Castalio! O Castalio! hast thou 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 all 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' se-

crets.

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;
For he was never half so kind as you are.
What must I do?

Mon Inform me how thou'st heard
Castalio and his brother use my name.

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;
At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolv'd-
Mon. What, good Cordelio?

Page. Not to quarrel for you.

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 leave

To tell you something that concerns you nearly. I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw. Mon. My lord Castalio!

Cas. Madam!

Mon. Have you purpos'd

To abuse me palpably? What means this usage? Why am I left with Polydore alone?

Cas. He best can tell you. Business of importance

Calls me away: I must attend my father.
Mon. Will you then leave me thus ?
Cas. But for a moment.

Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been, When business might have stay'd, and I been heard.

Cas. I could for ever hear thee; but this time Matters of such odd circumstances press me, That I must go.

[Erit

Mon. Then go, and ift be possible, for ever. Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business, And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes.

Pol. If to desire you, more than misers wealth, Or dying men an hour of added life; If softest wishes, and a heart more true Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd, Speak an ill-nature; you accuse me justly. Mon. Talk not of love, my lord, I must not hear it.

Pol. Who can behold such beauty and be silent? fated, Desire first taught us words. Man, when creaAt first alone long wander'd up and down Forlorn, and silent as his vassal beasts: But when a heaven-born maid, like you, appear'd,

hopes;

heart,

Unloos'd his tongue, and his first talk was love.
Mon. The first created pair indeed were bless'd;
They were the only objects of each other,
Therefore he courted her, and her alone;
But in this peopled world of beauty, where
There's roving room, where you may court, and

ruin

A thousand more, why need you talk to me? Pol. Oh! I could talk to thee for ever. Thus Eternally admiring, fix, and gaze,

On those dear eyes; for every glance they send Darts through my soul.

Mon. How can you labour thus for my undoing?

I must confess, indeed, I owe you more
Than ever I can hope, or think, to pay.
There always was a friendship 'twixt our families
And therefore when my tender parents died,
Whose ruin'd fortunes too expir'd with them,
Your father's pity and his bounty took me,
A poor and helpless orphan, to his care.

Pol. 'Twas Heaven ordain'd it so, to make me

happy.

Hence with this peevish virtue, 'tis a cheat; And those who taught it first were hypocrites. Come, these soft tender limbs were made for yielding.

Mon. Here, on my knees, by Heaven's bless'd power I swear, [Kneels.

Serv. My lord, th' expected guests are just arriv'd.

Acas. Go you and give 'em welcome and reception.

[Eruent 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 died, they died 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 em-
brac'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 Heaven 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.

ness,

I've heard a story lately much disturbs me. Acas. Then first charge her; and if th' offence be found

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. [Erit.

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. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so?
Mon. Look kindly on me then; I canot 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?

[man

Mon. I never shall.
Cham. Then you'll remember too he was a
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 forgiven 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
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!

[value,

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?

bear it.

Acas. Go on.

Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly; Good offices claim gratitude; and pride, Where power is wanting, will usurp a little, And make us (rather than be thought behind hand) Pay over price.

Just where that famous tale was interwoven,
How the unhappy Theban slew his father.

Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected!
Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden,
I must be tortur'd waking!

What follow'd was the riddle that confounds me.
Through a lose lane, as I pursu'd my journey,
And meditating on the last night's vision,
I spy'd a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and
red:
[wither'd,
Cold palsy shook her head, her hand seem'd
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd
The tatter'd remnant of an old striped 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 different 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, Mo-
nimia,

As in it bore great circumstance of truth:
Castalio and Polydore, my sister.

| For, O, Castalio, thou too much hast wrong'd

me,

In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage.
He comes; and now, for once, Ở Love, stand

neuter,

Whilst a hard part 's performed; 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 erit.
Cas. When thou art from me, every place is
desert,

And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn:
Thy presence only 'tis can make me bless'd,
Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my soul.

Mon. O the bewitching tongues of faithless men!

'Tis thus the false hyena makes her moan,
To draw the pitying traveller to her den:
Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all;
With sighs and plaints y' entice poor women's
hearts,

And all that pity you are made your prey.
Cas. What means my love? Oh, how have I

deserv'd

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 for

sworn!

Attempt no further to delude my faith,
My heart is fix'd, and you shall shake't no more.
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, in 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.
Mo. Man therefore was a lord-like 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 conquering 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, Ó 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 bless'd as when I hear thy vows,
And listen to the language of thy heart.

Cas. Where am I? Surely, Paradise is round

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; His eyes distorted grew, his visage pale, His 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?