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Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship, nor Cham. Then you'll remember too be was
your justice, Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear, That liv'd up to the standard of his honour, My orphan sister, must not be forgotten! And priz'd that jewel more than mines of wealth: Acas. Pr’ythee no more of that, it grates He'd not bave done a shameful thing but once: my nature,
Though kept in darkness from the world, and Cham. When our dear parents dy'd, they
hidden, dy'd together;
He could not have forgivin it to bimself.
in her fainting arms, wept, and Now if, by any chance, Monimia,
You have soil'd ibis gem, and taken from its value, Then press'd me close, and, as she observ'd How will you account with me? my tears,
Mon. I challenge envy, Kiss'd them away ; said she, “Chamont, my son, Malice, and all the practices of hell, By this, and all the love I ever show'd ihee, To censure all the actions of my past Be careful of Monimia: watch her youth ; Unhappy life, and taint me if they can! Let not her wants betray her to dishonour; · Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, as I Perhaps kind heav'n may raise some friend." Lay musing in my bed, all darkness round me, Then sigh’d,
A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat Kiss'd me again; so bless'd us, and expir'd. Dew'd all my face, and trembling seiz'd my Pardon my grief.
limbs : Acas. It speaks an honest nature.
My bed shook under me, the curtains started, Cham. The friend heav'n rais'd was you; And to my tortur'd fancy there appear'd you took her up,
The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art; An infant, to the desert world expos'd, Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand And prov'd another parent,
A wanton lover, who by turns caress'd thee Acas. I've not wrong'd her.
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure. Cham. Far be it from my fears.
I snatch'd my sword, and in the very moment Acas. Then why this argument?
Darled it at the phantom; straight it left me; Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and Then rose, and calld for lights, when, O dirc you'll bear it.
omen! Acas. Go on.
I found my weapon had the arras pierc'd, Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes bardly; Just where that famous tale was interwoven, Good offices claim gratitude ; and pride, How the unhappy Theban slew his father. Where pow'r is wanting, will usurp a little, Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected! And make us (rather than be thought behind Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden, hand)
I must be tortur'd waking! Pay over price.
Cham. Have a care; Acas. I cannot guess your drift;
Labour not to be justify'd too fast : Distrust you me?
Hear all, and then let justice hold the scale,
with scalding, rheum were gal'd Within my reach, though it should touch my
and red: nature,
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seem'd In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance
wither's, Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoic'd in, And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance. [Exit
. The tatter'd remnant of an old strip'd hanging, Cham, I thank you, from my soul. Which serv'd to keep her carcass from the cold; Mon, Alas, my brother! What have I done? So there was nothing of a piece about her, My heart quakes in me; in your settled face, Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate. With diff'rent colour'd rags, black, red, white, You will not kill me ?
yellow, Cham. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so ? And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.
Mon. Look kindly on me then; I cannot bear I ask'd her of my way, which she informd me: Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me; Then crav'd my charity, and bade me hasten My heart's so tender, should you charge me To save a sister! At that word I started! rough,
Mon. The common cheat of beggars; every day I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing: They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts But use me gently, like a loving brother, Of prophecy, and telling fools their fortunes. And search through all the secrets of my soul. Cham, Ob! but she told me such a tale, Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a
As in it bore great circumstance of truth ; A tender, honest, and a loving brother. Castalio and Polydore, my sister. You've not forgot our father?
[fail you? Mon. I never shall.
Chain. What, alter'd ? does your courage
Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest. Cas. What means my love ? Oh, how have Answer me, if thou hast not lost to them
I desery'd Thy honour at a sordid game ?
This language from the sovereign of my joys? Hon. I will,
Stop, stop these tears, Monimia, for they fall I must, so hardly my misfortune loads me, Like baneful dew from a distemper'd sky: That both have offer'd'me their love's most true. I feel 'em chill me to my very heart. Cham. And 'tis as true too they have both Mon. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most undone thee.
forsworn! Mon. Though they both with earnest rows Attempt no further to delude my faith; Have press'd my heart, if e'er in thought I yielded My heart is fır’d, and you shall shak't no more. To any but Castalio
Cas. Who told you so? What hell-bred Cham. But Castalio!
villain durst Mon. Still will you cross the line of. my Profane the sacred business of my love? discourse.
