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Cast. Monimia, Monimia!She's gone;
And seemed to part with anger in her eyes.
I am a fool, and she has found my weakness;
She uses me already like a slave,

Fast bound in chains, to be chastised at will.
'Twas not well done to trifle with my brother;
I might have trusted him with all the secret,
Opened my silly heart, and shewn it bare.-
But then he loves her too; but not like me :
I am a doating honest slave, designed
For bondage, marriage bonds, which I have sworn
To wear. It is the only thing I e'er
Hid from his knowledge, and he'll sure forgive
The first transgression of a wretched friend,
Betrayed to love, and all its little follies. [Exit.

Enter POLYDORE and Page at the door.
Pol. Here place yourself, and watch my bro-
ther thoroughly.

If he should chance to meet Monimia, make
Just observation on each word and action;
Pass not one circumstance without remark:
Sir, 'tis your office; do it, and bring me word.

[Exit Pol.

Enter MONIMIA and CASTALIO.
Cast. Moninia, my angel ! 'twas not kind
To leave me like a turtle here alone,
To droop and mourn the absence of my mate.
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. Oh, the bewitching tongues of faithless
men!

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

And all, that pity you, are made your prey.

Cast. What means my love? Oh, how have I deserved

This language, from the sovereign of my joys?
Stop, stop those tears, Monimia, for they fall,
Like baneful dew from a distempered sky;
I feel them chill me to my very heart.

Mon. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most forsworn!

Attempt no farther to delude my faith;
My heart is fixed, and you shall shake it no more.
Cast. Who told you so? What ill-bred villain

durst

Profane the sacred business of my love?

VoL. I.

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

Or, rather than lose him, abandon me?

Cast. I, knowing him precipitate and rash, To calm his heat, and to conceal my happiness, Seemed to comply with his unruly will; Talked as he talked, and granted all he asked; Lest he in rage might have our loves betrayed, 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.

Cast. Is this Monimia ? surely no; till now I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind. Who trusts his heart with woman is surely lost. You were made fair on purpose to undo us, While greedily we snatch the alluring bait, And ne'er distrust the poison, that it hides. Mon. When love ill-placed would find a means to break

Cast. It never wants pretences or excuse. Mon. Man therefore was a lord-like creature

nade,

Rongh as the winds, and as inconstant too ;
A lofty aspect given him for cominand,
Easily softened, wlien he would betray.
Like conquering tyrants, you our breasts invade,
While you are pleased to forage for a while;
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave
The ravaged province ruinate and waste.
If so, Castalio, you have served my heart,
I find that desolation is settled there,
And I shall ne'er recover peace again.

Cast. Who can hear this and bear an equal mind!

Since you will drive me from you, I must go; But, oh, Monimia! When thou hast banished

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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 raged, Castalio grew disturbed; Each thought the other wronged; yet both so haughty,

They scorned submission: though love all the while

The rebel played, and scarce could be contained. 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 sighed and blushed, Castalio swore; As you, my lord, I well remember, did To my young sister, in the orange grove, When I was first preferred to be your page. Pol. Happy Castalio! Now, by my great soul, My ambitious soul, that languishes for 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 refused? Has he supplanted me by some foul play? Traduced my honour? Death! he durst not do it. It must be so we parted, and he met her, Half to compliance brought by me; surprised Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite. So poachers basely pick up tired game, While the fair hunter is cheated of his prey. Boy!

Page, My lord!

Pol. Go to your chamber, and prepare your lute:

Find out some song to please me, that describes Women's hypocrisies, their subtle wiles, Betraying smiles, feigned tears, inconstancies; Their painted outsides, and corrupted minds; The sum of all their follies, and their falsehoods.

Enter Servant.

His eyes distorted grew; his visage pale;
His speech forsook him; life itself seemed fled,
And all his friends are waiting now about him.
Enter ACASTO, leaning on twọ.

Acast. Support me; give me air; I'll yet reco

ver.

'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 searched, as you commanded, all the house; He and Monimia are not to be found.

Acast. Not to be found! then where are all my friends? "Tis well;

I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault
My unmannerly infirmity has made!
Death could not come in a more welcome hour;
For I'm prepared to meet him, and, methinks,
Would live and die with all my friends about me.

Enter CASTALIO and MONIMIA.

Cast. Angels preserve my dearest father's life, Bless it with long uninterrupted days! Oh, may he live till time itself decay, "Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him! Acast. Thank you, Castalio; give me both your hands,

And bear me up; I'd walk. So, now, methinks,
I appear as great as Hercules himself,
Supported by the pillars he had raised.
Cast. My lord, your chaplain.
Acast. Let the good man enter.

Enter Chaplain.

Chap. Heaven guard your lordship, and restore
your health.

