Dr. Johnson observes,—"This is one of the few pieces that has pleased for almost a century, through all the vicissitudes of dramatic fashion. Of this play, nothing new can easily be said. It is a domestic tragedy, drawn from middle life:—its whole power is upon the affections; for it is not written with much comprehension of thought, or elegance of expression. But, if the heart is interested, many other beauties may be wanting; yet not be missed."
|
Enter Castalio, Polydore, and Page.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Polydore, our sport
|
|
Has been to-day much better for the danger:
|
|
When on the brink the foaming boar I met,
|
|
And in his side thought to have lodg'd my spear,
|
|
The desperate savage rush'd within my force,
|
|
And bore me headlong with him down the rock.
|
|
|
|
Pol. But then——
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ay, then, my brother, my friend, Polydore,
|
|
Like Perseus mounted on his winged steed,
|
|
Came on, and down the dang'rous precipice leap'd
|
|
To save Castilio.—'Twas a godlike act!
|
|
|
|
Pol. But when I came, I found you conqueror.
|
|
Oh! my heart danc'd, to see your danger past!
|
|
The heat and fury of the chase was cold,
|
|
And I had nothing in my mind but joy.
|
|
|
|
Cas. So, Polydore, methinks, we might in war
|
|
Rush on together; thou shouldst be my guard,
|
|
And I be thine. What is't could hurt us then?
|
|
Now half the youth of Europe are in arms,
|
|
How fulsome must it be to stay behind,
|
|
And die of rank diseases here at home!
|
|
|
|
Pol. No, let me purchase in my youth renown,
|
|
To make me lov'd and valu'd when I'm old;
|
|
I would be busy in the world, and learn,
|
|
Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed,
|
|
Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Our father
|
|
Has ta'en himself a surfeit of the world,
|
|
And cries, it is not safe that we should taste it.
|
|
I own, I have duty very pow'rful in me:
|
|
And though I'd hazard all to raise my name,
|
|
Yet he's so tender, and so good a father,
|
|
I could not do a thing to cross his will.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Castalio, I have doubts within my heart,
|
|
Which you, and only you, can satisfy.
|
|
Will you be free and candid to your friend?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Have I a thought my Polydore should not know?
|
|
What can this mean?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Nay, I'll conjure you too,
|
|
By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship,
|
|
To show your heart as naked in this point,
|
|
As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n.
|
|
And should I chance to touch it near, bear it
|
|
With all the suff'rance of a tender friend.
|
|
|
|
Cas. As calmly as the wounded patient bears
|
|
The artist's hand, that ministers his cure.
|
|
|
|
Pol. That's kindly said.——You know our father's ward,
|
|
The fair Monimia:—is your heart at peace?
|
|
Is it so guarded, that you could not love her?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Suppose I should?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Suppose you should not, brother?
|
|
|
|
Cas. You'd say, I must not.
|
|
|
|
Pol. That would sound too roughly
|
|
Twixt friends and brothers, as we two are.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Is love a fault?
|
|
|
|
Pol. In one of us it may be——
|
|
What, if I love her?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Then I must inform you
|
|
I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the claim;
|
|
But will preserve the birthright of my passion.
|
|
|
|
Pol. You will?
|
|
|
|
Cas. I will.
|
|
|
|
Pol. No more; I've done.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Why not?
|
|
|
|
Pol. I told you, I had done.
|
|
But you, Castalio, would dispute it.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No;
|
|
Not with my Polydore:—though I must own
|
|
My nature obstinate, and void of suff'rance;
|
|
I could not bear a rival in my friendship,
|
|
I am so much in love, and fond of thee.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Yet you will break this friendship!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Not for crowns.
|
|
|
|
Pol. But for a toy you would, a woman's toy,
|
|
Unjust Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Pr'ythee, where's my fault?
|
|
|
|
Pol. You love Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Yes.
|
|
|
|
Pol. And you would kill me,
|
|
If I'm your rival?
|
|
|
|
Cas. No;—sure we're such friends,
|
|
So much one man, that our affections too
|
|
Must be united, and the same as we are.
|
|
|
|
Pol. I dote upon Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Love her still;
|
|
Win, and enjoy her.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Both of us cannot.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No matter
|
|
Whose chance it prove; but let's not quarrel for't.
|
|
|
|
Pol. You would not wed Monimia, would you?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Wed her!
|
|
No—were she all desire could wish, as fair
|
|
As would the vainest of her sex be thought,
|
|
With wealth beyond what woman's pride could waste,
|
|
She should not cheat me of my freedom.—Marry!
|
|
When I am old and weary of the world,
|
|
I may grow desperate,
|
|
And take a wife to mortify withal.
|
|
|
|
Pol. It is an elder brother's duty, so
|
|
To propagate his family and name.
|
|
You would not have yours die, and buried with you?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Mere vanity, and silly dotage, all:—
|
|
No, let me live at large, and when I die——
|
|
|
|
Pol. Who shall possess th' estate you leave?
|
|
|
|
Cas. My friend,
|
|
If he survive me; if not, my king,
|
|
Who may bestow't again on some brave man,
|
|
Whose honesty and services deserve one.
|
|
|
|
Pol. 'Tis kindly offer'd.
|
|
|
|
Cas. By yon heaven, I love
|
|
My Polydore beyond all worldly joys;
|
|
And would not shock his quiet, to be blest
|
|
With greater happiness than man e'er tasted.
|
|
|
|
Pol. And, by that heaven, eternally I swear
|
|
To keep the kind Castalio in my heart.
|
|
Whose shall Monimia be?
|
|
|
|
Cas. No matter whose.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Were you not with her privately last night?
|
|
|
|
Cas. I was; and should have met her here again.
|
|
The opportunity shall now be thine?
|
|
But have a care, by friendship I conjure thee,
|
|
That no false play be offer'd to thy brother.
|
|
Urge all thy powers to make thy passion prosper;
|
|
But wrong not mine.
|
|
|
|
Pol. By heaven, I will not.
|
|
|
|
Cas. If't prove thy fortune, Polydore, to conquer
|
|
(For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion);
|
|
Trust me, and let me know thy love's success,
|
|
That I may ever after stifle mine.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Though she be dearer to my soul than rest
|
|
To weary pilgrims, or to misers gold,
|
|
To great men pow'r, or wealthy cities pride;
|
|
Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her.
|
|
[exeunt Castalio and Polydore.
|
|
|
|
Enter Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore this way?
|
|
|
|
Page. Madam, just now.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Sure, some ill fate's upon me:
|
|
Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart,
|
|
And apprehension shocks my tim'rous soul.
|
|
Why was I not laid in my peaceful grave
|
|
With my poor parents, and at rest as they are?
|
|
Instead of that, I'm wand'ring into cares.——
|
|
Castalio! O Castalio! hast thou caught
|
|
My foolish heart; and, like a tender child,
|
|
That trusts his plaything to another hand,
|
|
I fear its harm, and fain would have it back.
|
|
Come near, Cordelio; I must chide you, sir.
|
|
|
|
Page. Why, madam, have I done you any wrong?
|
|
|
|
Mon. I never see you now; you have been kinder;
|
|
Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money for you.
|
|
|
|
Page. Madam, I'd serve you with all my soul.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Tell me, Cordelio (for thou oft hast heard
|
|
Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets),
|
|
Sometimes, at least, have they not talk'd of me?
|
|
|
|
Page. O madam! very wickedly they have talk'd:
|
|
But I am afraid to name it; for, they say,
|
|
Boys must be whipp'd, that tell their masters' secrets.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be known;
|
|
For I'll preserve the secret as 'twere mine.
|
|
Polydore cannot be so kind as I.
|
|
I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sports,
|
|
With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page.
|
|
|
|
Page. And truly, madam, I had rather be so.
|
|
Methinks you love me better than my lord;
|
|
For he was never half so kind as you are.
|
|
What must I do?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Inform me how thou'st heard
|
|
Castalio and his brother use my name.
|
|
|
|
Page. With all the tenderness of love,
|
|
You were the subject of their last discourse.
|
|
At first I thought it would have fatal prov'd;
|
|
But, as the one grew hot, the other cool'd,
|
|
And yielded to the frailty of his friend;
|
|
At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolv'd——
|
|
|
|
Mon. What, good Cordelio?
|
|
|
|
Page. Not to quarrel for you.
|
|
|
|
Mon. I would not have 'em, by my dearest hopes;
|
|
I would not be the argument of strife.
|
|
But surely my Castalio won't forsake me,
|
|
And make a mock'ry of my easy love!
|
|
Went they together?
|
|
|
|
Page. Yes, to seek you, madam.
|
|
Castalio promis'd Polydore to bring him,
|
|
Where he alone might meet you,
|
|
And fairly try the fortune of his wishes.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Am I then grown so cheap, just to be made
|
|
A common stake, a prize for love in jest?
