Cas. Have I a thought my Polydore should not know?

What can this mean?

Pol. Nay, I'll conjure you too,

By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship,
To show your heart as naked in this point,
As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n.
And should I chance to touch it near, bear it
With all the suff'rance of a tender friend.
Cas. As calmly as the wounded patient bears
The artist's hand, that ministers his cure.
Pol. That's kindly said.-You know our fa-
ther's ward,

The fair Monimia:- is your heart at peace?
Is it so guarded, that you could not love her?
Cas. Suppose I should?

Pol. Suppose you should not, brother?
Cas. You'd say, I must not.

Pol. That would sound too roughly

Twixt friends and brothers, as we two are. Cas. Is love a fault?

Pol. In one of us it may beWhat, if I love her?

Cas. Then I must inform you

I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the claim; But will preserve the birthright of my passion. Pol. You will?

Cas. Love her still;

Win, and enjoy her.

Pol. Both of us cannot.

Cas. No matter

Cas. My friend,

If he survives me; if not, my king,
Who may bestow't again on some brave man,
Whose honesty and services deserve one.
Pol. 'Tis kindly offer'd.

Cas. By yon heaven, I love
My Polydore beyond all worldly joys;
And would not shock his quiet, to be blest
With greater happiness than man e'er tasted.
Pol. And, by that heaven, eternally I swear,
To keep the kind Castalio in my heart.
Whose shall Monimia be?

Cas. No matter whose.

Pol. Were you not with her privately last night?

Cas. I was; and should have met her here again.

The opportunity shall now be thine;
But have a care, by friendship I conjure thee,
That no false play be offer'd to thy brother.
Urge all thy powers to make thy passion prosper;
But wrong not mine.

Pol. By heaven, I will not.

Cas. It prove thy fortune, Polydore, to

conquer

(For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion), Trust me, and let me know thy love's success, That I may ever after stifle mine.

Pol. Though she be dearer to my soul than rest To weary pilgrims, or to misers gold, To great men pow'r, or wealthy cities pride; Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her. [Exeunt Castalio and Polydore.

Enter MONIMIA.

Mon. Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore this way?

Page. Madam, just now.

Mon. Sure some ill fate's upon me: Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart, And apprehension shocks my tim'rous soul. Why was not I laid in my peaceful grave With my poor parents, and at rest as they are? Instead of that, I'm wand'ring into cares.Castalio! O Castalio! thou hast caught My foolish heart; and, like a tender child, That trusts his plaything to another hand, I fear its harm, and fain would have it back. Come near, Cordelio; I must chide you, sir. Page. Why, madam, have I done you any wrong?

Mon. I never see you now; you have been kinder;

Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money for you.

Page. Madam, I'd serve you with my soul. Mon. Tell me, Cordelio (for thou oft hast heard Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets), Sometimes, at least, have they not talk'd of me? Page. O madam! very wickedly they have talk'd!

But I am afraid to name it; for, they say, Boys must be whipp'd, that tell their masters'

secrets.

Mon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be known;

For I'll preserve the secret as 'twere mine.
Polydore cannot be so kind as I.

I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sports,
With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page.

Page. And truly, madam, I had rather be so. Methinks you love me better than my lord;

ACT II.

SCENE I-4 Saloon.

Enter ACASTO, CASTALIO, POLYDORE, and Attendants.

Acas. To-day has been a day of glorious sport: When you, Castalio, and your brother left me, Forth from the thickets rush'd another boar, So large, he seem'd the tyrant of the woods, With all his dreadful bristles rais'd up high, They seem'd a grove of spears upon his back; Foaming he came at me, where I was posted Best to observe which way he'd lead the chase, Whetting his huge large tusks, and gaping wide, As if he already had me for his prey! Till brandishing my well-pois'd javelin high, With this bold executing arm I struck The ugly brindled monster to the heart. Cas. The actions of your life were. always wondrous.

