Cham. But Castalio?
Mon. Still will you cross the line of my discourse?
Yes, I confess that he has won my soul
By generous 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 preserved
Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted?
Mon. When I'm unchaste, may Heaven reject my prayers!
Or, more to make me wretched, may you know it!
Cham. Oh, then, Monimia, art thou dearer to me
Than all the comforts ever yet blessed 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 soothe 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 wronged me,
In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage.
He comes; and now, for once, O Love, stand neuter,
Whilst a hard part's performed! for I must tempt,
Wound his soft nature, though my heart aches for it. [Exit.
Re-enter Castalio.