Guilt is the source of sorrow! 'tis the fiend,

Th' avenging fiend that follows us behind

With whips and stings. The blest know none of this, But rest in everlasting peace of mind,

And find the height of all their heav'n is goodness.

Cal. And what bold parasite's officious tongue Shall dare to tax Calista's name with guilt?

Hor. None should; but 'tis a busy, talking world, That with licentious breath blows like the wind, As freely on the palace as the cottage.

Cal. What mystic riddle lurks beneath thy words, Which thou would'st seem unwilling to express, As if it meant dishonour to my virtue? Away with this ambiguous shuffling phrase, And let thy oracle be understood.

Hor. Lothario!

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Cal. Ha! what would'st thou mean by him? Hor. Lothario and Calista! thus they join Two names, which Heav'n decreed should never meet. Hence have the talkers of this populous city A shameful tale to tell, for public sport, Of an unhappy beauty, a false fair one, Who plighted to a noble youth her faith, When she had giv'n her honour to a wretch. Cal. Death and confusion! Have I liv'd to this? Thus to be treated with unmanly insolence ! To be the sport of a loose ruffian's tongue! Thus to be us'd! thus! like the vilest creature, That ever was a slave to vice and infamy.

Hor. By honour and fair truth, you wrong me much;
For, on my soul, nothing but strong necessity
Could urge my tongue to this ungrateful office.
I came with strong reluctance, as if death
Had stood across my way, to save your honour,
Your's and Sciolto's, your's and Altamont's;
Like one who ventures through a burning pile;
To save his tender wife, with all her brood
Of little fondlings, from the dreadful ruin.
Cal. Is this the famous friend of Altamont,
For noble worth and deeds of arms renown'd?
Is this the tale-bearing officious fellow,
That watches for intelligence from eyes;
This wretched Argus of a jealous husband,
That fills his easy ears with monstrous tales,
And makes him toss, and rave, and wreak at length
Bloody revenge on his defenceless wife,

Who guiltless dies, because her fool ran mad?

Hor. Alas! this rage is vain; for if your fame Or

peace be with your care, you must be calm, And listen to the means are left to save 'em. 'Tis now the lucky minute of your fate. By me your genius speaks, by me it warns you, Never to see that curst Lothario more;

Unless

you mean to be despis'd, be shunn'd

By all our virtuous maids and noble matrons;
Unless you have devoted this rare beauty

To infamy, diseases, prostitution

140

Cal. Dishonour blast thee, base, unmanner'd slave! That dar'st forget my birth, and sacred sex,

161

And shock me with the rude, unhallow'd sound!
Hor. Here kneel, and in the awful face of Heav'n
Breathe out a solemn vow, never to see,
Nor think, if possible, on him that ruin'd thee;
Or, by my Altamont's dear life, I swear,

This paper; nay, you must not fly-This paper,

[Holding her. This guilty paper shall divulge your shameCal. What mean'st thou by that paper? What contrivance

Hast thou been forging to deceive my father;
To turn his heart against his wretched daughter,
That Altamont and thou may share his wealth?
A wrong like this will make me ev'n forget
The weakness of my sex.—Oh, for a sword,
To urge my vengeance on the villain's hand
That forg'd the scroll!

Hor. Behold! Can this be forg'd?

See where Calista's name- [Shewing the letter near.

Cal. To atoms thus,

[Tearing it.

Thus let me tear the vile, detested falshood,

The wicked, lying evidence of shame.

Hor. Confusion!

Cal. Henceforth, thou officious fool,

Meddle no more nor dare, ev'n on thy life,

To breathe an accent that may touch my virtue.
I am myself the guardian of my honour,
And will not bear so insolent a monitor.

180

Enter ALTAMONT.

Alt. Where is my life, my love, my charming bride, Joy of my heart, and pleasure of my eyes.

"The wish, and care, and business of my youth?
"Oh, let me find her, snatch her to my breast,
"And tell her she delays my bliss too long,
"Till my soft soul ev'n sickens with desire."
Disorder'd!-and in tears!-Horatio too!
My friend is in amaze-What can it mean?
Tell me, Calista, who has done thee wrong,
That my swift sword may find out the offender,
And do thee ample justice.

Cal. Turn to him.

Alt. Horatio!

Cal. To that insolent.

Alt. My friend !

Could he do this? He, who was half myself?
"One faith has ever bound us, and one reason
"Guided our wills. Have I not found him just,
"Honest as truth itself? And" could he break
The sanctity of friendship? Could he wound
The heart of Altamont in his Calista?

200

Cal. I thought what justice I should find from thee! Go fawn upon him, listen to his tale,

Applaud his malice, that would blast my fame,
And treat me like a common prostitute.
Thou art perhaps confederate in his mischief,
And wilt believe the legend, if he tells it.

1

Ant. Oh, impious! what presumptuous wretch shall

dare

To offer at an injury like that?

Priesthood, nor age, nor cowardice itself,
Shall save him from the fury of my vengeance.
Cal. The man who dar'd to do it was Horatio;
Thy darling friend; 'twas Altamont's Horatio.
But mark me well; while thy divided heart,
Doats on a villain that has wrong'd me thus,
No force shall drag me to thy hated bed.
Nor can my cruel father's pow'r do more
Than shut me in a cloister: there, well pleas'd,
Religious hardships will I learn to bear,
To fast and freeze at midnight hours of pray'r:
Nor think it hard, within a lonely cell,

With melancholy, speechless saints to dwell;
But bless the day I to that refuge ran,

220

Free from the marriage chain, and from that tyrant,

man.

[Exit Calista. Alt. She's gone; and, as she went, ten thousand fires

Shot from her angry eyes; as if she meant
Too well to keep the cruel vow she made.
Now, as thou art a man, Horatio, tell me,
What means this wild confusion in thy looks;
As if thou wert at variance with thyself,
Madness and reason combating within thee,

And thou wert doubtful which should get the better?
Hor. I would be dumb for ever; but thy fate 240
Has otherwise decreed it. Thou hast seen

That idol of thy soul, that fair Calista