Cast. 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.
Flor. My lady's answer is, you may depart;
She says she knows you: you are Polydore,
Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day,
To affront and do her violence again.
Cast. I'll not believe't.
Flor. You may, sir.
Cast. Curses blast thee!
Flor. Well, 'tis a fine cool evening; and I hope
May cure the raging fever in your blood.
Good-night. [Retires.
Cast. And farewell all that's just in woman!
This is contrived, a studied trick to abuse
My easy nature, and torment my mind;
Sure now she has bound me fast, and means to lord it,
To rein me hard, and ride me at her will,
Till by degrees she shape me into fool
For all her future uses. Death and torment!
'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it.
Oh, I could grow even wild, and tear my hair
'Tis well, Monimia, that thy empire's short
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 the 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.
Cast. Who's there?