| 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 men; |
| Learn how to value merit, though in rags, |
| And scorn a proud, ill-manner'd, knave in office. |
| |
| Enter Serina. |
| |
| Ser. My lord, my father! |
| |
| Acas. Blessings on my child! |
| My little cherub, what hast thou to ask me? |
| |
| Ser. I bring you, sir, most glad and welcome news; |
| The young Chamont, whom you've so often wish'd for, |
| Is just arriv'd, and entering. |
| |
| Acas. By my soul, |
| And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome; |
| Let me receive him like his father's friend. |
| |
| Enter Chamont. |
| |
| Welcome, thou relic of the best lov'd man! |
| Welcome, from all the turmoils and the hazards |
| Of certain danger and uncertain fortune! |
| Welcome, as happy tidings after fears. |
| |
| Cham. Words would but wrong the gratitude I owe you! |
| Should I begin to speak, my soul's so full, |
| That I should talk of nothing else all day. |
| |
| Enter Monimia. |
| |
| Mon. My brother! |
| |
| Cham. O my sister, let me hold thee |
| Long in my arms. I've not beheld thy face |
| These many days; by night I've often seen thee |
| In gentle dreams, and satisfy'd my soul |
| With fancy'd joys, till morning cares awak'd me. |
| 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? |
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| Cas. I would, my lord. |
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| 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? |
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| Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it. |
| |
| Acas. Go on. |
| |
| Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly; |
| Good offices claim gratitude; and pride, |
| Where pow'r is wanting, will usurp a little, |
| And make us (rather than be thought behind hand) |
| Pay over price. |
| |
| Acas. I cannot guess your drift; |
| Distrust you me? |
| |
| Cham. No, but I fear her weakness |
| May make her pay her debt at any rate: |
| And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness, |
| 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.[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. Pr'ythee, 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. |
| |
| 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 I |
| Lay musing on 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; |
| Then rose, and call'd for lights, when, O dire omen! |
| I found my weapon had the arras pierc'd, |
| 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! |
| |
| Cham. Have a care; |
| Labour not to be justify'd too fast: |
| Hear all, and then let justice hold the scale. |
| What follow'd was the riddle that confounds me. |
| Through a close 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: |
| 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 carcase 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! |
| |
| Cham. What, alter'd? does your courage fail you? |
| Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest. |
| Answer me, if thou hast not lost them |
| Thy honour at a sordid game? |
| |
| Mon. I will, |
| I must, so hardly my misfortune loads me:— |
| That both have offer'd me their love's most true. |
| |
| Cham. And 'tis as true too they have both undone thee. |
| |
| Mon. Though they both with earnest vows |
| Have press'd my heart, if e'er in thought I yielded |
| To any but Castalio—— |
| |
| Cham. But Castalio! |
| |
| Mon. Still will you cross the line of my discourse. |
| Yes, I confess that he hath 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; |
| O 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 of love, 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 easy.[exit. |
| |
| 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! |
| '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 forsworn! |
| 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, 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 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 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! |
| Sweets planted by the hand of heaven grow here, |
| And every sense is full of thy perfection. |
| Sure, framing thee, heaven took unusual care; | } |
| As its own beauty it design'd thee fair, | |
| And form'd thee by the best lov'd angel there. |
| [exeunt. |