|
|
Was not Castalio very loth to yield it?
|
|
Or was it Polydore's unruly passion,
|
|
That heighten'd the debate?
|
|
|
|
Page. The fault was Polydore's.
|
|
Castalio play'd with love, and smiling show'd
|
|
The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire.
|
|
He said, no woman's smiles should buy his freedom;
|
|
And marriage is a mortifying thing.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Then I am ruin'd! if Castalio's false,
|
|
Where is there faith and honour to be found?
|
|
Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide
|
|
The weak, protect and take me to your care.
|
|
O, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck me!
|
|
Why was I made with all my sex's fondness,
|
|
Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies?
|
|
I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods,
|
|
Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs;
|
|
Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still.
|
|
|
|
Re-enter Castalio and Polydore.
|
|
|
|
He comes.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Madam, my brother begs he may have leave
|
|
To tell you something that concerns you nearly.
|
|
I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw.
|
|
|
|
Mon. My lord Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Madam!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Have you purpos'd
|
|
To abuse me palpably? What means this usage?
|
|
Why am I left with Polydore alone?
|
|
|
|
Cas. He best can tell you. Business of importance
|
|
Calls me away: I must attend my father.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Will you then leave me thus?
|
|
|
|
Cas. But for a moment.
|
|
|
|
Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been,
|
|
When business might have stay'd, and I been heard.
|
|
|
|
Cas. I could for ever hear thee; but this time
|
|
Matters of such odd circumstances press me,
|
|
That I must go.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever.
|
|
Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business,
|
|
And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes.
|
|
|
|
Pol. If to desire you, more than misers wealth,
|
|
Or dying men an hour of added life;
|
|
If softest wishes, and a heart more true
|
|
Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd,
|
|
Speak an ill nature; you accuse me justly.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Talk not of love, my lord, I must not hear it.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Who can behold such beauty, and be silent?
|
|
Desire first taught us words. Man, when created,
|
|
At first alone long wander'd up and down
|
|
Forlorn and silent as his vassal beasts:
|
|
But when a heav'n-born maid, like you, appear'd,
|
|
Strange pleasures fill'd his eyes and fir'd his heart,
|
|
Unloos'd his tongue, and his first talk was love.
|
|
|
|
Mon. The first created pair indeed were bless'd;
|
|
They were the only objects of each other,
|
|
Therefore he courted her, and her alone;
|
|
But in this peopled world of beauty, where
|
|
There's roving room, where you may court, and ruin
|
|
A thousand more, why need you talk to me?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Oh! I could talk to thee for ever. Thus
|
|
Eternally admiring, fix, and gaze,
|
|
On those dear eyes; for every glance they send
|
|
Darts through my soul.
|
|
|
|
Mon. How can you labour thus for my undoing?
|
|
I must confess, indeed, I owe you more
|
|
Than ever I can hope, or think, to pay.
|
|
There always was a friendship 'twixt our families;
|
|
And therefore when my tender parents dy'd,
|
|
Whose ruin'd fortunes too expir'd with them,
|
|
Your father's pity and his bounty took me,
|
|
A poor and helpless orphan, to his care.
|
|
|
|
Pol. 'Twas Heav'n ordain'd it so, to make me happy.
|
|
Hence with this peevish virtue, 'tis a cheat;
|
|
And those who taught it first were hypocrites.
|
|
Come, these soft tender limbs were made for yielding.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Here, on my knees, by heav'n's blest pow'r I swear,
|
|
[kneels.
|
|
If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you,
|
|
But rather wander through the world a beggar,
|
|
And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors;
|
|
For, though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit
|
|
My mother's virtues, and my father's honour.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Intolerable vanity! your sex
|
|
Was never in the right! y'are always false,
|
|
Or silly; ev'n your dresses are not more
|
|
Fantastic than your appetites; you think
|
|
Of nothing twice; opinion you have none.
|
|
To-day y'are nice, to-morrow not so free;
|
|
Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then glad;
|
|
Now pleas'd, now not: and all, you know not why!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Indeed, my lord,
|
|
I own my sex's follies; I have 'em all;
|
|
And, to avoid its fault, must fly from you.
|
|
Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high
|
|
As most fantastic woman's wish could reach,
|
|
And lay all nature's riches at my feet;
|
|
I'd rather run a savage in the woods,
|
|
Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled and deform'd,
|
|
So I might still enjoy my honour safe,
|
|
From the destroying wiles of faithless men.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Who'd be that sordid thing call'd man?
|
|
I'll yet possess my love; it shall be so.[exeunt.
|
|
Enter Polydore and Page.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Were they so kind? Express it to me all
|
|
In words; 'twill make me think I saw it too.
|
|
|
|
Page. At first I thought they had been mortal foes:
|
|
Monimia rag'd, Castalio grew disturb'd:
|
|
Each thought the other wrong'd; yet both so haughty,
|
|
They scorn'd submission, though love all the while
|
|
The rebel play'd, and scarce could be contain'd.
|
|
|
|
Pol. But what succeeded?
|
|
|
|
Page. Oh, 'twas wondrous pretty!
|
|
For of a sudden all the storm was past:
|
|
A gentle calm of love succeeded it:
|
|
Monimia sigh'd and blush'd; Castalio swore;
|
|
As you, my lord, I well remember, did
|
|
To my young sister, in the orange grove,
|
|
When I was first preferr'd to be your page.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Boy, go to your chamber, and prepare your lute.
|
|
[exit Page.
|
|
Happy Castalio! now, by my great soul,
|
|
My ambitious soul, that languishes to glory,
|
|
I'll have her yet; by my best hopes, I will;
|
|
She shall be mine, in spite of all her arts.
|
|
But for Castalio, why was I refus'd?
|
|
Has he supplanted me by some foul play?
|
|
Traduc'd my honour? death! he durst not do't.
|
|
It must be so: we parted, and he met her,
|
|
Half to compliance brought by me; surpris'd
|
|
Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite.
|
|
So poachers pick up tir'd game,
|
|
While the fair hunter's cheated of his prey.
|
|
Boy!
|
|
|
|
Enter a Servant.
|
|
|
|
Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er told!
|
|
|
|
Pol. The matter?
|
|
|
|
Serv. Oh! your father, my good master,
|
|
As with his guests he sat in mirth rais'd high,
|
|
And chas'd the goblet round the joyful board,
|
|
A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his limbs;
|
|
His eyes distorted grew, his visage pale,
|
|
His speech forsook him, life itself seem'd fled,
|
|
And all his friends are waiting now about him.
|
|
|
|
Enter Acasto and Attendants.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Support me, give me air, I'll yet recover.
|
|
'Twas but a slip decaying nature made;
|
|
For she grows weary near her journey's end.
|
|
Where are my sons? come near, my Polydore!
|
|
Your brother—where's Castalio?
|
|
|
|
Serv. My lord,
|
|
I've search'd, as you commanded, all the house!
|
|
He and Monimia are not to be found.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Not to be found? then where are all my friends?
|
|
'Tis well—
|
|
I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault
|
|
My unmannerly infirmity has made!
|
|
Death could not come in a more welcome hour;
|
|
For I'm prepar'd to meet him; and, methinks,
|
|
Would live and die with all my friends about me.
|
|
|
|
Enter Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Angels preserve my dearest father's life!
|
|
Oh! may he live till time itself decay,
|
|
Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him!
|
|
|
|
Acas. Thank you, Castalio: give me both your hands.
|
|
So now, methinks,
|
|
I appear as great as Hercules himself,
|
|
Supported by the pillars he has rais'd.
|
|
|
|
Enter Serina.
|
|
|
|
Ser. My father!
|
|
|
|
Acas. My heart's darling!
|
|
|
|
Ser. Let my knees
|
|
Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest,
|
|
But wake and weep, till heaven restore my father.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Rise to my arms, and thy kind pray'rs are answer'd.
|
|
For thou'rt a wondrous extract of all goodness;
|
|
Born for my joy, and no pain's felt when near thee.
|
|
Chamont!
|
|
|
|
Enter Chamont.
|
|
|
|
Cham. My lord, may't prove not an unlucky omen!
|
|
Many I see are waiting round about you,
|
|
And I am come to ask a blessing too.
|
|
|
|
Acas. May'st thou be happy!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Where?
|
|
|
|
Acas. In all thy wishes.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Confirm me so, and make this fair one mine:
|
|
I am unpractis'd in the trade of courtship,
|
|
And know not how to deal love out with art:
|
|
Onsets in love seem best like those in war,
|
|
Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force;
|
|
So I would open my whole heart at once,
|
|
And pour out the abundance of my soul.
|
|
|
|
Acas. What says Serina? canst thou love a soldier?
|
|
One born to honour, and to honour bred?
