Cham. When our dear parents died, they died together,
One fate surprised them, and one grave received them:
My father with his dying breath bequeathed
Her to my love: my mother, as she lay
Languishing by him, called me to her side,
Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embraced me;
Then pressed me close, and as she observed my tears,
Kissed them away: said she, "Chamont, my son,
By this, and all the love I ever showed thee,
Be careful of Monimia; watch her youth;
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour;
Perhaps kind Heaven may raise some friend": then sighed,
Kissed me again, so blessed us, and expired.
Pardon my grief.
Acast. It speaks an honest nature.
Cham. The friend Heaven raised was you; you took her up,
An infant, to the desert world exposed,
And proved another parent.
Acast. I've not wronged her!
Cham. Far be it from my fears.
Acast. Then why this argument?
Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it.
Acast. Go on.
Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly:
Good offices claim gratitude; and pride,
Where power is wanting, will usurp a little,
And make us, rather than be thought behind-hand,
Pay over-price.
Acast. I cannot guess your drift:
Distrust you me?