To meet Monimia unknown to me, And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease Cast. Prithee avoid a thing thou may'st repent. Pol. That is henceforward making leagues with you. Cast. Nay, if you're angry, Polydore, goodnight. [Exit. Pol. Good-night, Castalio, if you are in such haste. He little thinks I have overheard the appointment; But to his chamber's gone to wait a while, He soars above me, mount what height I can, Pretend to secrecy, cajole and flatter Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe; Go to my brother, he's in's chamber now, Dissemble with thy brother! that's one point. But do not leave him, till he's in his bed. And ask me what the maids talked of at nights. Just three soft strokes against the chamber door; 'But speak not the least word, for if you should, 'Tis surely heard, and we are both betrayed.' How I adore a mistress, that contrives With care to lay the business of her joys; One that has wit to charm the very soul, And give a double relish to delight! Blest heavens, 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. [Maid at the window.] Who's there? Pol. 'Tis I. Maid. My lord Castalio? Pol. The same. How does my love, my dear Monimia? Maid. Oh! opened. She wonders much at your unkind delay; Enter CASTALIO and Page. Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely morning: Pray let us hunt. Cast. Go, you're an idle prattler. I must to bed. Page. I'll wait upon your lordship, If you think fit, and sing you to repose. Go, Cast. No, my kind boy, the night is too far wasted; My senses too are quite disrobed of thought, Page. Doubt not, my lord. He has been al- You never heard the last new song I learned! ways kind To me; would often set me on his knee, Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy, It is the finest, prettiest song indeed, Of my lord and my lady, you know who, that were caught you. Cast. Why, wert thou instructed to attend me? Page. No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not; But I know what I know. Cast. What dost thou know? Death! what Page. Oh! I know who loves somebody. Cast. I will, my child. Page. It is my lady Momimia, look you; but don't you tell her I told you; she'll give me no more play-things then. I heard her say so, as she lay a-bed, man. Cast. 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 so look with her eyes; and her breasts did so lift up and down, I could have found in my heart to have beat them, for they made me ashamed. Cast. Hark! what's that noise? [Exit Page. Surely it was a noise! hist-only fancy; All the wild herds are in the coverts couched; Once more [Knocks again. Maid. [At the window.] Who's there, Muid, Who are you? What's your name? The lord Castalio has no business here. Cast. 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. Maid. Whoe'er you are, ye may repent this in haste, And bring her tidings from the State of Love; Cast. Or this will make me so. Maid. My lady's answer is, you may depart. Maid. Well, 'tis a fine cool evening; and, I hope, May cure the raging fever in your Good-night. blood. Cast. And farewell all that's just in women! This is contrived; a studied trick, to abuse My easy nature, and torment my mind. Sure now she's 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 wrongs; "Till when, be this detested place my bed, [Lies down. Where I will ruminate on women's ills, [Rises. Cast. Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto. 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 betrayed the capitol? A woman. Who lost Marc Antony the world? A woman. Who was the cause of a long ten years war, And laid at last oid 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 a while in Paradise they lay, But quickly woman longed to go astray; Some foolish, new adventure needs must prove, And the first devil she saw, she changed her love; To his temptations lewdly she inclined Her soul, and for an apple damned mankind! [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.