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Show %t The FAIR PENITENT. Alt. It is too much for Friendfhip to allow thee: Ikcaufe ^tamely bore the Wrong thou didft her, Thou doft avow the barb'rous, brutal Part, And urge the Injury ev'n to m v Free. Hor. 1 fee fhe h^sgot PoffVflion of thy Heart, She has charm'd thee, 1 ke a Siren, to her Bed, With Looks of Love, and with enchanting Sounds: T o o late the Rocks and quick Sands will appear, W h e n thou art wreck t upon the faithlefs Shore, Then vainly wifli th JU hadft not left thy Friend, T o follow her Delullon. Alt. If thy Friendfhip Does churlifhiy deny m y Love a R o o m, It is not worth m y Keeping, I difclaim it. Hor. Canft thou fo foon forget what I've been to thee' I fhar'd the Task of Nature with thy Father, And form'd, with Care, thy unexperiene'd Youth T o Virtue and to Arms. T h y noble Father, oh thou light young M a n! Wou'd he have us'd m e thus? One Fortune fed us, For his was ev^rnvnc, mine his, and both Together flounfh'd, ?nd together fell. H e call'd m e Friend, like thee : Wou'd he have left me Thus ? for a W o m a n i nay, a vile one too ? Alt. T h o u can'ft not, dar'ft not mean it ? fpeak again, Say, w h o is vile? but dare not name Califta Hor. I had not fpoke at firft* unlefs compell'd, And fore'd to clear myfelf j but fince thus urg'd, I muft avow I do not know a viler. Alt. T h o u wert m y Father's Friend, he lov'd thee A kind of venerable Mark of him (*tlh Hangs round thee, and protects thee from my Venge I cannot, dare not lift m y Sword againft thee, (*nce; But henceforth never l^r m e fee thee more. [G#w|* Hor. I love thee ft ill, ungrateful as thou art, And muft, and will prefer?* thee from DJhonour, Ev'nindefpiteofthee. \HaW* Alt. Let go m y Arm. Hor. If Honour be thy Care, if thou wouMitnrf, Without the N a m e of credulous, wittal Husband, - The FAIR PENITENT. Avoid thy Bride, fhun her detefted Bed, The Joys it yields are dajh'd with Poifon Alt. Off! To urge me but a Minute more is fatal. Hor. She is polluted ! ftain'd ! Alt. Madnefs and Rage! But hence! Hor. Difhonour'd by the M a n you hate-s Alt. I prithee loofe m e yet, for thy own fake, [£ Life be worth ihe keeping. Hor. By Lothario. Ah. Perdition take thee, Villain, for the Falfhood. [Strips him* Mow nothing but thy Life can make Atonement. Hor. A Blow! Thou haft us'd m e well [Draws. Alt. This to thy Heart Yet hold! By Heav'n his Father's in his Face, Spite of my Wrongs m y Heart runs o'c-r with Tendernefs, And I cou'd rather die myfelf than hurt him. Hor. Defend thyfelf, for by m y much wrong'd Love, 1 fwear the poor Evafion fhall not fave thee. ' Alt. Yet hold ! thou know'ft i dare! "'Think h o w we've liv'd. [Thy fight; Altamont preffts on v. . , ... , Horatio, who retire*. Nay | then 'tis brutal Violence! And thus, I hus Nature bids m e guard the Life fhe gave. [They fight. Lavinia enters, and runs ktween their Score's. Uv My Bro her! m y Horatio! is it Doffible? Oh turn your cruel Swords upon Lavinta Hor. Safety from tnte, y Arm, thy firft, ,hy great Example, C Which |