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Cha. Why wilt thou rack

My soul so long, Monimia? Ease me quickly;
Or thou wilt run me into madness first.
Mon. Could you be secret?
Cha. Secret as the grave.

Mon. But when I have told you, will you keep your fury

Within its bonds? Will you not do some rash
And horrid mischief? For indeed, Chamont,

You would not think how hardly I've been used
From a near friend, from one, that has my soul
A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.

Cha. I will be calm-but has Castalio wronged thee?

Has he already wasted all his love?

What has he done? Quickly, for I'm all trembling

With expectation of a horrid tale.

Mon. Oh! could you think it!
Cha. What?

Mon. I fear he'll kill me.

Cha. Ha!

Mon. Indeed I do; he's strangely cruel to me; Which, if it last, I'm sure must break my heart. Cha. What has he done?

Mon. Most barbarously used me. Nothing so kind as he, when in my arms! In thousand kisses, tender sighs and joys, Not to be thought again, the night was wasted; At dawn of day he rose, and left his conquest. But, when we met, and I, with open arms, Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes, Oh, then!

Cha. Go on!

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Throw him to the earth, like a dead dog despised! Lameness and leprosy, blindness and lunacy, Poverty, shame, pride, and the name of villain, Light on me, if, Castalio, I forgive thee!

Mon. Nay, now, Chamont, art thou unkind as he is!

Didst thou not promise me thou wouldst be calm?

Keep my disgrace concealed? Why shouldst thou kill him?

By all my love, this arm should do him vengeance.
Alas! I love him still, and though I ne'er
Clasp him again within these longing arms,

Yet bless him, bless him, gods! where'er he goes. Enter ACASTO.

Acast. Sure some ill fate is towards me; in

my house

I only meet with oddness and disorder;
Each vassal has a wild distracted face,
And looks as full of business as a blockhead
In times of danger. Just this very moment
I met Castalio-

Cha. Then you met a villain.
Acast. Ha!

Cha. Yes, a villain.

Acast. Have a care, young soldier,

How thou art too busy with Acasto's fame.
I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance;
Villain to thee!

Cha. Curse on thy scandalous age,
Which hinders me to rush upon thy throat,
And tear the root up of that cursed bramble!
Acast. Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old

friend

Was ne'er thy father; nothing of him is in thee.
What have I done in my unhappy age,
To be thus used? I scorn to upbraid thee, boy;
But I could put thee in remembrance-
Cha. Do.

Acast. I scorn it

Cha. No, I'll calinly hear the story,

For I would fain know all, to see which scale
Weighs most-Ha! is not that good old Acasto?
What have I done? Can you forgive this folly?
Acast. Why dost thou ask it?
Cha. 'Twas the rude overflowing

Of too much passion. Pray, my lord, forgive me. [Kneels. Acast. Mock me not, youth! I can revenge a

wrong.

Cha. I know it well; but, for this thought of mine,

Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it.

Acast. I will; but henceforth prithee be more kind. [Raises him.

Whence came the cause?

Cha. Indeed I have been to blame;

But I'll learn better; for you have been my fa

ther.

You have been her father too

[Takes Mon. by the hand.
Acust. Forbear the prologue-
And let me know the substance of thy tale.
Cha. You took her up, a little tender flower,
Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost
Had nipped; and, with a careful loving hand,
Transplanted her into your own fair garden,
Where the sun always shines. There long she
flourished,

Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye;
'Till at the last a cruel spoiler came,
Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then cast it, like a loathsome weed, away.

Acast. You talk to me in parables, Chamont,

You may have known, that I am no wordy man; | Is framing mischiefs too, for aught I know,
Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves,
Of fools, that use them, when they want good

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Your son Castalio has wronged Monimia.
Acust. Ha! wronged her?

Cha. Married her.
Acast. I am sorry for it.

Cha. Why sorry?

By yon blest heaven, there's not a lord

But might be proud to take her to his heart!
Acast. I'll not deny it.

Cha. You dare not; all your family combined In one damned falsehood to outdo Castalio, Dare not deny it.

Acast. How has Castalio wronged her?