|
|
One that has learn'd to treat e'en foes with kindness,
|
|
To wrong no good man's fame, nor praise himself?
|
|
|
|
Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's ally'd to joy;
|
|
And joy must be a stranger to my heart,
|
|
When you're in danger. May Chamont's good fortune
|
|
Render him lovely to some happier maid!
|
|
Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest,
|
|
Praise the kind gods, and wonder at his virtues.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and possess her,
|
|
And, as my son, a third of all my fortune
|
|
Shall be thy lot.
|
|
Chamont, you told me of some doubts that press'd you:
|
|
Are you yet satisfy'd that I'm your friend?
|
|
|
|
Cham. My lord, I would not lose that satisfaction,
|
|
For any blessing I could wish for:
|
|
As to my fears, already I have lost them:
|
|
They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you.
|
|
|
|
Acas. I thank you.
|
|
My friends, 'tis late:
|
|
Now my disorder seems all past and over,
|
|
And I, methinks, begin to feel new health.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Would you but rest, it might restore you quite.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour weakness.
|
|
Good night, my friends! Heaven guard you all! Good night!
|
|
To-morrow early we'll salute the day,
|
|
Find out new pleasures, and renew lost time.
|
|
[exeunt all but Chamont and Chaplain.
|
|
|
|
Cham. If you're at leisure, sir, we'll waste an hour:
|
|
'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and t'will be charity
|
|
To lend your conversation to a stranger.
|
|
|
|
Chap. Sir, you're a soldier?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Yes.
|
|
|
|
Chap. I love a soldier;
|
|
And had been one myself, but that my parents
|
|
Would make me what you see me.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Have you had long dependance on this family?
|
|
|
|
Chap. I have not thought it so, because my time's
|
|
Spent pleasantly. My lord's not haughty nor imperious,
|
|
Nor I gravely whimsical; he has good nature.
|
|
His sons too are civil to me, because
|
|
I do not pretend to be wiser than they are;
|
|
I meddle with no man's business but my own,
|
|
So meet with respect, and am not the jest of the family.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I'm glad you are so happy.
|
|
A pleasant fellow this, and may be useful.[aside.
|
|
Knew you my father, the old Chamont?
|
|
|
|
Chap. I did; and was most sorry when we lost him.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Why, didst thou love him?
|
|
|
|
Chap. Ev'ry body lov'd him; besides, he was my patron's friend.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I could embrace thee for that very notion:
|
|
If thou didst love my father, I could think
|
|
Thou wouldst not be an enemy to me.
|
|
|
|
Chap. I can be no man's foe.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Then pr'ythee, tell me;
|
|
Think'st thou the lord Castalio loves my sister?
|
|
|
|
Chap. Love your sister?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Ay, love her.
|
|
|
|
Chap. Either he loves her, or he much has wrong'd her.
|
|
|
|
Cham. How wrong'd her? have a care; for this may lay
|
|
A scene of mischief to undo us all.
|
|
But tell me, wrong'd her, saidst thou?
|
|
|
|
Chap. Ay, sir, wrong'd her.
|
|
|
|
Cham. This is a secret worth a monarch's fortune:
|
|
What shall I give thee for't? thou dear physician
|
|
Of sickly wounds, unfold this riddle to me,
|
|
And comfort mine——
|
|
|
|
Chap. I would hide nothing from you willingly.
|
|
|
|
Cham. By the reverenc'd soul
|
|
Of that great honest man that gave me being,
|
|
Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my honour,
|
|
And, if I e'er reveal it to thy wrong,
|
|
May this good sword ne'er do me right in battle!
|
|
May I ne'er know that blessed peace of mind,
|
|
That dwells in good and pious men like thee!
|
|
|
|
Chap. I see your temper's mov'd and I will trust you.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Wilt thou?
|
|
|
|
Chap. I will; but if it ever 'scape you——
|
|
|
|
Cham. It never shall.
|
|
|
|
Chap. Then, this good day, when all the house was busy,
|
|
When mirth and kind rejoicing fill'd each room,
|
|
As I was walking in the grove I met them.
|
|
|
|
Cham. What, met them in the grove together?
|
|
|
|
Chap. I, by their own appointment, met them there,
|
|
Receiv'd their marriage vows, and join'd their hands.
|
|
|
|
Cham. How! married?
|
|
|
|
Chap. Yes, sir.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Then my soul's at peace:
|
|
But why would you so long delay to give it?
|
|
|
|
Chap. Not knowing what reception it may find
|
|
With old Acasto; may be, I was too cautious
|
|
To trust the secret from me.
|
|
|
|
Cham. What's the cause
|
|
I cannot guess, though 'tis my sister's honour,
|
|
I do not like this marriage,
|
|
Huddled i'the dark, and done at too much venture;
|
|
The business looks with an unlucky face.
|
|
Keep still the secret: for it ne'er shall 'scape me,
|
|
Not e'en to them, the new-match'd pair. Farewel!
|
|
Believe the truth, and know me for thy friend.[exeunt.
|
|
|
|
Re-enter Castalio, with Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Young Chamont and the chaplain! sure 'tis they!
|
|
No matter what's contriv'd, or who consulted,
|
|
Since my Monimia's mine; though this sad look
|
|
Seems no good boding omen to our bliss;
|
|
Else, pr'ythee, tell me why that look cast down,
|
|
Why that sad sigh, as if thy heart was breaking?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we've done;
|
|
The heavenly powers were sure displeas'd to-day;
|
|
For, at the ceremony as we stood,
|
|
And as your hand was kindly join'd with mine,
|
|
As the good priest pronounc'd the sacred words,
|
|
Passion grew big, and I could not forbear:
|
|
Tears drown'd my eyes, and trembling seiz'd my soul.
|
|
What should that mean?
|
|
|
|
Cas. O, thou art tender all!
|
|
Gentle and kind as sympathising nature!
|
|
|
|
Re-enter Polydore, unobserved.
|
|
|
|
But wherefore do I dally with my bliss?
|
|
The night's far spent, and day draws on apace;
|
|
To bed, my love, and wake till I come thither.
|
|
|
|
Mon. 'Twill be impossible:
|
|
You know your father's chamber's next to mine,
|
|
And the least noise will certainly alarm him.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No more, my blessing.
|
|
What shall be the sign?
|
|
When shall I come? for to my joys I'll steal,
|
|
As if I ne'er had paid my freedom for them.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Just three soft strokes upon the chamber door,
|
|
And at that signal you shall gain admittance:
|
|
But speak not the least word; for, if you should,
|
|
'Tis surely heard, and all will be betray'd.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys
|
|
Shall be as silent as the ecstatic bliss
|
|
Of souls, that by intelligence converse.
|
|
Away, my love! first take this kiss. Now, haste:
|
|
I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute past.
|
|
My brother wand'ring too so late this way![exit Mon.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cas. My Polydore, how dost thou?
|
|
How does our father? is he well recover'd?
|
|
|
|
Pol. I left him happily repos'd to rest:
|
|
He's still as gay as if his life was young.
|
|
But how does fair Monimia?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Doubtless, well:
|
|
A cruel beauty, with her conquest pleas'd,
|
|
Is always joyful, and her mind in health.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was?
|
|
May we not hope she's made of mortal mould?
|
|
|
|
Cas. She's not woman else:
|
|
Though I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping;
|
|
We've in a barren desart stray'd too long.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Yet may relief be unexpected found,
|
|
And love's sweet manna cover all the field.
|
|
Met ye to-day?
|
|
|
|
Cas. No; she has still avoided me;
|
|
I wish I'd never meddled with the matter,
|
|
And would enjoin thee, Polydore——
|
|
|
|
Pol. To what?
|
|
|
|
Cas. To leave this peevish beauty to herself.
|
|
|
|
Pol. What, quit my love? as soon I'd quit my post
|
|
In fight, and like a coward run away.
|
|
No, by my stars, I'll chase her till she yields
|
|
To me, or meets her rescue in another.
|
|
|
|
Cas. But I have wond'rous reasons on my side,
|
|
That would persuade thee, were they known.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Then speak 'em:
|
|
What are they? Came ye to her window here
|
|
To learn 'em now? Castalio, have a care;
|
|
Use honest dealing with a friend and brother.
|
|
Believe me, I'm not with my love so blinded,
|
|
But can discern your purpose to abuse me.
|
|
Quit your pretences to her.
|
|
You say you've reasons: why are they conceal'd?
|
|
|
|
Cas. To-morrow I may tell you.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Why not now?
|
|
|
|
Cas. It is a matter of such consequence,
|
|
As I must well consult ere I reveal.
|
|
But pr'ythee cease to think I would abuse thee,
|
|
Till more be known.
