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 ; 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-
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.
False ones, my lord! 385 Hor. Fatally fair they are, and in their smiles, The graces, little loves, and young desires inhabit;
But all that gaze upon 'em are undone,
For they are false, luxurious in their appetites,
377 wants. F, waits. 380 Oh . . . never. F omits last never. 387 loves. 1732, lovers.
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; '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
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 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
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.
Scene, a Hall.
Enter Calista and Lucilla.
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
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
Has form'd a dismal, melancholy scene, Such a retreat as I wou'd wish to find; An unfrequented vale, o'er-grown with trees Mossie and old, within whose lonesom shade Ravens and birds ill-omen'd only dwell; No sound to break the silence, but a brook That bubling winds among the weeds; no mark 25 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!
There I fain wou'd hide me 30 From the base world, from malice, and from
For 't is the solemn counsel of my soul, Never to live with publick loss of honour: T is 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 destruc- tion,
The gaping gulf that opens just before you, tho' conscious of the danger?
25 winds. 1714 and 1732 misprint, wind's. 39-41 Can you . danger. F omits.
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.
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 enterview shall end my cares. My lab'ring heart, that swells with indignation, Heaves to discharge the burthen; that once done, The busie thing shall rest within its cell,
Luc. 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.
Cal. I have been wrong'd enough, to arm my
Against the smooth delusion; but, alas! (Chide not my weakness, gentle maid, but pity me)
A woman's softness hangs about me still: Then let me blush, and tell thee all my folly. I swear I could not see the dear betrayer
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