Cast. Have I been in a dream, then, all this As might have moved the hardest heart; why while?

Mon. Oh, were it possible, that we could drown Readst thou not something in my face, that In dark oblivion but a few past hours, We might be happy.

Pol. Never.

Cast. Oh! think a little what thy heart is do-
ing:

How, from our infancy, we, hand in hand,
Have trod the path of life in love together;
One bed hath held us, and the same desires,
The same aversions, still employed our thoughts:
When e'er had I a friend, that was not Polydore's?
Or Polydore a foe, that was not mine?

Even in the womb we embraced; and wilt thou

now,

For the first fault, abandon and forsake me,
Leave me, amidst afflictions, to myself,
Plunged in the gulf of grief, and none to help me?
Pol. Go to Monimia, in her arms thoul't find
Repose; she has the art of healing sorrows.
Cast. What arts?

Pol. Blind wretch! thou husband! there is a
question!

Go to her fulsome bed, and wallow there:
'Till some hot ruffian, full of lust and wine,
Come storm thee out, and shew thee what's thy
bargain.

Cast. Hold there, I charge thee.

Pol. Is she not a

Cast. Whore?

Pol. Ay, whore; I think that word needs no
explaining.

Cast. Alas! I can forgive even this, to thee!
But let me tell thee, Polydore, I am grieved
To find thee guilty of such low revenge,

To wrong that virtue, which thou couldst not

Cast. Do, draw thy sword, and thrust it through my heart;

There is no joy in life, if thou art lost.

A base-born villain!

Pol. Yes; thou never cam'st

From old Acasto's loins; the midwife put
A cheat upon my mother, and instead

Of a true brother, in a cradle by me,

Mon. I am here, who calls me?
Methought I heard a voice,

Sweet as the shepherd's pipe upon the mountains,
When all his little flock's at feed before him.
But what means this? Here's blood.

Cast. Ay, brother's blood.

Art thou prepared for everlasting pains?
Pol. Oh, let me charge thee, by the eternal
justice,

Hurt not her tender life!

Cast. Not kill her? Rack me,

Ye powers above, with all your choicest torments,
Horror of mind, and pains yet uninvented,
If I not practise cruelty upon her,

And wreak revenge some way yet never known.
Mon. That task myself have finished; I shall

die

Before we part; I have drank a healing draught For all my cares, and never more shall wrong thee.

Pol. O she's innocent!

Cast. Tell me that story,

And thou wilt make a wretch of me indeed.

Pol. Hadst thou, Castalio, used me like a friend,

This ne'er had happened; hadst thou let me know

Placed some coarse peasant's cub, and thou art he. Thy marriage, we had all now met in joy;

Cust. Thou art my brother still.

Pol. Thou liest.

Cast. Nay then

Yet I am calm.

Pol. A coward's always so.

Cast. Ah!-ah-that stings home-Coward!
Pol. Ay, base-born coward! villain!

Cast. This to thy heart, then, though my mother
bore thee.

tune;

None but myself could e'er have been so cursed! | But here remain, till my heart burst with sobbing. My fatal love, alas! has ruined thee,

Thou fairest, goodliest frame the gods e'er made,
Or ever human eyes and hearts adored.
I've murdered too my brother.

Why wouldst thou study ways to damn me far-
ther,

And force the sin of parricide upon me? Pol. 'Twas my own fault, and thou art cent;

Cast. Vanish, I charge thee, or

[Draws a dagger.

Cha. Thou canst not kill me;

That would be kindness, and against thy nature. Acast. What means Castalio? Sure thou wilt not pull

More sorrows on thy aged father's head. inno-Tell me, I beg you, tell me the sad cause Of all this ruin.

Forgive the barbarous trespass of my tongue;
'Twas a hard violence: I could have died

With love of thee, even when I used thee worst;
Nay, at each word, that my distraction uttered,
My heart recoiled, and 'twas half death to speak
them.

Mon. Now, my Castalio, the most dear of men,
Wilt thou receive pollution to thy bosom,
And close the eyes of one, that has betrayed thee?
Cast. Oh, I am the unhappy wretch, whose

cursed fate

Has weighed thee down into destruction with him.
Why then, thus kind to me?