Mon. Your brother, knowing on what terms Yes, I confess that he has won my soul
I'm here, By gen'rous love and bonourable 'vows, Th' unhappy object of your father's charity, Which he this day appointed to complete, Licentiously discours'd to me of love, And make himself by holy marriage mine. And durst'affront me with his brutal passion. Cham. Art thou then spotless? hast thou Cas. 'Tis I have been to blame, and only I; still preserva
False to my brother, and unjust to thee. Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted ? For, ob! he loves thee too, and this day own'dit, Mon. When I'm unchaste, may heaven re- Tax'd me with mine, and claim'd a right ject my prayers;
above me. Or more, to make me wreiched, may you know it! Mon. And was your love so very, tame to Cham. Oh then, Monimia, art thou dearer
shrink? to me
Or, rather than lose him, abandon me ? Than all the comforts ever yet bless'd man. Cas. I, knowing him precipitate and rash, But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin. Seem'd to comply with his unruly will; Trust not a man; we are by nature false, Lest he in rage might have our loves betray'd, Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstaot; And I for ever bad Monimia lost. When a man talks of love, with caution trust him; Mon. Could you then, did you, can you Bat if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee.
own it too? I charge thee, let no more Castalio sooth thee; Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself! Avoid it, as thou wouldst preserve the peace And I can never think you meant me fair. Osa poor brother, to whose soul thou'rt precious. Cas. Is this Monimia ? Surely no! till now Mon. I will.
I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind. Cham. Appear as cold, when next you meet, Who trusts his heart with woman's surely lost : as great ones,
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. easy.
[Exit. Mon. When love ill-plac'd, would find a Mon. Yes, I will try him, torture him severely;
means to breakFor, O Castalio, thou too much hast wrong'd me, Cas. It never wants pretences or excuse. In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage.
Mon. Man therefore was a lordlike creature He comes! and now, for once, O love, stand
Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too: Whilst a bard part's perform'd; for I must 'tempt, A lolly aspect given him for command; IFound his soft nature, though my heart Easily soften'd when he would betray. aches fort.
Like conqu’ring tyrants, you our breasts invade;
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave Re-enter CASTALIO.
The ravag‘d province ruinate and waste. Cas. Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind If so, Castalio, you have serv'd my heart, To leave me here alone.
I find that desolation's settled there,
And I shall ne'er recover peace again. Re-enter POLYDORE, with Page, at the Door.
Cas. Who can hear this and bear an equal Pol. Here place yourself, and watch my
mind? brother thoroughly; Since you will drive me from you, I must go: Pass not one circumstance without remark. But, Ó Monimia! when thou hast banish'd me,
[-4part to Page, and exit. No creeping slave, though tractable and duli Cas. When thou art from me, every place As artful woman for her ends would choose, is desert,
Shall ever dote as I have done. Ind I, methinks, am savage and forlorn: Mon. Castalio, stay! we must not part. I find Thy presence only 'lis can make me blest, My rage ebbs out, and love flows in apace. Heal my unquiet 'mind, and tune my soul. These little quarrels love must needs forgive. Mon. O the bewitching tongues of faithless Oh! charm me with the music of thy tongue, men!
I'm ne'er so blest as when I hear thy vows, Tis thus the false hyena makes her moan, And listen to the language of thy heart. To draw the pitying traveller to ber den: Cas. Where am I? Surely Paradise is round Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all ;
me! With sighs and plaints y' entice poor women's Sweets planted by the hand of heaven grow hearts,
here, And all that pity you are made your préy. And every sense is full of thy perfection.
Sure, framing thee, heaven took unusual care ;
Enter CASTALIO. As its own beauty it design’d thee fair, Cas.' Angels preserve my dearest father's life! And form'd thee by the best lov'd angel there. Oh! may he live till time itself decay,
[Exeunt. Till good men wish bim dead, or I offend him! ACT III.
