| Enter Polydore and Page. |
| |
| 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 rag'd, Castalio grew disturb'd: |
| Each thought the other wrong'd; yet both so haughty, |
| They scorn'd submission, though love all the while |
| The rebel play'd, and scarce could be contain'd. |
| |
| 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 sigh'd and blush'd; Castalio swore; |
| As you, my lord, I well remember, did |
| To my young sister, in the orange grove, |
| When I was first preferr'd to be your page. |
| |
| Pol. Boy, go to your chamber, and prepare your lute. |
| [exit Page. |
| Happy Castalio! now, by my great soul, |
| My ambitious soul, that languishes to 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 refus'd? |
| Has he supplanted me by some foul play? |
| Traduc'd my honour? death! he durst not do't. |
| It must be so: we parted, and he met her, |
| Half to compliance brought by me; surpris'd |
| Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite. |
| So poachers pick up tir'd game, |
| While the fair hunter's cheated of his prey. |
| Boy! |
| |
| Enter a Servant. |
| |
| Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er told! |
| |
| Pol. The matter? |
| |
| Serv. Oh! your father, my good master, |
| As with his guests he sat in mirth rais'd high, |
| And chas'd the goblet round the joyful board, |
| A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his limbs; |
| His eyes distorted grew, his visage pale, |
| His speech forsook him, life itself seem'd fled, |
| And all his friends are waiting now about him. |
| |
| Enter Acasto and Attendants. |
| |
| Acas. Support me, give me air, I'll yet recover. |
| '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 search'd, as you commanded, all the house! |
| He and Monimia are not to be found. |
| |
| Acas. 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 prepar'd to meet him; and, methinks, |
| Would live and die with all my friends about me. |
| |
| Enter Castalio. |
| |
| Cas. Angels preserve my dearest father's life! |
| Oh! may he live till time itself decay, |
| Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him! |
| |
| Acas. Thank you, Castalio: give me both your hands. |
| So now, methinks, |
| I appear as great as Hercules himself, |
| Supported by the pillars he has rais'd. |
| |
| Enter Serina. |
| |
| Ser. My father! |
| |
| Acas. 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. |
| |
| Acas. Rise to my arms, and thy kind pray'rs are answer'd. |
| For thou'rt a wondrous extract of all goodness; |
| Born for my joy, and no pain's felt when near thee. |
| Chamont! |
| |
| Enter Chamont. |
| |
| Cham. My lord, may't prove not an unlucky omen! |
| Many I see are waiting round about you, |
| And I am come to ask a blessing too. |
| |
| Acas. May'st thou be happy! |
| |
| Cham. Where? |
| |
| Acas. In all thy wishes. |
| |
| Cham. Confirm me so, and make this fair one mine: |
| I am unpractis'd in the trade of courtship, |
| And know not how to deal love out with art: |
| Onsets in love seem best like those in war, |
| Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force; |
| So I would open my whole heart at once, |
| And pour out the abundance of my soul. |
| |
| Acas. What says Serina? canst thou love a soldier? |
| One born to honour, and to honour bred? |
| One that has learn'd to treat e'en foes with kindness, |
| To wrong no good man's fame, nor praise himself? |
| |
| Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's ally'd 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! |
| Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest, |
| Praise the kind gods, and wonder at his virtues. |
| |
| Acas. Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and possess her, |
| And, as my son, a third of all my fortune |
| Shall be thy lot. |
| Chamont, you told me of some doubts that press'd you: |
| Are you yet satisfy'd that I'm your friend? |
| |
| Cham. My lord, I would not lose that satisfaction, |
| 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. |
| |
| Acas. I thank you. |
| My friends, 'tis late: |
| Now my disorder seems all past and over, |
| And I, methinks, begin to feel new health. |
| |
| Cas. Would you but rest, it might restore you quite. |