Mon. When I am laid low in the grave, and
quite forgotten,

Mayst thou be happy in a fairer bride;
But none can ever love thee like Monimia.
When I am dead, as presently I shall be,
(For the grim tyrant grasps my heart already)
Speak well of me; and, if thou find ill tongues
Too busy with my fame, don't hear me wronged;
Twill be a noble justice to the memory
Of a poor wretch, once honoured with thy love.
How my head swims! 'tis very dark. Good-night.
[Dies.
Cast. If I survive thee-what a thought was
that?

Thank Heaven, I go prepared against that curse.
Enter CHAMONT, disarmed and seized by ACASTO
and Servants.

|

Pol. That must be my task:
But 'tis too long for one in pain to tell;
You'll in my closet find the story written
Of all our woes. Castalio is innocent,
And so is Monimia; only I am to blame.
Enquire no farther.

East. Thou, unkind Chamont,
Unjustly hast pursued me with thy hate,
And sought the life of him, that never wronged
thee:

Now, if thou wilt embrace a nobler vengeance,
Come, join with me, and curse-
Cha. What?

Cast. First, thyself,

As I do, and the hour, that gave thee birth:
Confusion and disorder seize the world,
To spoil all trust and converse amongst men!
'Twixt families engender endless feuds,
In countries needless fears, in cities factions,
In states rebellion, and in churches schism!
Till all things move against the course of nature,
Till form's dissolved, the chain of causes broken,
And the original of being lost!

Acast. Have patience.

Cast. Patience! preach it to the winds,
The roaring seas, or raging fires! the knaves
That teach it, laugh at ye, when ye believe them.
Strip me of all the common needs of life,
Scald me with leprosy, let friends forsake me,
I'll bear it all; but cursed to the degree
That I am now, 'tis this must give me patience :

Cha. Gape earth, and swallow me to quick de- Thus I find rest, and shall complain no more.

struction,

If I forgive your house! if I not live

An everlasting plague to thee, Acasto,

And all thy race. Ye've overpowered me now; But hear me, Heaven!-Ah, here's a scene of death!

My sister, my Monimia breathless! Now,

Ye

powers above, if ye have justice, strike,

Strike bolts through me, and through the cursed
Castalio!

Acast. My Polydore!

Pol. Who calls?

Pol. Castalio! oh!
Cast. I come.

[Stabs himself.

Chamont, to thee my birth-right I bequeath;
Comfort my mourning father, heal his griefs,

[Acasto faints into the arms of a servant.
For I perceive they fall with weight upon him.
And, for Monimia's sake, whom thou wilt find
I never wronged, be kind to poor Serina.
Now, all I beg, is, lay me in one grave
Thus with my love. Farewell. I now am-no-
thing.
[Dies.
Cho. Take care of good Acasto, whilst I go
To search the means, by which the fates have
plagued us.

'Tis thus that Heaven its empire does maintain; It may afflict, but man must not complain.

[Exeunt omnes.

SCENE I-A Street in Venice.

ACT I.

Enter PRIULI and JAFFIER. Pri. No more! I'll hear no more! Begone and leave me.

Jaf. Not hear me! By my suffering but you shall!

My lord, my lord! I'm not that abject wretch, You think me. Patience! where's the distance throws

Me back so far, but I may boldly speak

And urge its baseness) when you first came home
From travel, with such hopes as made you look-
ed on,

By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation,
Pleased with your growing virtue, I received you;
Courted, and sought to raise you to your merits:
My house, my table, nay, my fortune too,
My very self was yours; you might have used me
To your best service; like an open friend
I treated, trusted, you, and thought you mine:
When, in requital of my best endeavours,

In right, though proud oppression will not hear me? You treacherously practised to undo me;

Pri. Have you not wronged me?

Jaf. Could my nature e'er

Have brooked injustice, or the doing wrongs,
I need not now thus low have bent myself,
To gain a hearing from a cruel father.
Wronged you!

Pri. Yes, wronged me! In the nicest point, The honour of my house, you have done me wrong.

You may remember (for I now will speak,

Seduced the weakness of my age's darling,
My only child, and stole her from my bosom.
Oh Belvidera!

Jaf. 'Tis to me you owe her!
Childless you had been else, and in the grave
Your name extinct; no more Priuli heard of.
You may remember, scarce five years are past,
Since in your brigantine you sailed to see
The Adriatic wedded by our duke;
And I was with you: your unskilful pilot