"His body lies interred within this mould,
Who died a young man yet departed old,
And in all strength of youth that man can have
Was ready still to drop into his grave.
For aged in virtue, with a youthful eye
He welcomed it, being still prepared to die,
And living so, though young deprived of breath
He did not suffer an untimely death,
But we may say of his brave blessed decease
He died in war, and yet he died in peace."
[The second volley.
D'Am. O might that fire revive the ashes of
This Phœnix! yet the wonder would not be
So great as he was good, and wondered at
For that. His life's example was so true
A practique of religion's theory
That her divinity seemed rather the
Description than the instruction of his life.
And of his goodness was his virtuous son
A worthy imitator. So that on
These two Herculean pillars where their arms
Are placed there may be writ Non ultra.[156] For
Beyond their lives, as well for youth as age,
Nor young nor old, in merit or in name,
Shall e'er exceed their virtues or their fame.
[The third volley.
'Tis done. Thus fair accompliments make foul
Deeds gracious. Charlemont, come now when thou wilt,
I've buried under these two marble stones
Thy living hopes, and thy dead father's bones.
[Exeunt.
Enter Castabella mourning, to the monument of Charlemont.
Cast. O thou that knowest me justly Charlemont's,
Though in the forced possession of another,
Since from thine own free spirit we receive it
That our affections cannot be compelled
Though our actions may, be not displeased if on
The altar of his tomb I sacrifice
My tears. They are the jewels of my love
Dissolved into grief, and fall upon
His blasted Spring, as April dew upon
A sweet young blossom shaked before the time.
Enter Charlemont with a Servant.
Charl. Go see my trunks disposed of. I'll but walk
A turn or two i' th' church and follow you.
[Exit Servant.
O! here's the fatal monument of my
Dead father first presented to mine eye.
What's here?—"In memory of Charlemont?"
Some false relation has abused belief.
I am deluded. But I thank thee, Heaven.
For ever let me be deluded thus.
My Castabella mourning o'er my hearse?
Sweet Castabella, rise. I am not dead.
Cast. O Heaven defend me! [Falls in a swoon.
Charl. I—Beshrew my rash
And inconsiderate passion.—Castabella!
That could not think—my Castabella!—that
My sudden presence might affright her sense.—
I prithee, my affection, pardon me. [She rises.
Reduce thy understanding to thine eye.
Within this habit, which thy misinformed
Conceit takes only for a shape, live both
The soul and body of thy Charlemont.
Cast. I feel a substance warm, and soft, and moist,
Subject to the capacity of sense.[157]
Charl. Which spirits are not; for their essence is
Above the nature and the order of
Those elements whereof our senses are
Created. Touch my lip. Why turn'st thou from me?
Cast. Grief above griefs! That which should woe relieve
Wished and obtained, gives greater cause to grieve.
Charl. Can Castabella think it cause of grief
That the relation of my death prove false?
Cast. The presence of the person we affect,
Being hopeless to enjoy him, makes our grief
More passionate than if we saw him not.
Charl. Why not enjoy? Has absence changed thee.
Cast. Yes.
From maid to wife.
Charl. Art married?
Cast. O! I am.
Charl. Married?—Had not my mother been a woman,
I should protest against the chastity
Of all thy sex. How can the merchant or
The mariners absent whole years from wives
Experienced in the satisfaction of
Desire, promise themselves to find their sheets
Unspotted with adultery at their
Return, when you that never had the sense
Of actual temptation could not stay
A few short months?
Cast. O! do but hear me speak.
Charl. But thou wert wise, and did'st consider that
A soldier might be maimed, and so perhaps
Lose his ability to please thee.
Cast. No.
That weakness pleases me in him I have.
Charl. What, married to a man unable too?
O strange incontinence! Why, was thy blood
Increased to such a pleurisy of lust,[158]
That of necessity there must a vein
Be opened, though by one that had no skill
To do't?
Cast. Sir, I beseech you hear me.
Charl. Speak.
Cast. Heaven knows I am unguilty of this act.
Charl. Why? Wert thou forced to do't?
Cast. Heaven knows I was.
Charl. What villain did it?
Cast. Your uncle D'Amville.
And he that dispossessed my love of you
Hath disinherited you of possession.
Charl. Disinherited? wherein have I deserved
To be deprived of my dear father's love?
Cast. Both of his love and him. His soul's at rest;
But here your injured patience may behold
The signs of his lamented memory.
[Charlemont finds his Father's monument.
He's found it. When I took him for a ghost
I could endure the torment of my fear
More eas'ly than I can his sorrows hear. [Exit.
Charl. Of all men's griefs must mine be singular?
Without example? Here I met my grave.
And all men's woes are buried i' their graves
But mine. In mine my miseries are born,
I prithee, sorrow, leave a little room
In my confounded and tormented mind
For understanding to deliberate
The cause or author of this accident.—
A close advantage of my absence made
To dispossess me both of land and wife,
And all the profit does arise to him
By whom my absence was first moved and urged,
These circumstances, uncle, tell me you
Are the suspected author of those wrongs,
Whereof the lightest is more heavy than
The strongest patience can endure to bear. [Exit.
SCENE II.—An Apartment in D'Amville's Mansion.
Enter D'Amville, Sebastian and Languebeau.
D'Am. Now, sir, your business?
Sebas. My annuity.
D'Am. Not a denier.[159]