| |
| Acas. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour weakness. |
| Good night, my friends! Heaven guard you all! Good night! |
| To-morrow early we'll salute the day, |
| Find out new pleasures, and renew lost time. |
| [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 t'will 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 dependance on this family? |
| |
| Chap. I have not thought it so, because my time's |
| Spent pleasantly. My lord's not haughty nor imperious, |
| Nor I gravely whimsical; he has good nature. |
| 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, |
| So meet with respect, and am not the jest of the family. |
| |
| Cham. 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. |
| |
| Cham. Why, didst thou love him? |
| |
| Chap. Ev'ry body lov'd 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. |
| |
| Chap. Either he loves her, or he much has wrong'd her. |
| |
| Cham. How wrong'd her? have a care; for this may lay |
| A scene of mischief to undo us all. |
| But tell me, wrong'd her, saidst thou? |
| |
| Chap. Ay, sir, wrong'd her. |
| |
| Cham. This is a secret worth a monarch's fortune: |
| What shall I give thee for't? thou dear physician |
| Of 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, |
| May this good sword ne'er do me right in battle! |
| May I ne'er know that blessed peace of mind, |
| That dwells in good and pious men like thee! |
| |
| Chap. I see your temper's mov'd and I will trust you. |
| |
| 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. I, by their own appointment, met them there, |
| Receiv'd their marriage vows, and join'd their hands. |
| |
| 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, |
| I do not like this marriage, |
| Huddled i'the dark, and done at too much venture; |
| The business looks with an unlucky face. |
| Keep still the secret: for it ne'er shall 'scape me, |
| Not e'en to them, the new-match'd pair. Farewel! |
| Believe the truth, and know me for thy friend.[exeunt. |
| |
| Re-enter Castalio, with Monimia. |
| |
| Cas. Young Chamont and the chaplain! sure 'tis they! |
| No matter what's contriv'd, or who consulted, |
| Since my Monimia's mine; though this sad look |
| Seems no good boding omen to our bliss; |
| Else, pr'ythee, tell me why that look cast down, |
| Why that sad sigh, as if thy heart was breaking? |
| |
| Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we've done; |
| The heavenly powers were sure displeas'd to-day; |
| For, at the ceremony as we stood, |
| And as your hand was kindly join'd with mine, |
| As the good priest pronounc'd the sacred words, |
| Passion grew big, and I could not forbear: |
| Tears drown'd my eyes, and trembling seiz'd my soul. |
| What should that mean? |
| |
| Cas. O, thou art tender all! |
| Gentle and kind as sympathising nature! |
| |
| Re-enter Polydore, unobserved. |
| |
| 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. |
| |
| Mon. 'Twill be impossible: |
| You know your father's chamber's next to mine, |
| And the least noise will certainly alarm him. |
| |
| Cas. 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 chamber door, |
| 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 |
| Shall be as silent as the ecstatic bliss |
| Of souls, that by intelligence converse. |
| Away, my love! first take this kiss. Now, haste: |
| I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute past. |
| My brother wand'ring too so late this way![exit Mon. |
| |
| Pol. Castalio! |
| |
| Cas. My Polydore, how dost thou? |
| How does our father? is he well recover'd? |
| |
| Pol. I left him happily repos'd to rest: |
| He's still as gay as if his life was young. |
| But how does fair Monimia? |
| |
| Cas. Doubtless, well: |
| A cruel beauty, with her conquest pleas'd, |
| 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? |
| |
| Cas. She's not woman else: |
| Though I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping; |
| We've in a barren desart 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, |
| And would enjoin thee, Polydore—— |
| |
| 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. |
| No, by my stars, I'll chase her till she yields |