|
|
|
|
Pol. When you, Castalio, cease
|
|
To meet Monimia unknown to me,
|
|
And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease
|
|
To think Castalio faithless to his friend.
|
|
Did I not see you part this very moment?
|
|
|
|
Cas. It seems you've watch'd me, then?
|
|
|
|
Pol. I scorn the office.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent.
|
|
|
|
Pol. That is, henceforward making league with you.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Nay, if ye're angry, Polydore, good night.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Good night, Castalio, if ye're in such haste.
|
|
He little thinks I've overheard th' appointment:
|
|
But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile,
|
|
Then come and take possession of my love.
|
|
This is the utmost point of all my hopes;
|
|
Or now she must, or never can, be mine.
|
|
Oh, for a means now how to counterplot,
|
|
And disappoint this happy elder brother
|
|
In every thing we do or undertake,
|
|
He soars above me, mount what height I can,
|
|
And keeps the start he got of me in birth.
|
|
Cordelio!
|
|
|
|
Re-enter Page.
|
|
|
|
Page. My lord!
|
|
|
|
Pol. Come hither, boy!
|
|
Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face,
|
|
And may'st in time expect preferment. Canst thou
|
|
Pretend to secresy, cajole and flatter
|
|
Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures?
|
|
|
|
Page. My lord, I could do any thing for you,
|
|
And ever be a very faithful boy.
|
|
Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe;
|
|
Be it to run, or watch, or to convey
|
|
A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom:
|
|
At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn.
|
|
|
|
Pol. 'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be employ'd.
|
|
Go to my brother, he's in his chamber now,
|
|
Undressing, and preparing for his rest;
|
|
Find out some means to keep him up awhile:
|
|
Tell him a pretty story, that may please
|
|
His ear; invent a tale, no matter what:
|
|
If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone
|
|
To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure,
|
|
Whether he'll hunt to-morrow.
|
|
But do not leave him till he's in his bed;
|
|
Or, if he chance to walk again this way,
|
|
Follow, and do not quit him, but seem fond
|
|
To do him little offices of service.
|
|
Perhaps at last it may offend him; then
|
|
Retire, and wait till I come in. Away!
|
|
Succeed in this, and be employ'd again.
|
|
|
|
Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind
|
|
To me; would often set me on his knee,
|
|
Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy,
|
|
And ask me what the maids talk'd of at nights.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Run quickly then, and prosp'rous be thy wishes.
|
|
Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief.[exit Page.
|
|
I heard the sign she order'd him to give.
|
|
"Just three soft strokes against the chamber door;
|
|
But speak not the least word, for, if you should,
|
|
It's surely heard, and we are both betray'd."
|
|
Blest heav'ns, 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.
|
|
|
|
Flo. [At the window.] Who's there?
|
|
|
|
Pol. 'Tis I.
|
|
|
|
Flo. My lord Castalio?
|
|
|
|
Pol. The same.
|
|
How does my love, my dear Monimia?
|
|
|
|
Flo. Oh!
|
|
She wonders much at your unkind delay;
|
|
You've staid so long, that at each little noise
|
|
The wind but makes, she asks if you are coming.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be open'd.
|
|
[Florella withdraws.
|
|
Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell
|
|
Thyself strange stories of a promis'd bliss![exit.
|
|
|
|
Re-enter Castalio and Page.
|
|
|
|
Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely morning:
|
|
Pray, let us hunt.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Go, you're an idle prattler:
|
|
I'll stay at home to-morrow; if your lord
|
|
Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go, leave me:
|
|
I must to bed.
|
|
|
|
Page. I'll wait upon your lordship,
|
|
If you think fit, and sing you to repose.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No, my kind boy.
|
|
Good night: commend me to my brother.
|
|
|
|
Page. Oh!
|
|
You never heard the last new song I learn'd;
|
|
It is the finest, prettiest, song indeed,
|
|
Of my lord and my lady, you know who, that were caught
|
|
Together, you know where. My lord, indeed it is.
|
|
|
|
Cas. You must be whipp'd, youngster,
|
|
if you get such songs as those are.
|
|
What means this boy's impertinence to-night?[aside.
|
|
|
|
Page. Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear lord?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Psalms, child, psalms.
|
|
|
|
Page. O dear me! boys that go to school learn psalms;
|
|
But pages, that are better bred, sing lampoons.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Well, leave me; I'm weary.
|
|
|
|
Page. Indeed, my lord, I can't abide to leave you.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Why, wert thou instructed to attend me?
|
|
|
|
Page. No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not.
|
|
But I know what I know.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What dost thou know?——'Sdeath! what can all this mean?
|
|
[aside.
|
|
|
|
Page. Oh! I know who loves somebody.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What's that to me, boy?
|
|
|
|
Page. Nay, I know who loves you too.
|
|
|
|
Cas. That's a wonder! pr'ythee, tell it me.
|
|
|
|
Page. 'Tis—'tis—I know who—but will
|
|
You give me the horse, then?
|
|
|
|
Cas. I will, my child.
|
|
|
|
Page. It is my lady Monimia, look you; but don't you tell her I
|
|
told you: she'll give me no more playthings then. I heard her say
|
|
so, as she lay abed, man.
|
|
|
|
Cas. 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 look with her eyes!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Hark! what's that noise?
|
|
Take this; be gone, and leave me.
|
|
You knave, you little flatterer, get you gone.[ex. Page.
|
|
Surely it was a noise, hist!——only fancy;
|
|
For all is hush'd, as nature were retir'd.
|
|
'Tis now, that, guided by my love, I go
|
|
To take possession of Monimia's arms.
|
|
Sure Polydore's by this time gone to bed.[knocks.
|
|
She hears me not? sure, she already sleeps!
|
|
Her wishes could not brook so long delay,
|
|
And her poor heart has beat itself to rest.[knocks.
|
|
Once more——
|
|
|
|
Flo. [at the window] Who's there,
|
|
That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest?
|
|
|
|
Cas. 'Tis I.
|
|
|
|
Flo. Who are you? what's your name?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Suppose the lord Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Flo. I know you not.
|
|
The lord Castalio has no business here.
|
|
|
|
Cas. 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.
|
|
|
|
Flo. Whoe'er you are, you may repent this outrage:
|
|
My lady must not be disturb'd. Good night!
|
|
|
|
Cas. She must! tell her, she shall; go, I'm in haste,
|
|
And bring her tidings from the state of love.
|
|
|
|
Flo. Sure the man's mad!
|
|
|
|
Cas. 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!
|
|
|
|
Flo. My lady's answer is, you may depart.
|
|
She says she knows you: you are Polydore,
|
|
Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day,
|
|
T'affront and do her violence again.
|
|
|
|
Cas. I'll not believe't.
|
|
|
|
Flo. You may, sir.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Curses blast thee!
|
|
|
|
Flo. Well, 'tis a fine cool ev'ning! and I hope
|
|
May cure the raging fever in your blood!
|
|
Good night.
|
|
|
|
Cas. And farewell all that's just in woman!
|
|
This is contriv'd, a study'd trick, to abuse
|
|
My easy nature, and torment my mind!
|
|
'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it!
|
|
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 th' 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.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Who's there?
|
|
|
|
Ern. Castalio!—My lord, why in this posture,
|
|
Stretch'd on the ground? your honest, true, old servant,
|
|
Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus.
|
|
Rise, I beseech you.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Oh, leave me to my folly.
|
|
|
|
Ern. I can't leave you,
|
|
And not the reason know of your disorders.
|
|
Remember how, when young, I in my arms
|
|
Have often borne you, pleas'd you in your pleasures,
|
|
And sought an early share in your affection.
|
|
Do not discard me now, but let me serve you.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Thou canst not serve me.
|
|
|
|
Ern. Why?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Because my thoughts
|
|
Are full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past them.
|
|
|
|
Ern. I hate the sex.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto![rises.
|
|
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 betray'd the capitol?—a woman!
|
|
Who lost Mark Antony the world?—a woman!
|
|
Who was the cause of a long ten years' war,
|
|
And laid at last old 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 awhile in Paradise they lay;
|
|
But quickly woman long'd to go astray:
|
|
Some foolish new adventure needs must prove,
|
|
And the first devil she saw, she chang'd her love:
|
|
To his temptations lewdly she inclin'd
|
|
Her soul, and for an apple damn'd mankind.[exeunt.
|
|
Enter Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Wish'd morning's come! And now upon the plains,
|
|
And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks,
|
|
The happy shepherds leave their homely huts,
|
|
And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day.
|
|
There's no condition sure so curs'd as mine——
|
|
Monimia! O Monimia!
|
|
|
|
Enter Monimia and Florella.
|
|
|
|
Mon. I come!
