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Show 46 The FAIR PENITENT. Stabs ro the Heart, and roufes m y Refentment, (Perhaps it is the Fault of m y rude Nature) 1 o w n 1 cannot eafily forgive it. Alt. T h o u haft forgot me. Hor. N o. Alt. W h y are thy Eyes Impatient of m e then, fcornful, and fierce? Hor. Becaufe they are honeft, and difdain a Villain, Alt. 1 have vvrong'd thee much, Horatio. Hor. True, thou haft: W h e n 1 forget it, may I be a Wretch, Vile as thylelr, a falfe perfld ous Fellow, A n infamoui, believing, Bnffh Husband. Alt. I've wrong'd thee much, and deav'n has well a-vengM it, I have noi, fince w e parted, been at Peace, N o r known one joy hncf re ; our broken Friendfhip Purfu'd m e to the laft Retreat of Love, Stood glaring f.Ve aGhoft, and made m e cold with Hoi- Misfortunes on Misfortunes prefs upon me, , (roi Swell o'er m y Head, like Waves, and dafh me down. Sorrow, R e m rfe, and Shame, fuve torn my Soul, T h e y nans like Winter on m y youthful Hopes, And blail the Srring and promife of m y Year. Lav. So FlowVs are g a t W d to adorn a Gran, T o lofe their Frefhnefs amongft Bones and Rotrenneli, And have! their Odours ftifted in the Duft: Can'ft thou hear rhis, thou cruel, hatd Horatio? Can'ft thou berold thy Altamont undone? That gentle, that dear You;b! can'ft thou behold h* His poor Heart broken, Death m bia pale ViUge, And eroaning out his Woes, yet (Und unmov d. f/ofl he Brave and Wife 1 pity in Misfortune, But whfn fngraciru le m d follj fufrtrs, TVs Weaknefs to be touch d. Alt. I wu'not ask thee T o pi'V or forgive m e ; but conteis, This Scorn, this Infolence of Hate .s juft; -Tis Corfbncy of Mind, and manly mthee. But oh! h«l I been wrong d by thee, &w«fi ,& TheVAlK PENITENT. 47 There is a yielding Softnefs in my Heart Cou'd ne'er have flood it out, b u U had ran, With ftreaming Eyes, and open Arms, upon thee, And preft thee clofe, clofe! Hor. I muft hear no more, The Weaknefs is contagious, I fhall catch it, And be a tame fond Wretch. Lav. Where wou'dft thou go? Wou'dft thou part thus? You fha'not, 'tis impnfSble; For I will bar thy PafTage, kneeling thus: Perhaps thy cruel Hand may fpurn m e off, But I will throw my Body in the way, And thou /halt trample o'er m y faithful Bofom, Tread on me, wound me, kill m e ere thou pafs. Alt. Urge not in vain thy pious Suit, Lavinia. 1 have enough to rid m e of m y Pain. j Califta, thou hadit icach'd my Heart before; To make all fure, my Friend repeats the Blow: But in the Grave our Cares fhall be forgotten, There Love and Friend/hip ceafe. [Falls. [Livinia runs to him, and end.avours ts rai/e him. Lav. Speak to me, Altamwt. He faints! he dies* N o w turn and fee thy Triumph; M y Brother ! But our Cares mall end together, ? Here will I lay me down by thy dear Side, Bemoan thy too hard Pate, then fhare it with thee, And never ic e my cruel Lord again. [Horatio ruuf to Altamont, and raifes him in his Arms [He revives. •• Thar long erf t b S S S S S S t S * h*? ^ ' d ™? **ul. < B«t thy known Ve,' V , ? ' ^ rf aCh'd ,he S,ars 5 ^^"^^•Wft'afc.' "With |