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Show 4o The FAIR PENITENT. But dig down deep to find a Grave beneath, A n d hide m e from their Beams. Sciolto within.'] What hoi m y Son! Alt. It is Sciolto calls, come near and find m e ; T h e wretched'ft Thing of all m y Kind on Earth. Cal. Is it the Voice of Thunder, or m y Father-? Madnefs! Confufion! let the Storm ccme on, Let the tumultuous Roar drive all upon me, Dafh m y devoted Bark; ye Surges break it$ 'Tis for m y Ruin that the Tempeft rifes. W h e n 1 a m loft, funk to the Bottom low, Peace fhall return, and all be calm again. Enter Sciolto. Sd. Ev'n n ow Koffano leap'd the Garden Wall,- H a ! Death has been among you. Oh my hears Lift Night thou hadft a Diff'rcnce with thy iriend, T h e Caufc thou gav'ft m e for it was a damn d one; Didft thou not wrong the M a n w h o told thee Truth Anfwer m e quick- Alt. O h prrfsrne.not to fpeak; Ev'n now m y Heart is breaking, and *'™*«<* Will lay m e dead before you 5 fee that Body. And cuefs m y Shame ! m y R u m ! oh Califta & * It is enough! but I am flow to execute, A r d Juftice lingers in m y lazy Hand5 Thu/let me wipejMJgg ^ J * ™ ^ And cut thee from t h e ^ ^ i ^ W* Alt. Stay the^Sciolto, thou rafh Father Jay, Or turn the Point on me, and thro m y Brealt Cut out the bloody Paffagc to C*W*>^ So fhall m y Love be perfra, wj,le for her I die, for w h o m alone I wifli d to 1 v e L o Cal. N o , Altamont! myHrart, hatfeorn y Shall never be indebted to thy ™ y > , Thus torn, def.Cd, ^ w ^ ^ c ^ ^ ? S J e f C C r a , Still 1 have fomething rfJgJ* g n ^ Yes! yes, m y Father, aPPlaud toy j ^ • Strike home, and 1 Wall blefs thec tor The FAIR PENITENT. 4* Be merciful, and free m e from m y Pain, >Tis fharp, 'tis terrible, and I cou d curie The chearful Day, Men, Earth, and Heav'n, and thee, Ev'n thee, thou venerable good old Man, For being Author of a Wretch like me. Alt Liften not to the Wildnefs of her Having. Remember Nature! Shou'd thy Daughter's Murder Defile that Hand, fo juft, fo great in Arms, Her Blood wou'd reft upon thee to Poftenty, Pollute thy Name, and fully all thy Wars. Cal. Have I not wrong'd his gentle Nature much ? And yet b-ho'd Ivm pleading for my Life. Loft as thou art to Virtue, oh Califta! 1 think thou canft not bear to be outdone; Then hafte to die, and be oblig'd no more. Sci. Thy pious Care has g.v'n me time to think, And fav'd me from a Crime; then reft, m y Sword j To Honour have I kept thee ever ficrrd, Nor will Iftain thee with a rafh Revenge: But, mark me well, I will have Juftice done; Hope not to bear away thy Crimes unpunifh'd, I will fee Juftice executed on thee, Even to a Roman S'.ri&nefs j and thou, Nature, Or whatfot'er thou art that plead'ft within me, Be ftill, thy tfn^er Strugglings are in vain. Cal. Then am IdoomM to live, and hear your Triumph? To grone beneath your Scorn, and fierce Upbraldingsj Daily to be reproachM, and have my Mifery At Morn, at Noon, at Night told over to me. Left my Remembrance might grow pitiful, And grant a Moment's Interval of Peace -, h this, is this the Mercy of a Father^ 1 only beg r0 die, and he denies me. th ST'* ^^ my S'ghtl thj Father cannot bea' Fly with thy Infamy to fome dark Cell, There |