|
|
I fly to my ador'd Castalio's arms,
|
|
My wishes' lord. May every morn begin
|
|
Like this; and, with our days, our loves renew!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Oh——
|
|
|
|
Mon. Art thou not well, Castalio? Come, lean
|
|
Upon my breast, and tell me where's thy pain.
|
|
|
|
Cas. 'Tis here—'tis in my head—'tis in my heart—
|
|
'Tis every where: it rages like a madness,
|
|
And I most wonder how my reason holds.
|
|
No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts:
|
|
They're useless all—I'm not that pliant tool;
|
|
I know my charter better——I am man,
|
|
Obstinate man, and will not be enslav'd!
|
|
|
|
Mon. You shall not fear't; indeed, my nature's easy:
|
|
I'll ever live your most obedient wife!
|
|
Nor ever any privilege pretend
|
|
Beyond your will; for that shall be my law;—
|
|
Indeed, I will not.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Nay, you shall not, madam;
|
|
By yon bright heaven, you shall not: all the day
|
|
I'll play the tyrant, and at night forsake thee;
|
|
Nay, if I've any too, thou shalt be made
|
|
Subservient to my looser pleasures;
|
|
For thou hast wrong'd Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence!
|
|
I'll never quit you else; but, on these knees,
|
|
Thus follow you all day, till they're worn bare,
|
|
And hang upon you like a drowning creature.
|
|
Castalio!——
|
|
|
|
Cas. Away!——Last night! last night!——
|
|
|
|
Mon. It was our wedding night.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No more!—Forget it!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Why! do you then repent?
|
|
|
|
Cas. I do.
|
|
|
|
Mon. O heaven!
|
|
And will you leave me thus?—Help! help! Florella!
|
|
[Castalio drags her to the door, breaks from her, and exit.
|
|
|
|
Help me to hold this yet lov'd, cruel man!
|
|
Castalio!—Oh! how often has he sworn,
|
|
Nature should change—the sun and stars grow dark,
|
|
Ere he would falsify his vows to me!
|
|
Make haste, confusion, then! Sun, lose thy light!
|
|
And, stars, drop dead with sorrow to the earth,
|
|
For my Castalio's false!
|
|
False as the wind, the waters, or the weather!
|
|
Cruel as tigers o'er their trembling prey!
|
|
I feel him in my breast; he tears my heart,
|
|
And at each sigh he drinks the gushing blood!
|
|
Must I be long in pain?
|
|
|
|
Enter Chamont.
|
|
|
|
Cham. In tears, Monimia!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Whoe'er thou art,
|
|
Leave me alone to my belov'd despair!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Lift up thy eyes, and see who comes to cheer thee!
|
|
Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and then
|
|
See if my soul has rest, till thou hast justice.
|
|
|
|
Mon. My brother!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Yes, Monimia, if thou think'st
|
|
That I deserve the name, I am thy brother.
|
|
|
|
Mon. O Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Ha!
|
|
Name me that name again! my soul's on fire
|
|
Till I know all!—There's meaning in that name:—
|
|
I know he is thy husband; therefore, trust me
|
|
With the following truth.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Indeed, Chamont,
|
|
There's nothing in it but the fault of nature:
|
|
I'm often thus seiz'd suddenly with grief,
|
|
I know not why.
|
|
|
|
Cham. You use me ill, Monimia;
|
|
And I might think, with justice, most severely
|
|
Of this unfaithful dealing with your brother.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Truly I'm not to blame. Suppose I'm fond,
|
|
And grieve for what as much may please another?
|
|
Should I upbraid the dearest friend on earth
|
|
For the first fault? You would not do so, would you?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Not if I'd cause to think it was a friend.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Why do you then call this unfaithful dealing?
|
|
I ne'er conceal'd my soul from you before:
|
|
Bear with me now, and search my wounds no further;
|
|
For every probing pains me to the heart.
|
|
|
|
Cham. 'Tis sign there's danger in't, and must be prob'd.
|
|
Where's your new husband? Still that thought disturbs you—
|
|
What! only answer me with tears?—Castalio!
|
|
Nay, now they stream:—
|
|
Cruel, unkind, Castalio!—Is't not so?
|
|
|
|
Mon. I cannot speak;—grief flows so fast upon me,
|
|
It chokes, and will not let me tell the cause.
|
|
Oh!——
|
|
|
|
Cham. My Monimia! to my soul thou'rt dear
|
|
As honour to my name!
|
|
Why wilt thou not repose within my breast
|
|
The anguish that torments thee?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Oh! I dare not.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I have no friend but thee. We must confide
|
|
In one another.—Two unhappy orphans,
|
|
Alas! we are! and when I see thee grieve,
|
|
Methinks it is a part of me that suffers.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Could you be secret?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Secret as the grave.
|
|
|
|
Mon. But when I've told you, will you keep your fury
|
|
Within its bounds? Will you not do some rash
|
|
And horrid mischief? For, indeed, Chamont,
|
|
You would not think how hardly I've been us'd
|
|
From a dear friend—from one that has my soul
|
|
A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I will be calm.—But has Castalio wrong'd thee?
|
|
Has he already wasted all his love?
|
|
What has he done?—quickly! for I'm all trembling
|
|
With expectation of a horrid tale!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Oh! could you think it?
|
|
|
|
Cham. What?
|
|
|
|
Mon. I fear, he'll kill me!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Ha!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Indeed, I do: he's strangely cruel to me;
|
|
Which, if it last, I'm sure must break my heart.
|
|
|
|
Cham. What has he done?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Most barbarously us'd me.
|
|
Just as we met, and I, with open arms,
|
|
Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes,
|
|
Oh then——
|
|
|
|
Cham. Go on!
|
|
|
|
Mon. He threw me from his breast,
|
|
Like a detested sin.
|
|
|
|
Cham. How!
|
|
|
|
Mon. As I hung too
|
|
Upon his knees, and begg'd to know the cause,
|
|
He dragg'd me, like a slave, upon the earth,
|
|
And had no pity on my cries.
|
|
|
|
Cham. How! did he
|
|
Dash thee disdainfully away, with scorn?
|
|
|
|
Mon. He did.
|
|
|
|
Cham. What! throw thee from him?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Yes, indeed, he did!
|
|
|
|
Cham. So may this arm
|
|
Throw him to th' earth, like a dead dog despis'd.
|
|
Lameness and leprosy, blindness and lunacy,
|
|
Poverty, shame, pride, and the name of villain,
|
|
Light on me, if, Castalio, I forgive thee!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Nay, now, Chamont, art thou unkind as he is!
|
|
Didst thou not promise me thou wouldst be calm?
|
|
Keep my disgrace conceal'd?
|
|
Alas, I love him still; and though I ne'er
|
|
Clasp him again within these longing arms,
|
|
Yet bless him, bless him, gods, where'er he goes!
|
|
|
|
Enter Acasto.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Sure some ill fate is tow'rds me; in my house
|
|
I only meet with oddness and disorder.
|
|
Just this very moment
|
|
I met Castalio too——
|
|
|
|
Cham. Then you met a villain.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Ha!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Yes, a villain!
|
|
|
|
Acas. Have a care, young soldier,
|
|
How thou'rt too busy with Acasto's fame.
|
|
I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance:—
|
|
Villain, to thee.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Curse on thy scandalous age,
|
|
Which hinders me to rush upon thy throat,
|
|
And tear the root up of that cursed bramble!
|
|
|
|
Acas. Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old friend
|
|
Was ne'er thy father! Nothing of him's in thee!
|
|
What have I done, in my unhappy age,
|
|
To be thus us'd? I scorn to upbraid thee, boy!
|
|
But I could put thee in remembrance——
|
|
|
|
Cham. Do.
|
|
|
|
Acas. I scorn it.
|
|
|
|
Cham. No, I'll calmly hear the story;
|
|
For I would fain know all, to see which scale
|
|
Weighs most.——Ha! is not that good old Acasto?
|
|
What have I done?—Can you forgive this folly?
|
|
|
|
Acas. Why dost thou ask it?
|
|
|
|
Cham. 'Twas the rude o'erflowing
|
|
Of too much passion—Pray, my lord, forgive me.[kneels.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Mock me not, youth! I can revenge a wrong.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I know it well—but for this thought of mine,
|
|
Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it.
|
|
|
|
Acas. I will; but henceforth pr'ythee be more kind.
|
|
Whence came the cause?[raises him.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Indeed, I've been to blame;
|
|
For you've been my father—
|
|
You've been her father too.[takes Monimia's hand.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Forbear the prologue,
|
|
And let me know the substance of thy tale.
|
|
|
|
Cham. You took her up, a little tender flower,
|
|
Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost
|
|
Had nipp'd; and with a careful, loving hand,
|
|
Transplanted her into your own fair garden,
|
|
Where the sun always shines: there long she flourish'd;
|
|
Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye;
|
|
Till at the last a cruel spoiler came,
|
|
Cropp'd this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
|
|
Then cast it like a loathsome weed away.