Cha. Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wronged:

Monimia, my sister, born as high
And noble as Castalio-Do her justice,
Or, by the gods, I'll lay a scene of blood,
Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature.

I'll do it. Hark you, my lord! your son Castalio;
Take him to your closet, and there teach him

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That may produce bloodshed and horrid murder.
I would not be the cause of one man's death
To reign the empress of the earth; nay, more,
I would rather lose, for ever, my Castalio,
My dear unkind Castalio!

Enter POLYDORE.

Pol. Monimia, weeping!

So morning dews on new-blown roses lodge,
By the sun's amorous heat to be exhaled.

I come, my love, to kiss all sorrow from thee: . What mean these sighs? And why thus beats thy heart?

Mon. Let me alone to sorrow. 'Tis a cause None ere shall know: but it shall with me die.

Pol. Happy, Monimia, he, to whom these sighs, These tears, and all these languishings, are paid! I am no stranger to your dearest secret :

I know your heart was never meant for me;
That jewel's for an elder brother's price.
Mon. My lord!

Pol. Nay, wonder not; last night I heard
His oaths, your vows, and to my torment saw
Your wild embraces; heard the appointment
made;

I did, Monimia, and cursed the sound.
Wilt thou be sworn, my love? wilt thou be ne'er
Unkind again?

Mon. Banish such fruitless hopes!
Have you swore constancy to my undoing?
Will you be ne'er my friend again?
Pol. What means my love?

Mon. Away; what meant my lord
Last night?

Pol. Is that a question now to be demanded?
I hope Monimia was not much displeased.
Mon. Was it well done to treat me like a
prostitute?

To assault my lodging at the dead of night,
And threaten me, if I denied admittance-
You said you were Castalio-

Pol. By those eyes

[Exit. It was the same: I spent my time much better: I tell thee, ill-natured fair one, I was posted

Mon. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to

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To more advantage, on a pleasant hill

Of springing joy, and everlasting sweetness.
Mon. Ha-have a care

Pol. Where is the danger near me?

Mon. I fear you are on a rock will wreck your
quiet,

I'll prove
[Exit. And drown your soul in wretchedness for ever;
Who on
A thousand horrid thoughts crowd on my memory.
Will you be kind, and answer me one question?
Pol. I'll trust thee with my life; on those soft
breasts

Is there so wretched as Monimia?
First by Castalio cruelly forsaken;
I have lost Acasto now: his parting frowns
May well instruct me, rage is in his heart:
I shall be next abandoned to my fortune,
Thrust out a naked wanderer to the world,
And branded for the mischievous Monimia!
What will become of me? my cruel brother

Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart,
Till I have nothing in my heart but love.

Mon. Nay, I'll conjure you by the gods and angels,

By the honour of your name, that's most concerned,

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Pol. She faints! No help! who waits? A curse
Upon my vanity, that could not keep
The secret of my happiness in silence.
Confusion! we shall be surprised anon,
And consequently all must be betrayed.
Monimia! She breathes-Monimia-
Mon. Well-

Let mischiefs multiply! Let every hour
Of my loathed life yield me increase of horror!
Oh, let the sun to these unhappy eyes
Ne'er shine again, but be eclipsed for ever;
May every thing, I look on, seem a prodigy,
To fill my soul with terrors, till I quite
Forget I ever had humanity,

And grow a curser of the works of nature!
Pol. What means all this?

Mon. Oh, Polydore, if all

The friendship e'er you vowed to good Castalio
Be not a falsehood; if you ever loved
Your brother, you have undone yourself and me.
Pol. Which way can ruin reach the man that's
rich,

As I am, in possession of thy sweetness?
Mon. Oh! I'm his wife.

Pol. What says Monimia! ha!

Speak that again.

Mon. I am Castalio's wife.

Pol. His married, wedded wife?
Mon. Yesterday's sun

Saw it performed.

Pol. And then, have I enjoyed

My brother's wife?

Mon. As surely as we both

Must taste of misery, that guilt is thine.
Pol. Must we be miscrable then?
Mon. Oh!

Pol. Oh! thou mayst yet be happy.
Mon. Couldst thou be

Happy, with such a weight upon thy soul ?

