Ser. Oh! name not love, for that 's allied 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 Chamont, you told me of some doubts that press'd My friends, 'tis late: Now my disorder seems all past and over, Good night, my friends! Heaven guard you all! To-morrow early we'll salute the day, [Exeunt all but CHAMONT and CHAPLAIN. Cham. If you're at leisure, Sir, we'll waste an hour: 'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and 'twill be charity To lend your conversation to a stranger. Chap. Sir, you're a soldier? Cham. Yes. Chap. I love a soldier; And had been one myself, but that my parents Would make me what you see me. Cham. Have you had long dependence on this family! Chap. I have not thought it so, because my time 's [Aside. Knew you my father, the old Chamont? Chap. I did: and was most sorry when we lost him. Cham. Why, didst thou love him? Chap. Every body loved him; besides, he was my patron's friend. Cham. I could embrace thee for that very notion: If thou didst love my father, I could think Thou wouldst not be an enemy to me. Chap. I can be no man's foe. Cham. Then pr'ythee, tell me; Think'st thou the lord Castalio loves my sister? Chap. Love your sister? Cham. Ay, love her. Cham. How wrong'd her? have a care; for this may lay A scene of mischief to undo us all. Chap. Ay, Sir, wrong'd her. Cham. This is a secret worth a monarch's for tune : [cian What shall I give thee for't? thou dear physiOf sickly wounds, unfold this riddle to me, And comfort mine Chap. I would hide nothing from you willingly. Cham. By the reverenc'd soul Of that great honest man that gave me being, Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my honour, And, if I e'er reveal it to thy wrong, Cham. Wilt thou? Chap. I will; but if it ever 'scape you Cham. It never shall. Chap. Then, this good day, when all the house was busy, When mirth and kind rejoicing fill'd each room, As I was walking in the grove I met them. Cham. What, met them in the grove together? Chap. 1, by their own appointment, met them there, [hands. Receiv'd their marriage vows, and join'd their Cham. How! married? Chap. Yes, Sir. Cham. Then my soul 's at peace: But why would you so long delay to give it? Chap. Not knowing what reception it may find With old Acasto; may be, I was too cautious To trust the secret from me. Cham. What's the cause I cannot guess, though 'tis my sister's honour, Re-enter CAST ALIO, with MONIMIA. Cas. Young Chamont and the chaplain! sure 'tis they! Since my Monimia's mine; though this sad look And as your hand was kindly join'd with mine, soul. Cas. O, thou art tender all! Re-enter POLYDORE, unobserved. Chap. Either he loves her or he much has The night 's far spent, and day draws on apace. wrong'd her. To bed, my love, and wake till I come thither Mon. "Twill be impossible: You know your father's chamber's next to mine, What shall be the sign? When shall I come? for to my joys I'll steal, And at that signal you shall gain admittance: But speak not the least word; for, if you should, "Tis surely heard, and all will be betray'd. Cas. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys Now, Cas. Doubtless, well: A cruel beauty, with her conquest pleas'd, Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was? May we not hope she 's made of mortal mould? Čas. She 's not woman else: Though I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping; We've in a barren desert stray'd too long. Pol. Yet may relief be unexpected found, And love's sweet manna cover all the field. Met ye to-day? Cas. No; she has still avoided me; I wish I'd never meddled with the matter Pol. To what? Cas. To leave this peevish beauty to herself. Pol. What, quit my love? as soon I'd quit my post In fight, and like a coward run away. Cas. But I have wondrous reasons on my side, That would persuade thee, were they known. Pol. Then speak 'em: What are they? Came ye to her window here You say you've reasons: why are they conceal'd? Pol. Why not now? Cas. It is a matter of such consequence, Pol. When you, Castalio, cease Cas. Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent. Pretend to secrecy, cajole and flatter Command, whate'er 's your pleasure I'll observe; A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom: Go to my brother, he 's in his chamber now, But do not leave him till he 's in his bed; Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been al ways kind To me; would often set me on his knee, wishes. [Erit Pack Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief. [Gives the sign Cas. I will, my child. Page. It is my lady Monimia, look you; but don't you tell her I told you: she'll give me no more play-things then. I heard her say so, as she lay abed, man. [delio? Cas. Talk'd she of me when in her bed, Cor- Flo. [At the window.] Who's there, [Knocks. That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest? Flo. Who are you? what's your name? The Lord Castalio has no business here. Cas. Ha! have a care! what can this mean? Whoe'er thou art, I charge thee, to Monimia fly. Tell her I'm here, and wait upon my doom. Flo. Whoe'er you are, you may repent this outrage: My lady must not be disturb'd. Good night! Cas. She must! tell her, she shall; go, I'm in haste, And bring her tidings from the state of love. Cas. Or this will make me so, Flo. My lady's answer is, you may depart. Cas. Curses blast thee! And sought an early share in your affection. Cas. Because my thoughts [them. Are full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past Ern. I hate the sex. Cas. Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto! [Rises. I'd leave the world for him that hates a woman! W Voman, the fountain of all human frailty! What mighty ills have not been done by woman 2 Who was't betray'd the capitol ?--a woman! Who lost Mark Antony the world?—a woman! Who was the cause of a long ten years' war, 'Tis every where it rages like a madness. Mon. You shall not fear't; indeed, my na- I'll ever live your most obedient wife! Beyond your will; for that shall be my law;- Cas. Nay, you shall not, Madam; By yon bright heaven, you shall not: all the day Mon. Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence! I'll never quit you else; but on these knees, Thus follow you all day, till they're worn bare, And hang upon you like a drowning creature. Castalio! Cas. Away! Last night! last night!- Cas. No more!-Forget it! Mon. Why do you then repent? Mon. O Heaven! [Florella! And will you leave me thus ?-Help! help! [CASTALIO drags her to the door, breaks from her, and exit. Help me to hold this yet lov'd, cruel man! Ere he would falsify his vows to me! Mon. O Castalio! Cham. Ha! Name me that name again! my soul's on fire Till I know all !-There 's meaning in that name I know he is thy husband; therefore, trust me With the following truth. Mon. Indeed, Chamont, There's nothing in it but the fault of nature: Cham. You use me ill, Monimia; fond, [other? And grieve for what as much may please anShould I upbraid the dearest friend on earth For the first fault? You would not do so, would you? Cham. Not if I'd cause to think it was a friend. Mon. Why do you then call this unfaithful dealing? I ne'er conceal'd my soul from you before: Bear with me now, and search my wounds no further; For every probing pains me to the heart. Cham. 'Tis sign there's danger in 't, and must be prob'd. Where's your new husband? Still that thought disturbs you What! only answer me with tears ?-Castalio Nay, now they stream: [me, Cruel, unkind, Castalio!-Is't not so? Mon. I cannot speak ;-grief flows so fast upon It chokes, and will not let me tell the cause. Oh! Cham. My Monimia! to my soul thou'rt dear As honour to my name! Why wilt thou not repose within my breast Mon. Oh! I dare not. [confide We must [your fury Cham. I have no friend but thee. In one another.-Two unhappy orphans, Alas! we are! and when I see thee grieve, Methinks it is a part of me that suffers. Mon. Could you be secret? Cham. Secret as the grave. Mon. But when I've told you, will you keep Within its bounds? Will you not do some rash And horrid mischief? For, indeed, Chamont, You would not think how hardly I've been us'd From a dear friend-from one that has my soul A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant. Cham. I will be calm.-But has Castalio wrong'd thee? [bling Has he already wasted all his love? Mon. Oh! could you think it? Mon. I fear, he'll kill me! Mon. Indeed, I do: he 's strangely cruel to me; Which, if it last, I'm sure must break my heart. Cham. What has he done? Mon. Most barbarously us'd me. Cham. Go on! Mon. He threw me from his breast, Like a detested sin. Cham. How! Mon. As I hung too Upon his knees, and begg'd to know the cause, He dragg'd me, like a slave, upon the earth, And had no pity on my cries. Cham. How did he Dash thee disdainfully away, with scorn? Cham. What! throw thee from him? Cham. So may this arm Alas, I love him still; and though I ne'er Cham. Yes, a villain! Acas. Have a care, young soldier, How thou'rt too busy with Acasto's fame. I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance:Villain, to thee. Cham. Curse on thy scandalous age, Was ne'er thy father! Nothing of him's in thee! Cham. Do. Acas. I scorn it. Acas. Mock me not, youth! I can revenge a wrong. [mine, Cham. I know it well-but for this thought of Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it. [kind. Acas. I will; but henceforth pr'ythee be more Whence came the cause? [Raises him. Cham. Indeed, I've been to blame; [Takes MONIMIA's hand. Acas. Forbear the prologue, And let me know the substance of thy tale. Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye; Cropp'd this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness, Acas. You talk to me in parables, Chamont: You may have known that I'm no wordy man. Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves, Or fools, that use them when they want good But honesty [sense. Needs no disguise or ornament. Be plain. Cham. Your son Acas. I've two; and both, I hope, have honour. Cham. I hope so too; but Acas. Speak. Cham. I must inform you, Once more, Castalio! Acas. Still Castalio! Your son Castalio has wrong'd Monimia! Acas. Ha! wrong'd her? Cham. Marry'd her. Acas. I'm sorry for't. Cham. Why sorry? By yon bless'd heaven, there's not a lord Cham. You dare not; by the gods, Acas. How has Castalio wrong'd her? Monimia: [Exit. Mon. My lord. Acas. You are my daughter. [me. Mon. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own Acas. When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father. (Frit |