For he was never half so kind as you are. Mon. Inform me how thou'st heard Page. With all the tenderness of love, You were the subject of their last discourse. At first I thought it would have fatal prov'd; But as the one grew hot, the other cool'd, And yielded to the frailty of his friend; If softest wishes, and a heart more true hear it. Pol. Who can behold such beauty, and be silent? Desire first taught us words. Man, when created, At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolv'd-At first alone long wander'd up and down I would not be the argument of strife. Page. Yes, to seek you, madam. be made A common stake, a prize for love in jest? Page. The fault was Polydore's. Forlorn, and silent as his vassal beasts: bless'd; A thousand more, why need you talk to me? On those dear eyes; for every glance they send Mon. How can you labour thus for my I must confess indeed, I owe you more me happy. And therefore when my tender parents dy'd, And marriage is a mortifying thing. [Exit. Whose ruin'd fortunes too expir'd with them Mon. Then I am ruin'd! if Castalio's false, Your father's pity and his bounty took me, Where is there faith and honour to be found? A poor and helpless orphan, to his care. Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide Pol. 'Twas Heav'n ordain'd it so, to make The weak, protect and take me to your care. O, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck me! Why was I made with all my sex's fondness, Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies? I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods, Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs; Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still. Re-enter CASTALIO and POLYDORE. He comes. Cas. Madam, my brother begs he may have To tell you something that concerns you nearly. Cas. Madam! Mon. Ilave you purpos'd To abuse me palpably? What means this usage? Calls me away: I must attend my father. Hence with this peevish virtue, 'tis a cheat; Mon. Here on my knees, by heav'n's bles Pol. Intolerable vanity! your sex Mon. Indeed, my lord, I own my sex's, follies; I have 'em all; Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been, And, to avoid its fault, must fly from you. When business might have stay'd, and I been Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high As most fantastic woman's wish could reach, heard. Cas. I could for ever hear thee; but this time And lay all nature's riches at my feet; Matters of such odd circumstances press me, I'd rather run a savage in the woods, That I must go. [Exit. Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled and deform'd, Mon. Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever. Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business, So I might still enjoy my honour safe, And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes. From the destroying wiles of faithless men. [Exil Pol. If to desire you more than misers wealth, Pol. Who'd be that sordid thing call'd man I'll yet possess my love, it shall be so. Or dying men an hour of added life; [Exeunt ACT II. SCENE I-A Saloon. Enter ACASTO, CASTALIO, POLYDORE, and Another sister! sure, it must be so; war, Courtship, I see, has been your practice too, Acas. To-day has been a day of glorious sport: Cas. The actions of your life were always wondrous. Acas. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't It is a little sneaking art, which knaves Methinks I would be busy. Not loiter out my life at home, and know men; Learn how to value merit, though in rags, Ser. My lord, my father! My little cherub, what hast thou to ask me? The come news; young Chamont, whom you've so often And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome; Ser. Monimia, thou hast told me men are false, Will flatter, feign, and make an art of love: Is Chamont so? no, sure, he's more than man; Something that's near divine, and truth dwells in him. Acas. Thus happy, who would envy pom- The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities? I Cham. I have no bus'ness there; He needs not any servants such as you. serve him? Of my brave ancestors, I'm truly happy! Enter a Servant. Sero. My lord, th' expected guests are just [Exeunt Castalio and Polydore. Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your assistance, In something that concerns my peace and honour. So freely, friendly, we convers'd together. e Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship, nor your justice, Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear, My orphan sister, must not be forgotten! Acas. Pr'ythee no more of that, it grates my nature. Cham. When our dear parents dy'd, they dy'd together; One fate surpris'd'em, and one grave receiv'd'em; Kiss'd them away; said she, "Chamont, my son, Kiss'd me again; so bless'd us, and expir'd. Acas. It speaks an honest nature. An infant, to the desert world expos'd, Acas. I've not wrong'd her. Cham. Far be it from my fears. Acas. Then why this argument? Cham. Then you'll remember too he was a man That liv'd up to the standard of his honour, He could not have forgiv'n it to himself. Mon. I challenge envy, Malice, and all the practices of hell, Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, asl Lay musing in my bed, all darkness round me, A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat Dew'd all my face, and trembling seiz'd my limbs : My bed shook under me, the curtains started, And to my tortur'd fancy there appear'd The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art: Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand A wanton lover, who by turns caress'd thee With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure. I snatch'd my sword, and in the very moment Darted it at the phantom; straight it left me; Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and Then rose, and call'd for lights, when, O dire Acas. Go on. you'll bear it. Within my reach, though it should touch my nature, In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoic'd in, I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance. [Exit. Cham. I thank you, from my soul. on. Alas, my brother! What have I done? My heart quakes in me; in your settled face, And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate. You will not kill me? Cham. Prythee, why dost thou talk so? I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing: A tender, honest, and a loving brother. Mon. I never shall. omen! Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seem'd wither'd, And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd The tatter'd remnant of an old strip'd hanging, Which serv'd to keep her carcass from the cold; So there was nothing of a piece about her. Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd With diff'rent colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow, And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness. I ask'd her of my way, which she inform'd me: Then crav'd my charity, and bade me hasten To save a sister! At that word I started! day Mon. The common cheat of beggars; every They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts Of prophecy, and telling fools their fortunes. Cham. Oh! but she told me such a tale, Monimia, As in it bore great circumstance of truth; Castalio and Polydore, my sister. Mon. Ha! [fail you: Cham. What, alter'd? does your courage Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest. Mon. I will, I must, so hardly my misfortune loads me, undone thee, Cas. What means my love? Oh, how have This language from the sovereign of my joys? Mon. Though they both with earnest vows Attempt no further to delude my faith; Cham. But Castalio! Mon. Still will you cross the line of my Yes, I confess that he has won my soul Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted? to me Than all the comforts ever yet bless'd man. Cham. Appear as cold, when next you meet, as great ones, Cas. Who told you so? What hell-bred Profane the sacred business of my love? Th' unhappy object of your father's charity, Cas. 'Tis I have been to blame, and only I ; Mon. And was your love so very tame to Or, rather than lose him, abandon me? Cas. I, knowing him precipitate and rash, Mon. Could you then, did you, can you Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself! Cas. Is this Monimia? Surely no! till now I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind. Who trusts his heart with woman's surely lost: You were made fair on purpose to undo us, When merit begs; then shalt thou see how soon While greedily we snatch th' alluring bait, His heart will cool, and all his pains grow And ne'er distrust the poison that it hides. Mon. When love ill-plac'd, would find a means to break easy. [Exit. Mon. Yes, I will try him, torture him severely; Cas. Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind To leave me here alone. Re-enter POLYDORE, with Page, at the Door. Pass not one circumstance without remark. And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn: men! Cas. It never wants pretences or excuse. Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too: Cas. Who can hear this and bear an equal Since you will drive me from you, I must go: Mon. Castalio, stay! we must not part. I find Tis thus the false hyena makes her moan, hearts, by the hand of heaven grow here, And all that pity you are made your prey. And every sense is full of thy perfection. Enter POLYDORE and Page.. Pol. Were they so kind? Express it to me all In words; 'twill make me think I saw it too. Page. At first I thought they had been mortal foes: Monimia rag'd, Castalio grew disturb'd: Each thought the other wrong'd; yet both so haughty, They scorn'd submission, though love all the while The rebel play'd, and scarce could be contain❜d. Pol. But what succeeded? Page. Oh, 'twas wondrous pretty! For of a sudden all the storm was past: A gentle calm of love succeeded it: Monimia sigh'd and blush'd; Castalio swore; As you, my lord, I well remember, did To my young sister, in the orange grove, When I was first preferr'd to be your page. Pol. Boy, go to your chamber, and prepare your lute. [Exit Page. Happy Castalio! now, by my great soul, My ambitious soul, that languishes to glory, I'll have her yet; by my best hopes, I will; She shall be mine, in spite of all her arts. But for Castalio why was I refus'd? Has he supplanted me by some foul play? Traduc'd my honour? Death! he durst not do't. It must be so we parted, and he met her, Half to compliance brought by me; surpris'd Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite. So poachers pick up tired game, While the fair hunter's cheated of his prey. Boy! Enter a Servant. Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er told! Pol. The matter? Serv. Oh! your father, my good master, As with his guests he sat in mirth rais'd high, And chas'd the goblet round the joyful board, A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his limbs ; eyes distorted grew, his visage pale, s speech forsook him, life itself seem'd fled, And all his friends are waiting now about him. Enter ACASTO and Attendants. Acas. Support me, give me air, I'll yet recover. 'Twas but a slip decaying nature made; For she grows weary near her journey's end. Where are my sons? Come near, my Polydore! Your brother-where's Castalio? Serv. My lord, I've search'd, as you commanded, all the house! 'Tis well I am unpractis'd in the trade of court-hip, And know not how to deal love out with art: Onsets in love seem best like those in war, Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force; So I would open my whole heart at once, And pour out the abundance of my soul. Acas. What says Serina? Canst thou love a soldier? One born to honour, and to honour bred? One that has learn'd to treat e'en foes with kindness, To wrong no good man's fame, nor praise himself? Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's ally'd to joy; And joy must be a 'stranger to my heart, When you're in danger. May Chamont's good fortune Render him lovely to some happier maid! And, as my son, a third of all my fortune Are you yet satisfy'd that I'm your friend? Cham. My lord, I would not lose that satisfaction, For any blessing I could wish for: My friends, 'tis late: I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault about me. you quite. |