt
That shook her soul; tho' damn'd dissimulation
Screen'd her dark thoughts, and set to public view
A specious face of innocence and beauty.

"Oh, false appearance! What is all our sovereignty,

"Our boasted pow'r? When they oppose their arts, "Still they prevail, and we are found their fools." With such smooth looks, and many a gentle word, The first fair she beguil'd her easy lord; Too blind with love and beauty to beware, He fell unthinking in the fatal snare;

Nor could believe that such a heav'nly face

Had bargain'd with the devil, to damn her wretched

race.

SCENE II.

[Exit.

The Street near SCIOLTO's Palace. Enter LOTHARIO and ROSSANO.

Loth. To tell thee then the purport of my thoughts; The loss of this fond paper would not give me A moment of disquiet, were it not

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My instrument of vengeance on this Altamont;
Therefore I mean to wait some opportunity
Of speaking with the maid we saw this morning.
Ros. I wish you, Sir, to think upon
the danger
Of being seen; to-day their friends are round 'em ;
And any eye that lights by chance on you,
Shall put your life and safety to the hazard.

[They confer aside.

Enter HORATIO.

Hor. Still I must doubt some mystery of mischief,

Some artifice beneath. Lothario's father!

I knew him well; he was sagacious, cunning,

I

Fluent in words, and bold in peaceful counsels,
But of a cold, inactive hand in war;

Yet, with these coward's virtues, he undid
My unsuspecting, valiant, honest friend.

This son, if fame mistakes not, is more hot,

More open and unartful-Ha! he's here! [Seeing him. Loth. Damnation! He again!—This second time To-day he has cross'd me, like my evil genius.

Hor. I sought you, Sir.

Loth. 'Tis well then I am found.

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Hor. 'Tis well you are. The man who wrongs my

friend

To the earth's utmost verge I would pursue.

No place, tho' e'er so holy should protect him; No shape that artful fear e'er form'd should hide him, 'Till he fair answer made, and did me justice.

Loth. Ha! dost thou know me, that I am Lothario?

As great a name as this proud city boasts of.
Who is this mighty man, then, this Horatio,
That I should basely hide me from his anger,
Lest he should chide me for his friend's displeasure?
Hor. The brave, 'tis true, do never shun the light;
Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers,
Freely without disguise they love and hate,

Still are they found in the fair face of day,
And Heav'n and men are judges of their actions.

Loth. Such let 'em be of mine; there's not a purpose
Which my soul e'er fram'd, or my hand acted,
But I could well have bid the world look on,

And what I once durst do, have dar'd to justify.

Hor. Where was this open boldness, this free spirit,
When but this very morning I surpriz'd thee,
In base, dishonest privacy, consulting

And bribing a poor mercenary wretch,
To sell her lady's secrets, stain her honour,
And, with a forg'd contrivance, blast her virtue ì-
At sight of me thou fled'st.

Loth. Ha! fled from thee?

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Hor. Thou fled'st, and guilt was on thee, like a thief, A pilferer, descry'd in some dark corner,

Who there had lodg'd, with mischievous intent,
To rob and ravage at the hour of rest.

And do a midnight murder on the sleepers.
Loth. Slave! villain!

[Offers to draw, Rossano holds him.

Ros. Hold, my lord! think where you are, Think how unsafe and hurtful to your honour It were to urge a quarrel in this place,

And shock the peaceful city with a broil.

Loth. Then since thou dost provoke my vengeance, know

I would not, for this city's wealth, for all

Which the sea wafts to our Ligurian shore,

But that the joys I reap'd with that fond wanton,
The wife of Altamont, should be as public

As is the noon-day sun, air, earth, or water,

Or any common benefit of nature.

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Think'st thou I meant the shame should be conceal'd?

Oh, no! by hell and vengeance, all I wanted

Was some fit messenger to bear the news

But like the birds, great Nature's happy commoners,
That haunt in woods, in meads, and flow'ry gardens,
Rifle the sweets and taste the choicest fruits,
Yet scorn to ask the lordly owner's leave.

Hor. What liberty has vain presumptuous youth,
That thou should'st dare provoke me unchastis'd?
But henceforth, boy, I warn thee, shun my walks.
If in the bounds of yon forbidden place
Again thou'rt found, expect a punishment,
Such as great souls, impatient of an injury,

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Exact from those who wrong 'em much, ev'n death;
Or something worse: an injur'd husband's vengeance
Shall print a thousand wounds, tear thy fair form,
And scatter thee to all the winds of Heav'n.
Loth. Is then my way in Genoa prescrib'd
By a dependent on the wretched Altamont,
A talking Sir, that brawls for him in taverns,
And vouches for his valour's reputation?

Hor. Away! thy speech is fouler than thy manners.
Loth. Or, if there be a name more vile, his parasite;

A beggar's parasite!

Hor. Now learn humanity,

[Offers to strike him, Rossano interposes.

Since brutes and boys are only taught with blows.

Loth. Damnation !

Ros. Hold, this goes no further here.

Horatio, 'tis too much; already see

The crowd are gath'ring to us.

Loth. Oh, Rossano!

[They draw.

Or give me way, or thou'rt no more my friend.

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