|
|
|
|
Acas. You talk to me in parables, Chamont:
|
|
You may have known that I'm no wordy man.
|
|
Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves,
|
|
Or fools, that use them when they want good sense.
|
|
But honesty
|
|
Needs no disguise or ornament. Be plain.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Your son——
|
|
|
|
Acas. I've two; and both, I hope, have honour.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I hope so too; but——
|
|
|
|
Acas. Speak.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I must inform you,
|
|
Once more, Castalio——
|
|
|
|
Acas. Still Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cham. Yes;
|
|
Your son Castalio has wrong'd Monimia!
|
|
|
|
Acas. Ha! wrong'd her?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Marry'd her.
|
|
|
|
Acas. I'm sorry for't.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Why sorry?
|
|
By yon blest heaven, there's not a lord
|
|
But might be proud to take her to his heart.
|
|
|
|
Acas. I'll not deny't.
|
|
|
|
Cham. You dare not; by the gods,
|
|
You dare not. All your family combin'd
|
|
In one damn'd falsehood, to outdo Castalio,
|
|
Dare not deny't.
|
|
|
|
Acas. How has Castalio wrong'd her?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wrong'd:
|
|
Monimia, my sister, born as high
|
|
And noble as Castalio.—Do her justice,
|
|
Or, by the gods, I'll lay a scene of blood
|
|
Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature.
|
|
I'll do't.—Hark you, my lord, your son Castalio,
|
|
Take him to your closet, and there teach him manners.
|
|
|
|
Acas. You shall have justice.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Nay, I will have justice!
|
|
Who'll sleep in safety that has done me wrong?
|
|
My lord, I'll not disturb you to repeat
|
|
The cause of this; I beg you (to preserve
|
|
Your house's honour) ask it of Castalio.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Farewell, proud boy.—
|
|
Monimia!
|
|
|
|
Mon. My lord.
|
|
|
|
Acas. You are my daughter.
|
|
|
|
Mon. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me.
|
|
|
|
Acas. When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Now I'm undone for ever! Who on earth
|
|
Is there so wretched as Monimia?
|
|
First by Castalio cruelly forsaken;
|
|
I've lost Acasto now: his parting frowns
|
|
May well instruct me, rage is in his heart.
|
|
I shall be next abandon'd to my fortune,
|
|
Thrust out, a naked wand'rer to the world,
|
|
And branded for the mischievous Monimia!
|
|
What will become of me? My cruel brother
|
|
Is framing mischiefs, too, for aught I know,
|
|
That may produce bloodshed and horrid murder!
|
|
I would not be the cause of one man's death,
|
|
To reign the empress of the earth; nay, more,
|
|
I'd rather lose for ever my Castalio,
|
|
My dear, unkind, Castalio.[sits down.
|
|
|
|
Enter Polydore.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Monimia weeping!
|
|
I come, my love, to kiss all sorrow from thee.
|
|
What mean these sighs, and why thus beats thy heart?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Let me alone to sorrow; 'tis a cause
|
|
None e'er shall know; but it shall with me die.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Happy, Monimia, he to whom these sighs,
|
|
These tears, and all these languishings, are paid!
|
|
I know your heart was never meant for me;
|
|
That jewel's for an elder brother's price.
|
|
|
|
Mon. My lord!
|
|
|
|
Pol. Nay, wonder not; last night I heard
|
|
His oaths, your vows, and to my torment saw
|
|
Your wild embraces; heard the appointment made;
|
|
I did, Monimia, and I curs'd the sound.
|
|
Wilt thou be sworn, my love? wilt thou be ne'er
|
|
Unkind again?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Banish such fruitless hopes!
|
|
Have you sworn constancy to my undoing?
|
|
Will you be ne'er my friend again?
|
|
|
|
Pol. What means my love?
|
|
|
|
Mon. What meant my lord?
|
|
Last night?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Is that a question now to be demanded?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Was it well done
|
|
T' assault my lodging at the dead of night,
|
|
And threaten me if I deny'd admittance——
|
|
You said you were Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Pol. By those eyes,
|
|
It was the same: I spent my time much better.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Ha!—have a care!
|
|
|
|
Pol. Where is the danger near me?
|
|
|
|
Mon. I fear you're on a rock will wreck your quiet,
|
|
And drown your soul in wretchedness for ever.
|
|
A thousand horrid thoughts crowd on my memory.
|
|
Will you be kind, and answer me one question?
|
|
|
|
Pol. I'd trust thee with my life; on that soft bosom
|
|
Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart,
|
|
Till I had nothing in it left but love.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Nay, I'll conjure you, by the gods and angels,
|
|
By the honour of your name, that's most concern'd,
|
|
To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly,
|
|
Where did you rest last night?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Within thy arms.
|
|
|
|
Mon. 'Tis done.[faints.
|
|
|
|
Pol. She faints!—no help!—who waits?—A curse
|
|
Upon my vanity, that could not keep
|
|
The secret of my happiness in silence!
|
|
Confusion! we shall be surpris'd anon;
|
|
And consequently all must be betrayed.
|
|
Monimia!—she breathes!—Monimia!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Well——
|
|
Let mischiefs multiply! let every hour
|
|
Of my loath'd life yield me increase of horror!
|
|
O let the sun, to these unhappy eyes,
|
|
Ne'er shine again, but be eclips'd for ever!
|
|
May every thing I look on seem a prodigy,
|
|
To fill my soul with terrors, till I quite
|
|
Forget I ever had humanity,
|
|
And grow a curser of the works of nature!
|
|
|
|
Pol. What means all this?
|
|
|
|
Mon. O Polydore! if all
|
|
The friendship e'er you vow'd to good Castalio
|
|
Be not a falsehood; if you ever lov'd
|
|
Your brother, you've undone yourself and me.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Which way can ruin reach the man that's rich,
|
|
As I am, in possession of thy sweetness?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Oh! I'm his wife!
|
|
|
|
Pol. What says Monimia?
|
|
|
|
Mon. I am Castalio's wife!
|
|
|
|
Pol. His marry'd, wedded, wife?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Yesterday's sun
|
|
Saw it perform'd!
|
|
|
|
Pol. My brother's wife?
|
|
|
|
Mon. As surely as we both
|
|
Must taste of misery, that guilt is thine.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Oh! thou may'st yet be happy!
|
|
|
|
Mon. Couldst thou be
|
|
Happy, with such a weight upon thy soul?
|
|
|
|
Pol. It may be yet a secret—I'll go try
|
|
To reconcile and bring Castalio to thee!
|
|
Whilst from the world I take myself away,
|
|
And waste my life in penance for my sin.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Then thou wouldst more undo me: heap a load
|
|
Of added sin upon my wretched head!
|
|
Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,
|
|
And bring pollution to his arms?—Curs'd thought!
|
|
Oh! when shall I be mad indeed![exit.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Then thus I'll go;—
|
|
Full of my guilt, distracted where to roam:
|
|
I'll find some place where adders nest in winter,
|
|
Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hang
|
|
Like gums against the walls: there I'll inhabit,
|
|
And live up to the height of desperation.
|
|
Desire shall languish like a with'ring flower,
|
|
Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,
|
|
And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms.[exit.
|
|
Castalio discovered lying on the ground; soft music.
|
|
|
|
Cas. See where the deer trot after one another;
|
|
No discontent they know; but in delightful
|
|
Wildness and freedom, pleasant springs, fresh herbage,
|
|
Calm arbours, lusty health, and innocence,
|
|
Enjoy their portion:—if they see a man,
|
|
How will they turn together all, and gaze
|
|
Upon the monster!
|
|
Once in a season, too, they taste of love:
|
|
Only the beast of reason is its slave;
|
|
And in that folly drudges all the year.
|
|
|
|
Enter Acasto.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Castalio! Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Who's there
|
|
So wretched but to name Castalio?
|
|
|
|
Acas. I hope my message may succeed.
|
|
|
|
Cas. My father!
|
|
'Tis joy to see you, though where sorrow's nourish'd.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Castalio, you must go along with me,
|
|
And see Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Sure my lord but mocks me:
|
|
Go see Monimia?
|
|
|
|
Acas. I say, no more dispute.
|
|
Complaints are made to me that you have wrong'd her.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Who has complain'd?
|
|
|
|
Acas. Her brother to my face proclaim'd her wrong'd,
|
|
And in such terms they've warm'd me.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What terms? Her brother! Heaven!
|
|
Where learn'd he that?
|
|
What, does she send her hero with defiance?
|
|
He durst not sure affront you?
|
|
|
|
Acas. No, not much:
|
|
But——
|
|
|
|
Cas. Speak, what said he?
