“ In vain I call; for she, like fleeting air, 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, friend. [Exeunt. 160 Hor. What if, while all are here intent on revelling, 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 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. [Exit. SCENE II. 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 180 My instrument of vengeance on this Altamont; Enter HORATIO. [They confer aside. 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, Yet, with these coward's virtues, he undid 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. Hor. 'Tis well you are. friend 200 The man who wrongs my 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. 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. 2 221 Hor. Where was this open boldness, this free spirit, To sell her lady's secrets, stain her honour, Loth. Ha! fled from thee? 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, And do a midnight murder on the sleepers. [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, As is the noon-day sun, air, earth, or water, Or any common benefit of nature. 240 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 To the dull doating husband: now I have found him, And thou art he. Hor. I hold thee base enough To break through law, and spurn at sacred order, Yet mark me well, young lord; I think Calista Ransack for mistresses th' unwholesome stews, And never know the worth of virtuous love. Loth. Think'st thou I forg'd the letter? Think so still, 'Till the broad shame come staring in thy face, And boys shall hoot the cuckold as he passes. Hor. Away! no woman could descend so low: A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are; Fit only for yourselves: you herd together; And when the circling glass warms your vain hearts, You talk of beauties that you never saw, And fancy raptures that you never knew. "Legends of saints who never yet had being, "Or being, ne'er were saints, are not so false "As the fond tales which you recount of love." Loth. But that I do not hold it worth my leisure; |