Acast. I have provided for thee, if I die.
No fawning! 'tis a scandal to thy office.
My sons, as thus united ever live;
And for the estate you'll find, when I am dead,
I have divided it betwixt you both,
Equally parted, as you shared my love;

Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er Only to sweet Monimia I have bequeathed

told!

Pol. The matter!

Sero. Oh! your father, my good master, As with his guests he sat, in mirth raised high, And chased the goblet round the joyful board, A sudden trembling seized on all his limbs;

Ten thousand crowns; a little portion for her,
To wed her honourably as she's born."

Be not less friends because you are brothers;

shun

The man that's singular; his mind's unsound, His spleen o'erweighs his brains; but, above all,

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Calls saucy loud suspicion public zeal,
And mutiny, the dictates of his spirit:
Be very careful how you make new friends.
Men read not morals now: 'twas a custom :
But all are to their father's vices born;
And in their mother's ignorance are bred.
Let marriage be the last mad thing you do,
For all the sins and follies of the past.

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If you have children, never give them knowledge;
Twill spoil their fortune; fools are all the fashion;
If you have religion, keep it to yourselves;
Atheists will else make use of toleration,
And laugh you out of it. Never shew religion,
Except you mean to pass for knaves of conscience,
And cheat believing fools, that think yo honest.
Enter SERINA.

Ser. My father!
Acast. My heart's darling!
Ser. Let my knees

Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest,
But wake and weep, till Heaven restore my father.
Acast. Rise to my arms, and thy kind prayers
are answered.

For thou art a wondrous extract of all goodness, Born for my joy, and no pains felt when near

thee. Chamont!

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Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest,
Praise the kind gods, and wonder at his virtues.
Acast. Chamont, pursue her, conquer and pos-
sess her,

And, as my son, the third of all my fortune
Shall be thy lot.

But keep thy eyes from wandering, man of frailty.
Beware the dangerous beauty of the wanton;
Shun their enticements; ruin, like a vulture,
Waits on their conquests: falsehood too's their
business;

They put false beauty off to all the world,
Use false endearments to the fools that love them,
And, when they marry, to their silly husbands
They bring false virtue, broken fame and for-

tune.

Mon., Hear ye that, my lord?

Pol. Yes, my fair monitor, old men always talk thus.

Acast. Chamont, you told me of some doubts, that pressed you;

Are you vet satisfied that I'm your friend?
Cha. My lord, I would not lose that satisfac-
tion

For any blessing I could wish for.
As to my fears, already I have lost them;
They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you.
Acust. I thank you. Daughter, you must do

so too.

My friends, 'tis late;

Now my disorder seems all past and over,
And I, methinks, begin to feel new health.
Cast. Would you but rest, it might restore you
quite.

Acast. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour weakness:

Let me have music, then, to lull and chase
This melancholy thought of death away.
Good-night, my friends; Heaven guard ye all!
good-night!

To-morrow early we'll salute the day,
Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time.
[Exeunt all but Chumont and Chaplain.
Cha. Ilist, hist, Sir Gravity, a word with you.
Chap, With me, sir!

Cha. 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 are a soldier?

Cha. Yes.

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Nor I gravely whimsical; he has good nature,
And I have manners.

His sons too are civil to me, because

I do not pretend to be wiser than they are.

I meddle with no man's business but my own;

I rise in a morning early, study moderately,
Eat and drink chearfully, live soberly,
Take my innocent pleasure freely;

Cha. Why, what affrights thee?
Chap. You do,

Who are not to be trusted with the secret.
Cha. Why? I am no fool.
Chap. So indeed you say.
Cha, Prithee be serious then.
Chap. You see I am so,

And hardly shall be mad enough to-night

So meet with respect, and am not the jest of the To trust you with my ruin, family.

Cha. I'm glad you are so happy.

A pleasant fellow this, and may be useful. [Aside.
Knew you my father, the old Chamont?

Chap. I did, and was most sorry, when we lost
him.

Cha. Why? didst thou love him?
Chap. Every body loved him; besides he was
my master's friend.

Cha. 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.

Cha. Then prithee tell me,

Think'st thou the lord Castalio loves my sister?
Nay, never start. Come, come, I know thy

office

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Of all thy tribe that's honest? In your schools
The pride of your superiors makes ye slaves;
Ye all live loathsome, sneaking, servile lives;
Not free enough to practice generous truth,
Though ye pretend to teach it to the world.
Chap. I would deserve a better thought from
you.

Cha. If thou wouldst have me not contemn
thy office

And character, think all thy brethren knaves,
Thy trade a cheat, and thou its worst professor,
Inform me; for I tell thee, priest, I'll know.
Chap. Either he loves her, or he much has
wronged her.

Cha. How! wronged her? Have a care, for
this may lay

A scene of mischief to undo us all.
But tell me, wronged her, saidst thou?
Chap. Ay, sir, wronged her.