|
|
|
|
Acas. That thou wert a villain:
|
|
Methinks I would not have thee thought a villain.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Shame on the ill-manner'd brute!
|
|
Your age secur'd him; he durst not else have said.
|
|
|
|
Acas. By my sword,
|
|
I would not see thee wrong'd, and bear it vilely:
|
|
Though I have pass'd my word she shall have justice.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Justice! to give her justice would undo her.
|
|
Think you this solitude I now have chosen,
|
|
Wish'd to have grown one piece
|
|
With this cold day, and all without a cause?
|
|
|
|
Enter Chamont.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Where is the hero, famous and renown'd
|
|
For wronging innocence, and breaking vows;
|
|
Whose mighty spirit, and whose stubborn heart,
|
|
No woman can appease, nor man provoke?
|
|
|
|
Acas. I guess, Chamont, you come to seek Castalio?
|
|
|
|
Cham. I come to seek the husband of Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Cas. The slave is here.
|
|
|
|
Cham. I thought ere now to have found you
|
|
Atoning for the ills you've done Chamont:
|
|
For you have wrong'd the dearest part of him.
|
|
Monimia, young lord, weeps in this heart;
|
|
And all the tears thy injuries have drawn
|
|
From her poor eyes, are drops of blood from hence.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Then you are Chamont?
|
|
|
|
Cham. Yes, and I hope no stranger
|
|
To great Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Cas. I've heard of such a man,
|
|
That has been very busy with my honour.
|
|
I own I'm much indebted to you, sir,
|
|
And here return the villain back again
|
|
You sent me by my father.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Thus I'll thank you.[draws.
|
|
|
|
Acas. By this good sword, who first presumes to violence,
|
|
Makes me his foe.[draws and interposes.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Sir, in my younger years with care you taught me
|
|
That brave revenge was due to injur'd honour:
|
|
Oppose not then the justice of my sword,
|
|
Lest you should make me jealous of your love.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Into thy father's arms thou fly'st for safety,
|
|
Because thou know'st that place is sanctify'd
|
|
With the remembrance of an ancient friendship.
|
|
|
|
Cas. I am a villain, if I will not seek thee,
|
|
Till I may be reveng'd for all the wrongs
|
|
Done me by that ungrateful fair thou plead'st for.
|
|
|
|
Cham. She wrong'd thee? By the fury in my heart,
|
|
Thy father's honour's not above Monimia's;
|
|
Nor was thy mother's truth and virtue fairer.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Boy, don't disturb the ashes of the dead
|
|
With thy capricious follies; the remembrance
|
|
Of the lov'd creature that once fill'd these arms——
|
|
|
|
Cham. Has not been wrong'd.
|
|
|
|
Cas. It shall not.
|
|
|
|
Cham. No, nor shall
|
|
Monimia, though a helpless orphan, destitute
|
|
Of friends and fortune, though the unhappy sister
|
|
Of poor Chamont, whose sword is all his portion,
|
|
Be oppress'd by thee, thou proud, imperious traitor!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ha! set me free.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Come, both.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Sir, if you'd have me think you did not take
|
|
This opportunity to show your vanity,
|
|
Let's meet some other time, when by ourselves
|
|
We fairly may dispute our wrongs together.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Till then I am Castalio's friend.[exit.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Would I'd been absent when this boist'rous brave
|
|
Came to disturb thee thus. I'm griev'd I hinder'd
|
|
Thy just resentment——But, Monimia——
|
|
|
|
Cas. Damn her!
|
|
|
|
Acas. Don't curse her.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Did I?
|
|
|
|
Acas. Yes.
|
|
|
|
Cas. I'm sorry for't.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Methinks, if, as I guess, the fault's but small,
|
|
It might be pardon'd.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No.
|
|
|
|
Acas. What has she done?
|
|
|
|
Cas. That she's my wife, may heaven and you forgive me.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Be reconcil'd then.
|
|
|
|
Cas. No.
|
|
|
|
Acas. For my sake,
|
|
Castalio, and the quiet of my age.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Why will you urge a thing my nature starts at?
|
|
|
|
Acas. Pr'ythee, forgive her.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Lightnings first shall blast me!
|
|
I tell you, were she prostrate at my feet,
|
|
Full of her sex's best dissembled sorrows
|
|
And all that wondrous beauty of her own,
|
|
My heart might break, but it should never soften.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Did you but know the agonies she feels—
|
|
She flies with fury over all the house;
|
|
Through every room of each department, crying,
|
|
"Where's my Castalio! Give me my Castalio!"
|
|
Except she sees you, sure she'll grow distracted!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ha! will she? Does she name Castalio?
|
|
And with such tenderness? Conduct me quickly
|
|
To the poor lovely mourner.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Then wilt thou go? Blessings attend thy purpose!
|
|
|
|
Cas. I cannot hear Monimia's soul's in sadness,
|
|
And be a man: my heart will not forget her.
|
|
|
|
Acas. Delay not then; but haste and cheer thy love.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Oh! I will throw my impatient arms about her;
|
|
In her soft bosom sigh my soul to peace;
|
|
Till through the panting breast she finds the way
|
|
To mould my heart, and make it what she will.
|
|
Monimia! Oh![exeunt.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SCENE II. A CHAMBER.
|
|
|
|
Enter Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Stand off, and give me room;
|
|
I will not rest till I have found Castalio,
|
|
My wish's lord, comely as the rising day.
|
|
I cannot die in peace till I have seen him.
|
|
|
|
Enter Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Who talks of dying, with a voice so sweet
|
|
That life's in love with it?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Hark! 'tis he that answers.
|
|
Where art thou?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Here, my love.
|
|
|
|
Mon. No nearer, lest I vanish.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Have I been in a dream then all this while?
|
|
And art thou but the shadow of Monimia:
|
|
Why dost thou fly me thus?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Oh! were it possible that we could drown
|
|
In dark oblivion but a few past hours,
|
|
We might be happy.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Is't then so hard, Monimia, to forgive
|
|
A fault, when humble love, like mine, implores thee?
|
|
For I must love thee, though it prove my ruin.
|
|
I'll kneel to thee, and weep a flood before thee.
|
|
Yet pr'ythee, tyrant, break not quite my heart;
|
|
But when my task of penitence is done,
|
|
Heal it again, and comfort me with love.
|
|
|
|
Mon. If I am dumb, Castalio, and want words
|
|
To pay thee back this mighty tenderness,
|
|
It is because I look on thee with horror,
|
|
And cannot see the man I have so wrong'd.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Thou hast not wrong'd me.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Ah! alas, thou talk'st
|
|
Just as thy poor heart thinks. Have not I wrong'd thee?
|
|
|
|
Cas. No.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Still thou wander'st in the dark, Castalio;
|
|
But wilt, ere long, stumble on horrid danger.
|
|
|
|
Cas. My better angel, then do thou inform me
|
|
What danger threatens me, and where it lies;
|
|
Why wert thou (pr'ythee, smile, and tell me why)
|
|
When I stood waiting underneath the window,
|
|
Deaf to my cries, and senseless of my pains?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Did I not beg thee to forbear inquiry?
|
|
Read'st thou not something in my face, that speaks
|
|
Wonderful change, and horror from within me?
|
|
|
|
Cas. If, lab'ring in the pangs of death,
|
|
Thou wouldst do any thing to give me ease,
|
|
Unfold this riddle ere my thoughts grow wild,
|
|
And let in fears of ugly form upon me.
|
|
|
|
Mon. My heart won't let me speak it; but remember,
|
|
Monimia, poor Monimia, tells you this:
|
|
We ne'er must meet again——
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ne'er meet again?
|
|
|
|
Mon. No, never.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Where's the power
|
|
On earth, that dares not look like thee, and say so?
|
|
Thou art my heart's inheritance: I serv'd
|
|
A long and faithful slavery for thee;
|
|
And who shall rob me of the dear-bought blessing?
|
|
|
|
Mon. Time will clear all; but now let this content you:
|
|
Heaven has decreed, and therefore I've resolv'd
|
|
(With torment I must tell it thee, Castalio)
|
|
Ever to be a stranger to thy love,
|
|
In some far distant country waste my life,
|
|
And from this day to see thy face no more.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Why turn'st thou from me? I'm alone already.
|
|
Methinks I stand upon a naked beach,
|
|
Sighing to winds, and to the seas complaining,
|
|
Whilst afar off the vessel sails away,
|
|
Where all the treasure of my soul's embark'd;
|
|
Wilt thou not turn?—Oh! could those eyes but speak,
|
|
I should know all, for love is pregnant in 'em;
|
|
They swell, they press their beams upon me still:
|
|
Wilt thou not speak? If we must part for ever,
|
|
Give me but one kind word to think upon,
|
|
And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Ah! poor Castalio![exit.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What means all this? Why all this stir to plague
|
|
A single wretch? If but your word can shake
|
|
This world to atoms, why so much ado
|
|
With me? think me but dead, and lay me so.