Acas. Thank you, Castalio: give me both
So now, methinks,
appear as great as Hercules himself, Pol. Were they so kind ? Express it to me all Supported by the pillars he had rais'd. In words; 'twill make me think I saw it too.
Ser. My father!.
Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest, They scorn'd submission, though love all the But wake and weep, till heaven restore my father. while
Acas. Risc to my arms, and thy kind pray’rs The rebel play'd, and scarce could be contain’d.
are answer'd. Pol. But what succeeded ?
For thou’rt a wondrous extract of all goodness; Page. Oh, 'twas wondrous pretty! Born for my joy, and no pain's felt when near For of a sudden all the storm was past :
thee. A gentle calm of love succeeded it:
Chamont ! Monimia sigh'd and blush'd ; Castalio swore;
Enter CHAMONT. As you, my lord, I will remember, did To my young sister, in the orange grove, Cham. My lord, may't prove not an unlucky When I was first preferr'd to be your page.
omen! Pol. Boy, go to your chamber, and prepare Many I see are waiting round about you,
[Exit Page. And 'I am come to ask a blessing too. Happy Castalio! now, by my great soul, Acas. May'st thou be happy! My ambitious soul, that languishes to glory, Cham. Where? I'll have her yet; by my best hopes, I will; Acas. In all thy wishes. She shall be mine, in spite of all her arts. Cham. Confirm me so, and make this fair one But for Castalio why was I refus'd ?
mine: Has he supplanted me by some foul play? I am unpractis'd in the trade of courtship, Traduc'd my honour? Death! he durst not do't. And know not how to deal love out with art. It must be so: we parted, and he met her,
Onsets in love seem best like those in war, Half to compliance brought by me; surpris's Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force; Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite. So I would open my whole heart at once, So poachers pick up tired game,
And pour out the abundance of my soul. VVbile the fair hunter's cheated of his prey. Acas. What says Serina ? Cansi thou love Boy!
a soldier? Enter a Servant.
One born to honour, and to honour bred?
One that has learn'd to treat e'en foes with Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er
To wrong no good man's fame, nor praise Pol. The matter?
himself? Serv. Oh! your father, my good master, Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's ally'd As with his guests he sat in mirth rais'd high,
to joy; And chas'd the goblet round the joyful board, And joy must be a stranger to my heart, A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his limbs ; When you're in danger. May Cbamont's good His eyes distorted grew, his visage pale,
fortune Ilis speech forsook him, life itself seem'd fled, Render him lovely to some happier maid! And all his friends are waiting now about him. Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest,
Praise the kind gods, and wonder at bis virtues. Enter Acasto and Attendants.
Acas. Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and Acas. Support me, give me air, I'll yet recover.
possess ber, 'Twas but a slip decaying nature made; And, as my son, a third of all my fortune For she grows weary near her journey's end. Shall be thy lot. Where are my sons ? Come near, my Polydore! Chamont, sou told me of some doubts that Your brother where's Castalio ?
press'd you: Serv. My lord,
Are you yet satisfy'd that I'm your friend? I've search'd, as you commanded, all the house! Cham.' My lord, I would not lose that He and Monimia are not to be found.
satisfaction, Acus. Not to be found ? then where are all For any blessing I could wish for: my friends?
As to my fears, already I have lost them: 'Tis well
They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you. I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault
Acas. I thank you. My unmannerly infirmity has made! My friends, 'tis lale : Death could not come in a more welcome hour; Now my disorder seems all past and over, For I'm prepar'd to meet him; and, methinks, And I, methinks, begin to feel new health. Would live and die with all my
friends Cas. Would you but rest, it might restore about me.
Acas. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must hu-When mirth and kind rejoicing fill'd each room, mour weakness.
As I was walking in the grove I met them. Good night, my friends! Heav'n guard you all! Cham. What, met them in the grove together? Good night!
Chap. I, by their own appointment, met To-morrow carly we'll salute the day,
them there, Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time. Receiv'd their marriage vows, and join'd their [Exeunt all but Chamont and Chaplain.
hands. Cham. If you're at leisure, sir, we'll waste Cham. How! married ?