- A Saloon. ACASTO solus. Was then my own) I thought I heard my son Castalio's voice; but it seemed low, and mournful; Under my window, too, I thought I heard it. My untoward fancy could not be deceived Acast. Blest be the morning, that has brought In every thing, and I will search the truth out. me health; A happy rest has softened pain away, I droop and sigh, I know not why. Dark dreams, To start, and at my feet my sons appeared, But 'twas the effect of my distempered blood: And, when the health's disturbed, the mind's unruly. Enter POLYDORE. Good-morning, Polydore. Pol. Heaven keep your lordship. Acast. Have you yet seen Castalio to-day? I cannot think all has gone well to-night; Enter MONIMIA. Already up, Monimia! you rose Mon. Whatever are my thoughts, my lord, By your example to correct their ills, not; Or if I would, you are so good, I could not. Though I'm deceived, or you're more fair to-day; For beauty's heightened in your cheeks, and all Your charms seem up, and ready in your eyes. Mon. The little share I have's so very mean, That it may easily admit addition; Though you, my lord, should most of all beware To give it too much praise, and make me proud. Acast. Proud of an old man's praises? no, Monimia ! But if my prayers can work thee any good, Mon. Noise! my good lord! Mon. Indeed, my lord, I don't remember any. Acast. You must, sure ! went you early to your | Assemble all in choirs, and with their notes Salute and welcome up the rising sun. There's no condition sure so cursed as mine! rest? Mon. About the wonted hour. Why this enquiry? [Aside. Acast. And went your maid to bed, too? I've seldom known her disobey my orders. I'H have enquiry made through all the house, [Exit ACASTO. Mon. I'll but dispatch some orders to my woman, Enter FLORELLA. And wait upon your lordship there. I wonder though he made such haste to leave me; Maid. Why? Mon. Methinks The scene's quite altered; I am not the same; SCENE II-A Chamber. Cast. Wished morning's come! And now upon And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks, The happy shepherds leave their homely huts, The beasts, that under the warm hedges slept, Their voice, and bid their fellow brutes good morrow ; The cheerful birds too, on the tops of trees, I'm married! 'Sdeath! I'm sped. How like a dog Looked Hercules, thus to a distaff chained! Enter MONIMIA and Maid. Mon. I come, I fly to my adored Castalio's arms, Cast. I am [Looking languishingly on him. Well satisfied, that thou art-Oh- Art thou not well, Castalio ? Come, lean Tis every where : it rages like a madness; I once was so, or I've most strangely dreamed. Cast. Whate'er thy dreams have been, Thy waking thoughts ne'er meant Castalio well. No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts! They're useless all. I'm not that pliant tool, That necessary utensil, you would make me; I know my charter better-I am man, Obstinate man; and will not be enslaved. Mon. You shall not fear't: indeed my nature's easy; I'll ever live your most obedient wife! Beyond your will: for that shall be my law; Cast. Nay, you shall not, madam; By yon bright heaven you shall not. All the day Mon. No more; Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence! Cast. Away ! last night, last night- Mon. O, heaven! And will you leave me thus ? help, help, Florella! Help me to hold this yet loved cruel man. Mon. Castalio! Oh! how often has he swore, Nature should change, the sun and stars grow dark, Ere he would falsify his vows to me! Maid. Unhappy day! Where's your new husband? Still that thought What! only answer me with tears? Castalio! Cruel, unkind Castalio! Is't not so? Mon. I cannot speak! grief flows so fast upon me, It choaks, and will not let me tell the cause. Cha. My Monimia, to my soul thou art dear ness. Why wilt thou not repose within my breast Mon. Oh! I dare not. Cha. I have no friend but thee. We must confide In one another. Two unhappy orphans, Mon. False as the wind, the waters or the Alas, we are, and when I see thee grieve, weather; Cruel as tigers o'er their trembling prey : [Exit FLORELLA. Enter CHAMONT. Cha. In tears, Monimia ! Mon. Whoe'er thou art, Leave me alone to my beloved despair. Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and then Cha. Yes, Monimia, if thou think'st Cha. Ha! Name me that name again! my soul's on fire Mon. Indeed, Chamont, There's nothing in it but the fault of nature; Cha. You use me ill, Monimia; Mon. Truly, I'm not to blame. Suppose I'm fond, Cha. Not, if I'd cause to think it was a friend. dealing? I ne'er concealed my soul from you before: farther; For every probing pains me to the heart. Methinks, it is a part of me, that suffers. Mon. Oh, shouldst thou know the cause of my Thou wouldst despise the abject, lost Monimia; me; No more would praise this hated beauty: but, Cha. Why wilt thou rack My soul so long, Monimia? Ease me quickly Mon. But when I have told you, will you keep Within its bounds? Will you not do some rash Has he already wasted all his love? With expectation of a horrid tale. Mon. I fear he'll kill me. Mon. Indeed I do; he's strangely cruel to me; Cha. 'Tis sign there's danger in't, and must be In thousand kisses, tender sighs and joys, probed. Not to be thought again, the night was wasted; |