| To me, or meets her rescue in another. |
| |
| Cas. But I have wond'rous reasons on my side, |
| That would persuade thee, were they known. |
| |
| Pol. Then speak 'em: |
| What are they? Came ye to her window here |
| To learn 'em now? Castalio, have a care; |
| Use honest dealing with a friend and brother. |
| Believe me, I'm not with my love so blinded, |
| But can discern your purpose to abuse me. |
| Quit your pretences to her. |
| You say you've reasons: why are they conceal'd? |
| |
| Cas. To-morrow I may tell you. |
| |
| Pol. Why not now? |
| |
| Cas. It is a matter of such consequence, |
| As I must well consult ere I reveal. |
| But pr'ythee cease to think I would abuse thee, |
| Till more be known. |
| |
| Pol. When you, Castalio, cease |
| To meet Monimia unknown to me, |
| And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease |
| To think Castalio faithless to his friend. |
| Did I not see you part this very moment? |
| |
| Cas. It seems you've watch'd me, then? |
| |
| Pol. I scorn the office. |
| |
| Cas. Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent. |
| |
| Pol. That is, henceforward making league with you. |
| |
| Cas. Nay, if ye're angry, Polydore, good night.[exit. |
| |
| Pol. Good night, Castalio, if ye're in such haste. |
| He little thinks I've overheard th' appointment: |
| But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile, |
| Then come and take possession of my love. |
| This is the utmost point of all my hopes; |
| Or now she must, or never can, be mine. |
| Oh, for a means now how to counterplot, |
| And disappoint this happy elder brother |
| In every thing we do or undertake, |
| He soars above me, mount what height I can, |
| And keeps the start he got of me in birth. |
| Cordelio! |
| |
| Re-enter Page. |
| |
| Page. My lord! |
| |
| Pol. Come hither, boy! |
| Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face, |
| And may'st in time expect preferment. Canst thou |
| Pretend to secresy, cajole and flatter |
| Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures? |
| |
| Page. My lord, I could do any thing for you, |
| And ever be a very faithful boy. |
| Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe; |
| Be it to run, or watch, or to convey |
| A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom: |
| At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn. |
| |
| Pol. 'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be employ'd. |
| Go to my brother, he's in his chamber now, |
| Undressing, and preparing for his rest; |
| Find out some means to keep him up awhile: |
| Tell him a pretty story, that may please |
| His ear; invent a tale, no matter what: |
| If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone |
| To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure, |
| Whether he'll hunt to-morrow. |
| But do not leave him till he's in his bed; |
| Or, if he chance to walk again this way, |
| Follow, and do not quit him, but seem fond |
| To do him little offices of service. |
| Perhaps at last it may offend him; then |
| Retire, and wait till I come in. Away! |
| Succeed in this, and be employ'd again. |
| |
| Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind |
| To me; would often set me on his knee, |
| Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy, |
| And ask me what the maids talk'd of at nights. |
| |
| Pol. Run quickly then, and prosp'rous be thy wishes. |
| Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief.[exit Page. |
| I heard the sign she order'd him to give. |
| "Just three soft strokes against the chamber door; |
| But speak not the least word, for, if you should, |
| It's surely heard, and we are both betray'd." |
| Blest heav'ns, assist me but in this dear hour, |
| And, my kind stars, be but propitious now, |
| Dispose of me hereafter as you please. |
| Monimia! Monimia![gives the sign. |
| |
| Flo. [At the window.] Who's there? |
| |
| Pol. 'Tis I. |
| |
| Flo. My lord Castalio? |
| |
| Pol. The same. |
| How does my love, my dear Monimia? |
| |
| Flo. Oh! |
| She wonders much at your unkind delay; |
| You've staid so long, that at each little noise |
| The wind but makes, she asks if you are coming. |
| |
| Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be open'd. |
| [Florella withdraws. |
| Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell |
| Thyself strange stories of a promis'd bliss![exit. |
| |
| Re-enter Castalio and Page. |
| |
| Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely morning: |
| Pray, let us hunt. |
| |
| Cas. Go, you're an idle prattler: |
| I'll stay at home to-morrow; if your lord |
| Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go, leave me: |
| I must to bed. |
| |
| Page. I'll wait upon your lordship, |
| If you think fit, and sing you to repose. |
| |
| Cas. No, my kind boy. |
| Good night: commend me to my brother. |
| |
| Page. Oh! |
| You never heard the last new song I learn'd; |
| It is the finest, prettiest, song indeed, |
| Of my lord and my lady, you know who, that were caught |
| Together, you know where. My lord, indeed it is. |
| |
| Cas. You must be whipp'd, youngster, |
| if you get such songs as those are. |
| What means this boy's impertinence to-night?[aside. |
| |
| Page. Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear lord? |
| |
| Cas. Psalms, child, psalms. |
| |
| Page. O dear me! boys that go to school learn psalms; |
| But pages, that are better bred, sing lampoons. |
| |
| Cas. Well, leave me; I'm weary. |
| |
| Page. Indeed, my lord, I can't abide to leave you. |
| |
| Cas. Why, wert thou instructed to attend me? |
| |
| Page. No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not. |
| But I know what I know. |
| |
| Cas. What dost thou know?——'Sdeath! what can all this mean? |
| [aside. |
| |
| Page. Oh! I know who loves somebody. |
| |
| Cas. What's that to me, boy? |
| |
| Page. Nay, I know who loves you too. |
| |
| Cas. That's a wonder! pr'ythee, tell it me. |
| |
| Page. 'Tis—'tis—I know who—but will |
| You give me the horse, then? |
| |
| 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 playthings then. I heard her say |
| so, as she lay abed, man. |
| |
| Cas. Talk'd she of me when in her bed, Cordelio? |
| |
| Page. Yes; and I sung her the song you made too; and she did |
| so sigh, and look with her eyes! |
| |
| Cas. Hark! what's that noise? |
| Take this; be gone, and leave me. |
| You knave, you little flatterer, get you gone.[ex. Page. |
| Surely it was a noise, hist!——only fancy; |
| For all is hush'd, as nature were retir'd. |
| 'Tis now, that, guided by my love, I go |
| To take possession of Monimia's arms. |
| Sure Polydore's by this time gone to bed.[knocks. |
| She hears me not? sure, she already sleeps! |
| Her wishes could not brook so long delay, |
| And her poor heart has beat itself to rest.[knocks. |
| Once more—— |
| |
| Flo. [at the window] Who's there, |
| That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest? |
| |
| Cas. 'Tis I. |
| |
| Flo. Who are you? what's your name? |
| |
| Cas. Suppose the lord Castalio. |
| |
| Flo. I know you not. |
| 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. |
| |
| Flo. Sure the man's mad! |
| |
| Cas. Or this will make me so. |
| Obey me, or, by all the wrongs I suffer, |
| I'll scale the window and come in by force, |
| Let the sad consequence be what it will! |
| This creature's trifling folly makes me mad! |
| |
| Flo. My lady's answer is, you may depart. |
| She says she knows you: you are Polydore, |
| Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day, |
| T'affront and do her violence again. |
| |
| Cas. I'll not believe't. |
| |
| Flo. You may, sir. |
| |
| Cas. Curses blast thee! |
| |
| Flo. Well, 'tis a fine cool ev'ning! and I hope |
| May cure the raging fever in your blood! |
| Good night. |
| |
| Cas. And farewell all that's just in woman! |
| This is contriv'd, a study'd trick, to abuse |
| My easy nature, and torment my mind! |
| 'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it! |
| Let but to-morrow, but to-morrow, come, |
| And try if all thy arts appease my wrong; |
| Till when, be this detested place my bed;[lies down. |
| Where I will ruminate on woman's ills, |
| Laugh at myself, and curse th' inconstant sex. |
| Faithless Monimia! O Monimia! |
| |
| Enter Ernesto. |
| |
| Ern. Either |
| My sense has been deluded, or this way |
| I heard the sound of sorrow; 'tis late night, |