Chap. Yes, sir. Tis yet too soon to sleep, and 'twill be charity Cham. Then my soul's at peace: To lend your conversation to a stranger. But why would you so long delay to give it? Chap. Sir, you're a soldier?
Chap. Not knowing what reception it may find Cham. Yes.
With old Acasto; may be, I was too cautious Chap. I love a soldier;
To trust the secret from me. And had been one myself, but that my parents
Cham. What's the cause Would make me what you see me. I cannot guess, though 'tis my sister's honour, Cham. Have you had long dependance on I do not like this marriage, this family?
Fluddled i'the dark, and done at too much venture; Chap. I have not thought it so, because my The business looks with an unlucky face. time's
Keep still the secret; for it ne'er shall 'scape me, Spent pleasantly. My lord's not haughty nor Not ev'n to them, the new match'd pair. Farewell! imperious,
Believe my truth, and know me for thy friend. Nor I gravely whimsical: he bas good nature.
[E.reunt, His sons too are civil to me, because I do not pretend to be wiser than they are;
Re-enter Castalio, with Monimia. I meddle with no man's business but my own; Cas. Young Chamont and the chaplain! So meet with respect, and am not the jest of
sure 'tis they! The family.
No matter what's contrivd, or who consulted, Cham. I'm glad you are so happy. Since
my Monimia's mine; though this sad look A pleasant fellow.this, and may be useful. [ Aside. Seems no good boding, omen to our bliss; Keri
you my father, the old Chamont? Else, pr’ythee, tell me why that look cast down, Chap. I did; and was most sorry when we Why that sad sigh, as if thy heart was breaking? lost him.
Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we've done: Cham. Why, didst thou love him? The heavenly powers were sure displeas'd to-day; Chap. Ev'ry body lov'd him; besides, he For, at the ceremony as we stood,
was my patron's friend. And as your hand was kindly join'd with mine, Cham. I could embrace thee for that very as the good priest pronounc'd the sacred words, notion:
Passion grew big, and I could not forbear, If thou didst love my father, I could think Tears drown'd my eyes, and trembling seiz'd Thou wouldst not be an enemy to me. Chap. I can be no man's foe.
What should that mean?
Cas. Oh, thou art tender all!
Re-enter POLYDORE, unobserved. Chap. Either he loves her, or he much has But wherefore do I daliy with my bliss? wrongd her.
The night's far spent, and day draws on apace; Cham. How wrong'd her? have a care; for To bed, my love, and wake till I come thither. this may lay
Mon Twill be impossible: A scene of mischief to undo us all.
You know your father's chamber's next to mine, but tell me, wrong'd her, saidst thou ? And the least noise will certainly alarm him. Chap. Ay, sir, wrong'd her.
Cas. No more, my blessing. Cham. This is a secret worth a monarch's What shall be the sign ? forlunc:
When shall I come? for to my joys I'll steal, What shall I give thee for't? thou dear physician As if I ne'er had paid my freedom for them. Of sickly souls, unfold this riddle to me, Mon. Just three soft strokes upon the chamAnd confort mine
ber door; Chap. I would hide nothing from you willingly. And at that signal you shall gain admittance: Cham. By the reverenc'd soul
But speak not the least word; for, if you should, Of that great honest man that gave me being, 'Tis surely heard, and all will be betray'd. Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my Cas. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys honour,
Shall be as silent as the ecstatic bliss And, if I e'er rereal it to thy wrong.
Of souls, that by intelligence converse. May this good sword ne'er do me right in battle! Away, my love! first take this kiss. Now haste : May I ne'er know that blessed peace of mind, I long for that to come, yet grudge each miThat dwells in good and pious men like thee !
nute past. (Exit Monimia. Chap. I see your temper's mov’d, and I will My brother wand'ring too so late this way! trust you.
Pol. Castalio! Cham. Wilt thou ?
Cas. My Polydore, how dost thou? Chap. I will; but if it ever 'scape you- How does our father? is he well recover'd ? Cham. It never shall.
[was busy, Pol. I left bim happily repos’d to rest: Chap. Then this good day, when all the house He's still as gay as if his life was young.
