Page images
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

WER TER;

A TRAGEDY.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-CHARLOTTE's Apartment.

Enter CHARLOTTE and LAURA.

CHARLOTTE (reading a letter).

ALBERT
ALBERT returns to-night-he little thinks.
What ravages a few fhort hours have made
In this distracted breaft: Laura, he comes
To take poffeffion of my promis'd hand,
And claim that love his virtue well deferves!

How will his hopes be dafh'd, then, when he finds
That all the labours of three tedious years;

One night, one fatal night, has quite eras'd.

LAURA.

LAURA.

Banish these thoughts-they ferve but to enhance
The fad remembrance of an hopeless love.

CHARLOTTE.

Talk not of love, it has deftroy'd my peace:
Oh! had not Werter's lovely form appear'd,
I still had liv'd unconscious of these pangs!
And Albert's friendship Werter's love fupply'd;
But he has fhewn the God in all his charms,
With each allurement to feduce the foul,
And then has left me to deplore and die!

LAURA.

Think not of Werter-'Twas thy folemn vow
To wed with Albert.

CHARLOTTE.

And I'll maintain that vow;

Think'ft thou that honour will defcend to kneel
At love's fantaftick throne? No, Laura! no;
Albert defervedly has gain'd my heart;
Some fighs may heave, fome tears in pity fall,
When memory mufes on another's fate;
But truth and conftancy fhall never cease

To pay

that debt the generous Albert claims.

Enter

Enter WERTER.

WERTER.

My better angel!-Oh! at fight of thee,
The gloomy winter in my bofom thaws,
And funshine fmiles again.

CHARLOTTE.

O, Werter!

WERTER.

What means my Charlotte?

CHARLOTTE.

Alas! my Werter,

There, in that letter, read thy hopeless fate.

WERTER, (having read the letter.)

Albert return to night!-Then am I curft indeed.

CHARLOTTE.

Wou'd I could footh the anguifh of thy foul;
But well thou know'ft honour denies thee that
Which beft might give relief-yet, if the balm
Of healing pity will affuage thy pain,

Still thou art fomewhat bleft! for even now-
My heart is bleeding for the wounds of thine.

[blocks in formation]

WERTER.

Generous Charlotte !-but oh! what needed this?
If fympathy could heal my rankl'd wounds,
I knew that thou would't pour the balfam on;
'Twas madness only that has made me thus,
And only that can fave me!

CHARLOTTE.

No, Werter;

'Tis Charlotte only that has made thee thusShe is the origin of all thy woes!

WERTER.

Perish the thought!-I am myfelf the caufe,
Thou art the lovely foother of my cares;
My guardian angel! fent by pitying Heav'n
To compenfate my every other ill;—
And yet there is another that should claim
My warmest gratitude.

CHARLOTTE.

O fhun me! fly me!

I am a fyren fatal to behold,

And ruin thofe I ever fhould protect.

WERTER.

Tell me delufion lurks beneath thy files;
Tell me deftruction dwells within thine eye;
Tell me contagion hangs upon thy tongue;

And

« PreviousContinue »