Cha. This is a secret worth a monarch's for-
tune :

What shall I give thee for it? Thou dear physician
Of sickly souls, unfold this riddle to me,
And comfort mine-

Chap. I would hide nothing from you willingly.
Cha. Nay, then again thou art honest. Would'st
thou tell me?
Chap. Yes, if I durst.

Cha. Art thou then

So far concerned in it? What has been thy office?
Curse on that formal steady villain's face!
Just so do all bawds look: nay, bawds, they say,
Can pray upon occasions, talk of heaven,
Turn up their goggling eye-balls, rail at vice,
Dissemble, lie, and preach like any priest.
Art thou a bawd?

Chap. Sir, I am not often used thus.
Cha. Be just then.

Chap. So I shall be to the trust,
That is laid upon me.

Cha. By the reverenced soul

Of that great honest man, that gave me being,
Tell me but what thou knowest concerns my

honour,

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Cha. How, married!
Chap. Yes, sir.

Cha. 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.

Cha. What's the cause

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Keep still the secret; for it ne'er shall escape | But speak not the least word; for if you should,

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Cast. Young Chamont and the chaplain? sure 'tis they!

No matter what's contrived, or who consulted,
Since my Monimia's mine; though this sad look
Seems no good boding omen to her bliss ;
Else prithee tell me why that look cast down?
Why that sad sigh, as if thy heart was breaking?
Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we have
done.

The heavenly powers were sure displeased to-day;
For at the ceremony as we stood,

And as your hand was kindly joined with mine,
As the good priest pronounced the sacred words,
Passion grew big, and I could not forbear,
Tears drowned my eyes, and trembling seized my
soul.

What should that mean?

Cast. Oh, thou art tender all! Gentle and kind as sympathising nature! When a sad story has been told, I have seen Thy little breasts, with soft compassion swelled, Move up and down, and heave like dying birds. But now let fear be banished, think no more Of danger; for there's safety in my arms; Let them receive thee. Heaven grows jealous

now;

Sure she's too good for any mortal creature!
I could grow wild, and praise thee even to mad-

ness.

But wherefore do I dally with my bliss?
The night's far spent, and day draws on apace;
To bed, my love, and wake till I come thither.
Pol. Sohot, my brother! [Polydore at the door.
Mon. Twill be impossible;

You know your father's chamber is next to mine,
And the least noise will certainly alarm him.

Cast. Impossible! impossible! alas: Is it impossible to live one hour without thee? Let me behold those eyes; they'll tell me truth. Hast thou no longing? art thou still the same Cold, icy virgin? No; thou art altered quite : Haste, haste to bed, and let loose all thy wishes. Mon. 'Tis but one night, my lord; I pray be ruled.

Cast. Try if thou hast power to stop a flowing tide,

Or in a tempest make the seas be calm;

And, when that is done, I'll conquer my desires.
No more, my blessing. What shall be the sign?
When shall I come? for to my joys I'll steal,
As if I ne'er had paid my freedom for them.
Mon. Just three soft strokes upon the cham-
ber door;

And at that signal you shall gain admittance :

'Tis surely heard, and all will be betrayed.
Cast. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys
Shall be as silent as the ecstatic bliss
Of souls, that by intelligence converse!
Immortal pleasures shall our senses drown,
Thought shall be lost, and every power dissolved.
Away, my love; first take this kiss. Now haste.
I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute
past.
[Exit. Mon.
My brother wandering too so late this way!
Pol. Castalio!

Cast. My Polydore, how dost thou ?
How does our father? Is he well recovered?
Pol. I left him happily reposed to rest;
He's still as gay as if his life were young.
But how does fair Monimia?

Cast. Doubtless, well:

A cruel beauty, with her conquest pleased,
Is always joyful, and her mind in health.

Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was? May we not hope she's made of mortal mould? Cast. She's not woman else:

Though I am grown weary of this tedious hoping; We have in a barren desert strayed too long.

Pol. Yet may relief be unexpected found, And love's sweet manna cover all the field. Met ye to-day?

Cast. No; she has still avoided me: Her brother, too, is jealous of her grown, And has been hinting something to my father. I wish I had never meddled with the matter: And would enjoin thee, Polydore

Pol. To what?

Cast. To leave this peevish beauty to herself. Pol. What, quit my love? As soon I would

quit my post

In fight, and, like a coward, run away.
No, by my stars, I'll chase her, till she yields
To me, or meets her rescue in another.

Cast. Nay, she has beauty, that might shake the leagues

Of mighty kings, and set the world at odds;
But I have wondrous reasons on my side,
That would persuade thee, were they known.
Pol. Then speak them:

What are they? Came ye to her window here,
To learn them now? Castalio, have a care;
Use honest dealing with a friend and brother.
Believe me, I am not with my love so blinded,
But can discern your purpose to abuse me.
Quit your pretences to her,

Cast. Grant I do;

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