Pol. It may be yet a secret; I'll go try
To reconcile and bring Castalio to thee;
Whilst from the world I take myself away,
And waste my life in penance for my sin.
Mon. Then thou wouldst more undo me; heap
a load

Of added sins upon my wretched head.
Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,
And bring pollution to his arms? Curst thought!
Oh, when shall I be mad indeed!

Pol. Nay, then,

Let us embrace, and from this very moment
Vow an eternal misery together.

Mon. And wilt thou be a very faithful wretch?
Never grow fond of cheerful peace again?
Wilt thou with me study to be unhappy,
And find out ways how to increase affliction?
Pol. We'll institute new arts, unknown before,
To vary plagues, and make them look like new ones.
First, if the fruit of our detested joy,

A child, be born, it shall be murdered-
Mon. No;

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I'll find some place, where adders nest in winter,
Loathsome and venomous: where poisons hang,
Like gums, against the walls: where witches meet
By night, and feed upon some pampered imp,
Fat with the blood of babes: There I'll inhabit,
And live up to the height of desperation;
Desire shall languish like a withering flower,
And no distinction of the sex be thought of.
Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,
And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms,
But, when I'm dying, take me in thy arms.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-A Garden. CASTALIO lying on the ground.-Soft music. SONG.

Come, all ye youths, whose hearts e'er bled
By cruel beauty's pride;
Bring each a garland on his head,

Let none his sorrows hide :
But hand in hand around me move,
Singing the saddest tales of love;

And see, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine.

The happiest mortal once was I; My heart no sorrows knew ; Pity the pain with which I die,

But ask not whence it grew. Yet if a tempting fair you find, That's very lovely, very kind,

[Excunt.

Though bright as heaven, whose stamp she bears,
Think of my fate, and shun her snures.

See, where the deer trot after one another,
Male, female, father, daughter, mother, son,
Brother and sister, mingled all together.
No discontent they know; but in delightful

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Cast. A woman! If you love my peace of
mind,

Name not a woman to me; but to think
Of woman, were enough to taint my brains,
Till they ferment to madness. Oh, my father!
Acast. What ails my boy?
Cast. A woman is the thing

I would forget, and blot from my remembrance.
Acast. Forget Monimia!

Cast. She, to chuse: Monimia!

The very sound's ungrateful to my sense.

Acast. This might seem strange, but you, I've found, will hide

Your heart from me; you dare not trust your father.

Cast. No more Monimia.
Acast. Is she not your wife?

Cast. So much the worse; who loves to hear of wife ?

When you would give all worldly plagues a name,
Worse than they have already, call them wife:
But a new-married wife's a teeming mischief,
Full of herself! Why, what a deal of horror
Has that poor wretch to come, that wedded yes-
terday!

Acast. Castalio, you must go along with me, And see Monimia.

Cast. Sure my lord but mocks me.
Go see Monimia! Pray, my lord, excuse me,
And leave the conduct of this part of life
To my own choice.

Acast. I say, no more dispute. Complaints are made to me, that you have wronged her.

Cast. Who has complained ?

Cast. Speak, what said he?

Acast. That thou wert a villain;

Methinks I would not have thee thought a villain.
Cast. Shame on the ill-mannered brute!
Your age secured him; he durst not else have
said so.

Acast. By my sword,

I would not see wronged, and bear it vilely: Though I have passed my word she shall have justice.

Cast. Justice! to give her justice would undo her.

Think you this solitude I now have chosen, Left joys, just opening to my sense, sought here A place to curse my fate in, measured out My grave at length, wished to have grown one piece

With this cold clay, and all without a cause?

Enter CHAMONT.

Cha. Where is the hero, famous and renowned For wronging innocence and breaking vows? Whose mighty spirit, and whose stubborn heart, No woman can appease, nor man provoke?

Acast. I guess, Chamont, you come to seek Castalio.

Cha. I come to seek the husband of Monimia. Cast. The slave is here.