Acas. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't live by't;

It is a little sneaking art, which knaves
Use to cajole and soften fools withal,
If thou hast flattery in thy nature, out with't,
Or send it to a court, for there 'twill thrive.
Cas. Your lordship's wrongs have been
So great, that you with justice may complain;
But suffer us, whose younger minds ne'er felt
Fortune's deceits, to court her, as she's fair:
Were she a common mistress, kind to all,
Her worth would cease,
and half the world
grow idle.

Methinks I would be busy.
Pol. So would I,

Not loiter out my life at home, and know
No further than one prospect gives me leave.
Acas. Busy your minds then, study arts and

Another sister! sure, it must be so;
Though I remember well I had but one:
But I feel something in my heart that prompts,
And tells me, she has claim and interest there.
Acas. Young soldier, you've not only studied

war,

Courtship, I see, has been your practice too, And may not prove unwelcome to my daughter. Cham. Is she your daughter? then my heart told true,

And I'm at least her brother by adoption; For you have made yourself to me a father, And by that patent I have leave to love her.

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 pompous pow'r,

The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities?
Let there be joy through all the house this day!
In ev'ry room let plenty flow at large!
It is the birth-day of my royal master!
You have not visited the court, Chamont,
Since your return?

Cham. I have no bus'ness there;

I have not slavish temperance enough
T'attend a favourite's heels, and watch his smiles,
Bear an ill office done me to my face,
And thank the lord that wrong'd me for his favour.
Acas. This you could do. [To his Sons.
Cas. I'd serve my prince.
Acas. Who'd serve him?
Cas. I would, my lord.
Pol. And I; both would.
Acas. Away!

He needs not any servants such as you.
Serve him! he merits more than man can do!
He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth;
So merciful, sure he ne'er slept in wrath!
So just, that, were he but a private man,
He could not do a wrong! How would you
serve him?

Cas. I'd serve him with my fortune here at home,

And serve him with my person in his wars: Watch for him, fight for him, bleed for him. Pol. Die for him,

As ev'ry true-born, loyal subject ought.

Acas. Let me embrace ye both! now, by

the souls

Of my brave ancestors, I'm truly happy!
For this, be ever blest my marriage day!
Blest be your mother's memory, that bore you;
And doubly blest be that auspicious hour
That gave ye birth!

Enter a Servant.

Serv. My lord, th' expected guests are just arriv'd. Acas. Go you and give 'em welcome and reception.

[Exeunt Castalio and Polydore. Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your assistance,

In something that concerns my peace and honour. Acas. Spoke like the son of that brave man I lov'd!

So freely, friendly, we convers'd together. Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it; Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword.

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; My father, with his dying breath, bequeath'd Her to my love; my mother, as she lay Languishing by him, call'd me to her side, Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embrac'd me;

Then press'd me close, and, as she observ'd my tears,

Kiss'd them away; said she, "Chamont, my son,
By this, and all the love I ever show'd thee,
Be careful of Monimia: watch her youth;
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour;
Perhaps kind heav'n may raise some friend."
Then sigh'd,

Kiss'd me again; so bless'd us, and expir'd.
Pardon my grief.

Acas. It speaks an honest nature.
Cham. The friend heav'n rais'd was you;
you took her up,

An infant, to the desert world expos'd,
And prov'd another parent.

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,
And priz'd that jewel more than mines of wealth:
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once:
Though kept in darkness from the world, and
hidden,

He could not have forgiv'n it to himself.
This was the only portion that he left us;
And I more glory in't than if possess'd
Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.
'Twas a large trust, and must be manag'd nicely;
Now if, by any chance, Monimia,
You have soil'd this gem, and taken from its value,
How will you account with me?

Mon. I challenge envy,

Malice, and all the practices of hell,
To censure all the actions of my past
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!

Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, as l 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;

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.
Mon, 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?
Mon, Look kindly on me then; I cannot bear
Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me;
My heart's so tender, should you charge me
rough,

I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing;
But use me gently, like a loving brother,
And search through all the secrets of my soul.
Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a
brother,

A tender, honest, and a loving brother.
You've not forgot our father?