| And none, whose mind's at peace, would wander now. |
| |
| Cas. Who's there? |
| |
| Ern. Castalio!—My lord, why in this posture, |
| Stretch'd on the ground? your honest, true, old servant, |
| Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus. |
| Rise, I beseech you. |
| |
| Cas. Oh, leave me to my folly. |
| |
| Ern. I can't leave you, |
| And not the reason know of your disorders. |
| Remember how, when young, I in my arms |
| Have often borne you, pleas'd you in your pleasures, |
| And sought an early share in your affection. |
| Do not discard me now, but let me serve you. |
| |
| Cas. Thou canst not serve me. |
| |
| Ern. Why? |
| |
| Cas. Because my thoughts |
| Are full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past them. |
| |
| Ern. I hate the sex. |
| |
| Cas. Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto![rises. |
| I'd leave the world for him that hates a woman! |
| Woman, the fountain of all human frailty! |
| What mighty ills have not been done by woman? |
| 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, |
| And laid at last old Troy in ashes?—Woman! |
| Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman! |
| Woman, to man first as a blessing given; |
| When innocence and love were in their prime. |
| Happy awhile in Paradise they lay; |
| But quickly woman long'd to go astray: |
| Some foolish new adventure needs must prove, |
| And the first devil she saw, she chang'd her love: |
| To his temptations lewdly she inclin'd |
| Her soul, and for an apple damn'd mankind.[exeunt. |
| Enter Castalio. |
| |
| Cas. Wish'd morning's come! And now upon the plains, |
| And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks, |
| The happy shepherds leave their homely huts, |
| And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day. |
| There's no condition sure so curs'd as mine—— |
| Monimia! O Monimia! |
| |
| Enter Monimia and Florella. |
| |
| Mon. I come! |
| I fly to my ador'd Castalio's arms, |
| My wishes' lord. May every morn begin |
| Like this; and, with our days, our loves renew! |
| |
| Cas. Oh—— |
| |
| Mon. Art thou not well, Castalio? Come, lean |
| Upon my breast, and tell me where's thy pain. |
| |
| Cas. 'Tis here—'tis in my head—'tis in my heart— |
| 'Tis every where: it rages like a madness, |
| And I most wonder how my reason holds. |
| No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts: |
| They're useless all—I'm not that pliant tool; |
| I know my charter better——I am man, |
| Obstinate man, and will not be enslav'd! |
| |
| Mon. You shall not fear't; indeed, my nature's easy: |
| I'll ever live your most obedient wife! |
| Nor ever any privilege pretend |
| Beyond your will; for that shall be my law;— |
| Indeed, I will not. |
| |
| Cas. Nay, you shall not, madam; |
| By yon bright heaven, you shall not: all the day |
| I'll play the tyrant, and at night forsake thee; |
| Nay, if I've any too, thou shalt be made |
| Subservient to my looser pleasures; |
| For thou hast wrong'd Castalio. |
| |
| 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!—— |
| |
| Mon. It was our wedding night. |
| |
| Cas. No more!—Forget it! |
| |
| Mon. Why! do you then repent? |
| |
| Cas. I do. |
| |
| Mon. O heaven! |
| And will you leave me thus?—Help! help! Florella! |
| [Castalio drags her to the door, breaks from her, and exit. |
| |
| Help me to hold this yet lov'd, cruel man! |
| Castalio!—Oh! how often has he sworn, |
| Nature should change—the sun and stars grow dark, |
| Ere he would falsify his vows to me! |
| Make haste, confusion, then! Sun, lose thy light! |
| And, stars, drop dead with sorrow to the earth, |
| For my Castalio's false! |
| False as the wind, the waters, or the weather! |
| Cruel as tigers o'er their trembling prey! |
| I feel him in my breast; he tears my heart, |
| And at each sigh he drinks the gushing blood! |
| Must I be long in pain? |
| |
| Enter Chamont. |
| |
| Cham. In tears, Monimia! |
| |
| Mon. Whoe'er thou art, |
| Leave me alone to my belov'd despair! |
| |
| Cham. Lift up thy eyes, and see who comes to cheer thee! |
| Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and then |
| See if my soul has rest, till thou hast justice. |
| |
| Mon. My brother! |
| |