But how does fair Monimia?
Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe; Cas. Doubtless well:
Be it to run, or watch, or to convey A cruel beauty, with her conquest pleas'd, A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom; Is always joyful, and her mind in health. At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn. Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was?
Pol. 'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be May we not hope she's made of mortal mould ?
employ'd. Cas. She's not woman else:
Go to my brother, he's in his chamber now, Though I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping; Undressing, and preparing for his rest; We're in a barren desert stray'd too long: Find out some means to keep him up awhile :
Pol. Yet may relief be unexpected found, Tell bim a pretty story, that may please And love's sweet manna cover all the field. His ear; invent a tale, no matter what: Met ye to-day?
If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone Cas. No; she has still avoided me:
To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure, I wish I'd never meddled with the matter;
Whether he'll hunt to-morrow. And would enjoin thee, Polydore
But do not leave him till he's in his bed; Pol. To what?
Or if he chance to walk again this way, Cas. To leave this peevish beauty to herself. Follow, and do not quit him, but seem fond Pol. What, quit my love? as soon I'd quit To do him little offices of service. my post
Perhaps at last it may offend him; then In fight, and like a coward run away. Retire, and wait till I come in... Away: No, by my stars, I'll chase her till she yields Succeed in this, and be employ'd again. To me, or meets her rescue in another. Page. Doubt not,, my lord: he has been Cas. But I have wondrous reasons on my side,
always' kind That would persuade thee, were they known. To me; would often set me on his knee, Pol. Then speak 'em:
Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty bov, What are they? Came ye to her window here And ask me what the maids talk'd of at nights, To learn 'em now? Castalio, have a care; Pol. Run quickly then, and prosp'rous be Use honest dealing with a friend and brother.
thy wishes. [Erit Page Believe me, I'm not with my love so blinded, Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief. But can discern your purpose to abuse me: I heard the sign she order'd him to give. Quit your pretences to her.
"Just three soft strokes against the chamber door; You say you've reasons: why are they conceald? But speak not the least word, for if you should, Cas. To-morrow I may you.
It's surely heard, and we are both betray'd." Pol. Why not now?
Blest heav'ns, assist me but in this dear hour, Cas. It is a matter of such consequence, And my kind stars be but propitious now, As I must well consult ere I reveal. Dispose of me hereafter as you please. But pr’ythee cease to think I would abuse thee, Monimia! Monimia! [Gives the Sign. Till more be known.
Flo: [At the Window] Who's there? Pol. When you, Castalio, cease
Pol. "Tis I. To meet Monimia unknown to me,
Flo. My lord Castalio ?
Pol. The same.
Cas. It seems you've watch'd' me then? She wonders much at your unkind delay;
You've staid so long, that at each little noise Cas. Pr’ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent. The wind but makes, she asks if you are coming. Pol. That is, henceforward making leagues Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be
open'd. (Florella withdraws. Cas, Nay, if ye're angry, Folydore, good night. Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell
. Thyself strange stories of a promis'd bliss ! Pol. Good night, Castalio, if ye're in such haste.
[Exit into the House. He little thinks I've overheard th' appointment: But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile,
Re-enter Castalio and Page. Then come and take possession of my love. Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely This is the utmost point of all my hopes;
morning : Or now she must, or never can be mine. Pray let us bunt. Oh, for a means now how to counterplot, Cas. Go, you're an idle prattler: And disappoint this happy elder brother! I'll stay at bome to-morrow; if your lord In every thing we do or undertake, Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go, He soars above me, mount what height I can, And keeps the start he got of me in birth. I must to bed. Cordelio
Page. I'll wait upon your lordship,
think fit, and sing you to repose.
Cas. No, my kind boy. Page. My lord!
Good night: commend me to my brother. Pol. Come hither, boy!
Page. Oh! Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face, You never heard the last new song I leara'd And may'st in time expect preferment. Canst thou It is the finest, prettiest song indeed, Pretend to secresy, cajole and flatter Of my lord and my lady, you know who Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures?
that were caught Page. My lord, I could do any thing for you, Together, you know where. My lord, indeed And ever be a very faithful boy.