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!

Mon. The common cheat of beggars; every day 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

I deserv'd

Mon. I will,

This language from the sovereign of my joys?
Stop, stop these tears, Monimia, for they fall
Like baneful dew from a distemper'd sky:
I feel 'em chill me to my very heart.
Mon. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most
forsworn!

Cham. But Castalio!

Mon. Still will you cross the line of my discourse.

Yes, I confess that he has won my soul
By gen'rous love and honourable vows,
Which he this day appointed to complete,
And make himself by holy marriage mine.
Cham. Art thou then spotless? hast thou
still preserv'd

Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted? Mon. When I'm unchaste, may heaven reject my prayers;

Or more, to make me wretched, may you know it! Cham. Oh then, Monimia, art thou dearer

to me

Than all the comforts ever yet bless'd man. But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin. Trust not a man; we are by nature false, Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant; When a man talks oflove, with caution trust him; But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee. I charge thee, let no more Castalio sooth thee; Avoid it, as thou wouldst preserve the peace Of a poor brother, to whose soul thou'rt precious. Mon. I will.

Cham. Appear as cold, when next you meet, as great ones, When merit begs; then shalt thou see how soon His heart will cool, and all his pains grow [Exit.

easy.

Mon. Yes, I will try him, torture him severely; For, O Castalio, thou too much hast wrong'd me, In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage. He comes! and now, for once, O love, stand

neuter.

Whilst a hard part's perform'd; for I must 'tempt, Wound his soft nature, though my heart

aches for't.

Re-enter CASTALIO.

Cas. Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind To leave me here alone.

Re-enter POLYDORE, with Page, at the Door. Pol. Here place yourself, and watch my brother thoroughly;

Pass not one circumstance without remark.
[Apart to Page, and exit.
Cas. When thou art from me, every place
is desert,

And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn:
Thy presence only 'tis can make me blest,
Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my soul.
Mon. O the bewitching tongues of faithless
men!

Cas. Who told you so? What hell-bred villain durst

Profane the sacred business of my love?
Mon. Your brother, knowing on what terms
I'm here,

Th' unhappy object of your father's charity,
Licentiously discours'd to me of love,
And durst affront me with his brutal passion.

Cas. 'Tis I have been to blame, and only I;
False to my brother, and unjust to thee.
For, oh! he loves thee too, and this day own'd it,
Tax'd me with mine, and claim'd a right

above me.

Mon. And was your love so very tame to shrink?

Or, rather than lose him, abandon me?

Cas. I, knowing him precipitate and rash, Seem'd to comply with his unruly will; Lest he in rage might have our loves betray'd, And I for ever had Monimia lost.

Mon. Could you then, did you, can you own it too?

'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself! And I can never think you meant me fair.

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, While greedily we snatch th' alluring bait, And ne'er distrust the poison that it hides. Mon. When love ill-plac'd, would find a means to break

Cas. It never wants pretences or excuse. Mon. Man therefore was a lordlike creature made,

Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too:
A lofty aspect given him for command;
Easily soften'd when he would betray.
Like conqu'ring tyrants, you our breasts invade;
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave
The ravag'd province ruinate and waste.
If so, Castalio, you have serv'd my heart,
I find that desolation's settled there,
And I shall ne'er recover peace again.

Cas. Who can hear this and bear an equal mind?

Since you will drive me from you, I must go: But, O Monimia! when thou hast banish'd me, No creeping slave, though tractable and dull As artful woman for her ends would choose, Shall ever dote as I have done.

Mon. Castalio, stay! we must not part. I find My rage ebbs out, and love flows in apace. These little quarrels love must needs forgive. Oh! charm me with the music of thy tongue, I'm ne'er so blest as when I hear thy vows, And listen to the language of thy heart. Cas. Where am I? Surely Paradise is round me!

hearts,

by the hand of heaven grow here,