| Cham. Yes, Monimia, if thou think'st |
| That I deserve the name, I am thy brother. |
| |
| 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: |
| I'm often thus seiz'd suddenly with grief, |
| I know not why. |
| |
| Cham. You use me ill, Monimia; |
| And I might think, with justice, most severely |
| Of this unfaithful dealing with your brother. |
| |
| Mon. Truly I'm not to blame. Suppose I'm fond, |
| And grieve for what as much may please another? |
| Should 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:— |
| Cruel, unkind, Castalio!—Is't not so? |
| |
| Mon. I cannot speak;—grief flows so fast upon me, |
| 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 |
| The anguish that torments thee? |
| |
| Mon. Oh! I dare not. |
| |
| Cham. I have no friend but thee. We must confide |
| 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 your fury |
| 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? |
| 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? |
| |
| Cham. What? |
| |
| Mon. I fear, he'll kill me! |
| |
| Cham. Ha! |
| |
| 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. |
| Just as we met, and I, with open arms, |
| Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes, |
| Oh then—— |
| |
| 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? |
| |
| Mon. He did. |
| |
| Cham. What! throw thee from him? |
| |
| Mon. Yes, indeed, he did! |
| |
| Cham. So may this arm |
| Throw him to th' earth, like a dead dog despis'd. |
| 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 conceal'd? |
| 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. |
| |
| Acas. Sure some ill fate is tow'rds me; in my house |
| I only meet with oddness and disorder. |
| Just this very moment |
| I met Castalio too—— |
| |
| Cham. Then you met a villain. |
| |
| Acas. Ha! |
| |
| 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, |
| Which hinders me to rush upon thy throat, |
| And tear the root up of that cursed bramble! |
| |
| Acas. Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old friend |
| Was ne'er thy father! Nothing of him's in thee! |
| What have I done, in my unhappy age, |
| To be thus us'd? I scorn to upbraid thee, boy! |
| But I could put thee in remembrance—— |
| |
| Cham. Do. |
| |
| Acas. I scorn it. |
| |
| Cham. No, I'll calmly 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? |
| |
| Acas. Why dost thou ask it? |
| |
| Cham. 'Twas the rude o'erflowing |
| Of too much passion—Pray, my lord, forgive me.[kneels. |
| |
| Acas. Mock me not, youth! I can revenge a wrong. |
| |
| Cham. I know it well—but for this thought of mine, |
| Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it. |
| |
| Acas. I will; but henceforth pr'ythee be more kind. |
| Whence came the cause?[raises him. |
| |
| Cham. Indeed, I've been to blame; |
| For you've been my father— |
| You've been her father too.[takes Monimia's hand. |
| |
| Acas. Forbear the prologue, |
| And let me know the substance of thy tale. |
| |
| Cham. You took her up, a little tender flower, |
| Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost |
| Had nipp'd; and with a careful, loving hand, |
| Transplanted her into your own fair garden, |
| Where the sun always shines: there long she flourish'd; |
| Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye; |
| Till at the last a cruel spoiler came, |
| Cropp'd this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness, |
| Then cast it like a loathsome weed away. |
| |
| 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 sense. |
| But honesty |
| 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! |
| |
| Cham. Yes; |
| 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 blest heaven, there's not a lord |
| But might be proud to take her to his heart. |
| |
| Acas. I'll not deny't. |
| |
| Cham. You dare not; by the gods, |
| You dare not. All your family combin'd |
| In one damn'd falsehood, to outdo Castalio, |
| Dare not deny't. |
| |
| Acas. How has Castalio wrong'd her? |
| |
| Cham. Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wrong'd: |
| 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't.—Hark you, my lord, your son Castalio, |
| Take him to your closet, and there teach him manners. |