Cha. I thought ere now to have found you Atoning for the ills you have done Chamónt; For

you have wronged the dearest part of him. Monimia, young lord, weeps in this heart; And all the tears, thy injuries have drawn From her poor eyes, are drops of blood from

hence.

Cast. Then you are Chamont? Cha. Yes, and I hope no stranger To great Castalio.

Cast. I have heard of such a man, That has been very busy with my honour. I own, I'm much indebted to you, sir, And here return the villain back again, You sent me by my father.

Cha. Thus I'll thank you.

[Draws.

Acast. By this good sword, who first presumes to violence,

Makes me his foe [Draws and interposes.
Young man, it once was thought [To Cast.
I was fit guardian of my house's honour;
And you might trust your share with me-

-For [To Cha. Young soldier, I must tell you, you have wronged

you,

me.

Acast. Her brother, to my face, proclaimed her I promised you to do Monimia right,

wronged,

And in such terms they have warmed me.

Cast. What terms? Her brother! Heaven! Where learned she that?

What! does she send her hero with defiance? He durst not sure affront you!

And thought my word a pledge, I would not forfeit:

But you, I find, would fright us to performance. Cast. Sir, in my younger years, with care you

taught me,

That brave revenge was due to injured honour;

Oppose not then the justice of my sword,
Lest you should make me jealous of your love.
Cha. Into thy father's arms thou fliest for
safety,

Because thou knowest that place is sanctified
With the remembrance of an ancient friendship.
Cast. I am a villain, if I will not seek thee,
Till I may be revenged for all the wrongs,
Done me by that ungrateful fair, thou pleadest for.
Cha. She wronged thee! by the fury in my
heart,

Thy father's honour's not above Monimia's;
Nor was thy mother's truth and virtue fairer.

Acast. Boy, don't disturb the ashes of the dead With thy capricious follies. The remembrance Of the loved creature, that once filled these

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Sheath up thy angry sword, and don't affright me. Chamont, let once Serina calm thy breast:

If

any of my friends have done thee injuries, I'll be revenged, and love thee better for it.

Cast. Sir, if you'd have me think you did not take

This opportunity to shew your vanity,

Let's meet some other time, when by ourselves
We fairly may dispute our wrongs together.
Cha. Till then, I am Castalio's friend.
Cast. Serina,

Farewell: I wish much happiness attend you.
Ser. Chamont's the dearest thing I have on earth;
Give me Chamont, and let the world forsake me.
Cha. Witness the gods, how happy I'm in thee!
No beauteous blossom of the fragrant spring,
Though the fair child of nature, newly born,
Can be so lovely. Angry, unkind Castalio,
Suppose I should a while lay by my passions,
And be a beggar in Monimia's cause,
Might I be heard?

Cast. Sir, 'twas my last request,

You would, though I find you will not be satisfied;

So, in a word, Monimia is my scorn;
She basely sent you here to try my fears;

That was your business;

No artful prostitute, in falsehoods practised,
To make advantage of her coxcomb's follies,
Could have done more.-Disquiet vex her for it!
Cha. Farewell.
[Exit Cha. and Ser.

Cast. Farewell-My father, you seem troubled. Acast. Would I'd been absent, when this boisterous brave

Came to disturb thee thus. I'm grieved I hindered

Thy just resentment. But Monimia-
Cast. Damn her.

Acast. Don't curse her.
Cast. Did I?
Acast. Yes.

Cast. I'm sorry for it.

Acast. Methinks, if, as I guess, the fault's but small,

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Flor. Oh, shew me quickly, where's Castalio!
Acast. Why, what's the business?
Flor. Oh, the poor Monimia !
Cast. Ha!

Acast. What's the matter?

Flor. Hurried by despair,

She flies with fury over all the house,
Through every room of each apartment, crying,
'Where's my Castalio? Give me my Castalio!
Except she see you, sure she'll grow distracted.

Cast. Ha! will she? Does she name Castalio? And with such tenderness? Conduct me quickly To the poor lovely mourner. Oh, my father! Acast. Then wilt thou go? Blessings attend thy purpose.!

Cust. I cannot hear Monimia's soul's in sadness, And be a man; my heart will not forgot her; But do not tell the world you saw this of me.

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