| |
| Acas. You shall have justice. |
| |
| Cham. Nay, I will have justice! |
| Who'll sleep in safety that has done me wrong? |
| My lord, I'll not disturb you to repeat |
| The cause of this; I beg you (to preserve |
| Your house's honour) ask it of Castalio.[exit. |
| |
| Acas. Farewell, proud boy.— |
| Monimia! |
| |
| Mon. My lord. |
| |
| Acas. You are my daughter. |
| |
| Mon. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me. |
| |
| Acas. When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father.[exit. |
| |
| Mon. Now I'm undone for ever! Who on earth |
| Is there so wretched as Monimia? |
| First by Castalio cruelly forsaken; |
| I've lost Acasto now: his parting frowns |
| May well instruct me, rage is in his heart. |
| I shall be next abandon'd to my fortune, |
| Thrust out, a naked wand'rer to the world, |
| And branded for the mischievous Monimia! |
| What will become of me? My cruel brother |
| Is framing mischiefs, too, for aught I know, |
| 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'd rather lose for ever my Castalio, |
| My dear, unkind, Castalio.[sits down. |
| |
| Enter Polydore. |
| |
| Pol. Monimia weeping! |
| 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 e'er 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 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 I curs'd the sound. |
| Wilt thou be sworn, my love? wilt thou be ne'er |
| Unkind again? |
| |
| Mon. Banish such fruitless hopes! |
| Have you sworn constancy to my undoing? |
| Will you be ne'er my friend again? |
| |
| Pol. What means my love? |
| |
| Mon. What meant my lord? |
| Last night? |
| |
| Pol. Is that a question now to be demanded? |
| |
| Mon. Was it well done |
| T' assault my lodging at the dead of night, |
| And threaten me if I deny'd admittance—— |
| You said you were Castalio. |
| |
| Pol. By those eyes, |
| It was the same: I spent my time much better. |
| |
| Mon. Ha!—have a care! |
| |
| Pol. Where is the danger near me? |
| |
| Mon. I fear you're on a rock will wreck your quiet, |
| And drown your soul in wretchedness for ever. |
| A thousand horrid thoughts crowd on my memory. |
| Will you be kind, and answer me one question? |
| |
| Pol. I'd trust thee with my life; on that soft bosom |
| Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart, |
| Till I had nothing in it left but love. |
| |
| Mon. Nay, I'll conjure you, by the gods and angels, |
| By the honour of your name, that's most concern'd, |
| To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly, |
| Where did you rest last night? |
| |
| Pol. Within thy arms. |
| |
| Mon. 'Tis done.[faints. |
| |
| 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 surpris'd anon; |
| And consequently all must be betrayed. |
| Monimia!—she breathes!—Monimia! |
| |
| Mon. Well—— |
| Let mischiefs multiply! let every hour |
| Of my loath'd life yield me increase of horror! |
| O let the sun, to these unhappy eyes, |
| Ne'er shine again, but be eclips'd 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. O Polydore! if all |
| The friendship e'er you vow'd to good Castalio |
| Be not a falsehood; if you ever lov'd |
| Your brother, you've 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? |
| |
| Mon. I am Castalio's wife! |
| |
| Pol. His marry'd, wedded, wife? |
| |
| Mon. Yesterday's sun |
| Saw it perform'd! |
| |
| Pol. My brother's wife? |
| |
| Mon. As surely as we both |
| Must taste of misery, that guilt is thine. |
| |
| Pol. Oh! thou may'st 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 sin upon my wretched head! |
| Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother, |
| And bring pollution to his arms?—Curs'd thought! |
| Oh! when shall I be mad indeed![exit. |
| |
| Pol. Then thus I'll go;— |
| Full of my guilt, distracted where to roam: |
| I'll find some place where adders nest in winter, |
| Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hang |
| Like gums against the walls: there I'll inhabit, |
| And live up to the height of desperation. |
| Desire shall languish like a with'ring flower, |
| Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms, |
| And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms.[exit. |