|
|
|
|
Enter Polydore.
|
|
|
|
Pol. To live, and live a torment to myself,
|
|
What dog would bear't, that knew but his condition?
|
|
We've little knowledge, and that makes us cowards,
|
|
Because it cannot tell us what's to come.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Who's there?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Why, what art thou?
|
|
|
|
Cas. My brother Polydore?
|
|
|
|
Pol. My name is Polydore.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Canst thou inform me——
|
|
|
|
Pol. Of what?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Of my Monimia?
|
|
|
|
Pol. No. Good day!
|
|
|
|
Cas. In haste!
|
|
Methinks my Polydore appears in sadness.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Indeed! and so to me does my Castalio.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Do I?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Thou dost.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Alas, I've wondrous reason!
|
|
I'm strangely alter'd, brother, since I saw thee.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Why?
|
|
|
|
Cas. I'll tell thee, Polydore; I would repose
|
|
Within thy friendly bosom all my follies;
|
|
For thou wilt pardon 'em, because they're mine.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Be not too credulous; consider first,
|
|
Friends may be false. Is there no friendship false?
|
|
|
|
Cas. Why dost thou ask me that? Does this appear
|
|
Like a false friendship, when, with open arms
|
|
And streaming eyes, I run upon thy breast?
|
|
Oh! 'tis in thee alone I must have comfort!
|
|
|
|
Pol. I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Dost thou not love me then?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Oh, more than life;
|
|
I never had a thought of my Castalio,
|
|
Might wrong the friendship we had vow'd together.
|
|
Hast thou dealt so by me?
|
|
|
|
Cas. I hope I have.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Then tell me why, this morning, this disorder?
|
|
|
|
Cas. O Polydore, I know not how to tell thee;
|
|
Shame rises in my face, and interrupts
|
|
The story of my tongue.
|
|
|
|
Pol. I grieve, my friend
|
|
Knows any thing which he's asham'd to tell me.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Oh, much too oft. Our destiny contriv'd
|
|
To plague us both with one unhappy love!
|
|
Thou, like a friend, a constant, gen'rous friend,
|
|
In its first pangs didst trust me with thy passion,
|
|
Whilst I still smooth'd my pain with smiles before thee,
|
|
And made a contract I ne'er meant to keep.
|
|
|
|
Pol. How!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Still new ways I studied to abuse thee,
|
|
And kept thee as a stranger to my passion,
|
|
Till yesterday I wedded with Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Ah! Castalio, was that well done?
|
|
|
|
Cas. No; to conceal't from thee was much a fault.
|
|
|
|
Pol. A fault! when thou hast heard
|
|
The tale I'll tell, what wilt thou call it then?
|
|
|
|
Cas. How my heart throbs!
|
|
|
|
Pol. First, for thy friendship, traitor,
|
|
I cancel't thus: after this day I'll ne'er
|
|
Hold trust or converse with the false Castalio!
|
|
This, witness, heaven.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What will my fate do with me?
|
|
I've lost all happiness, and know not why!
|
|
What means this, brother?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Perjur'd, treach'rous wretch,
|
|
Farewell!
|
|
|
|
Cas. I'll be thy slave, and thou shalt use me
|
|
Just as thou wilt, do but forgive me.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Never.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Oh! think a little what thy heart is doing:
|
|
How, from our infancy, we hand in hand
|
|
Have trod the path of life in love together.
|
|
One bed has held us, and the same desires,
|
|
The same aversions, still employ'd our thoughts.
|
|
Whene'er had I a friend that was not Polydore's,
|
|
Or Polydore a foe that was not mine?
|
|
E'en in the womb we embrac'd; and wilt thou now,
|
|
For the first fault, abandon and forsake me?
|
|
Leave me, amidst afflictions, to myself,
|
|
Plung'd in the gulf of grief, and none to help me?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Go to Monimia; in her arms thou'lt find
|
|
Repose; she has the art of healing sorrows.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What arts?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Blind wretch! thou husband? there's a question!
|
|
Is she not a——
|
|
|
|
Cas. What?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Whore? I think that word needs no explaining.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Alas! I can forgive e'en this to thee;
|
|
But let me tell thee, Polydore, I'm griev'd
|
|
To find thee guilty of such low revenge,
|
|
To wrong that virtue which thou couldst not ruin.
|
|
|
|
Pol. It seems I lie, then!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Should the bravest man
|
|
That e'er wore conq'ring sword, but dare to whisper
|
|
What thou proclaim'st, he were the worst of liars.
|
|
My friend may be mistaken.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Damn the evasion!
|
|
Thou mean'st the worst! and he's a base-born villain
|
|
That said, I lied!
|
|
|
|
Cas. 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 the cradle by me
|
|
Plac'd some coarse peasant's cub, and thou art he!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Thou art my brother still.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Thou liest!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Nay, then——[draws.
|
|
Yet, I am calm.
|
|
|
|
Pol. A coward's always so.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ah!—ah!—that stings home! Coward!
|
|
|
|
Pol. Ay, base-born coward! villain!
|
|
|
|
Cas. This to thy heart, then, though my mother bore thee!
|
|
[they fight; Polydore runs on Castalio's sword.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Now my Castalio is again my friend.
|
|
|
|
Cas. What have I done? my sword is in thy breast.
|
|
|
|
Pol. So would I have it be, thou best of men,
|
|
Thou kindest brother, and thou truest friend!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ye gods! we're taught that all your works are justice:
|
|
Ye're painted merciful, and friends to innocence:
|
|
If so, then why these plagues upon my head?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Blame not the heav'ns, 'tis Polydore has wrong'd thee;
|
|
I've stain'd thy bed; thy spotless marriage joys
|
|
Have been polluted by thy brother's lust.
|
|
|
|
Cas. By thee?
|
|
|
|
Pol. By me, last night, the horrid deed
|
|
Was done, when all things slept but rage and incest.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Now, where's Monimia? Oh!
|
|
|
|
Enter Monimia.
|
|
|
|
Mon. I'm 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!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Ay, brother's blood!
|
|
Art thou prepar'd for everlasting pains?
|
|
|
|
Pol. Oh! let me charge thee, by th' eternal justice,
|
|
Hurt not her tender life!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Not kill her?
|
|
|
|
Mon. That task myself have finish'd: I shall die
|
|
Before we part: I've drunk a healing draught
|
|
For all my cares, and never more shall wrong thee.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Oh, she's innocent.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Tell me that story,
|
|
And thou wilt make a wretch of me, indeed.
|
|
|
|
Pol. Hadst thou, Castalio, us'd me like a friend,
|
|
This ne'er had happen'd; hadst thou let me know
|
|
Thy marriage, we had all now met in joy:
|
|
But, ignorant of that,
|
|
Hearing th' appointment made, enrag'd to think
|
|
Thou hadst undone me in successful love,
|
|
I, in the dark, went and supplied thy place;
|
|
Whilst all the night, midst our triumphant joys,
|
|
The trembling, tender, kind, deceiv'd Monimia,
|
|
Embrac'd, caress'd, and call'd me her Castalio.[dies.
|
|
|
|
Mon. Now, my Castalio, the most dear of men,
|
|
Wilt thou receive pollution to thy bosom,
|
|
And close the eyes of one that has betray'd you?
|
|
|
|
Cas. O, I'm the unhappy wretch, whose cursed fate
|
|
Has weigh'd you down into destruction with him:
|
|
Why then thus kind to me!
|
|
|
|
Mon. When I'm laid low i'th' grave, and quite forgotten,
|
|
May'st 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 hand already),
|
|
Speak well of me: and if thou find ill tongues
|
|
Too busy with my fame, don't hear me wrong'd;
|
|
'Twill be a noble justice to the memory
|
|
Of a poor wretch, once honour'd with thy love.[dies.
|
|
|
|
Enter Chamont and Acasto.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Gape, earth, and swallow me to quick destruction,
|
|
If I forgive your house!
|
|
Ye've overpower'd me now!
|
|
But, hear me, heav'n!—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 curs'd Castalio!
|
|
|
|
Cas. Stand off; thou hot-brain'd, boisterous, noisy, ruffian!
|
|
And leave me to my sorrows.
|
|
|
|
Cham. By the love
|
|
I bore her living, I will ne'er forsake her;
|
|
But here remain till my heart burst with sobbing.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Vanish, I charge thee! or—[draws a dagger.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Thou canst not kill me!
|
|
That would be a kindness, and against thy nature!
|
|
|
|
Acas. What means Castalio? Sure thou wilt not pull
|
|
More sorrows on thy aged father's head!
|
|
Tell me, I beg you, tell me the sad cause
|
|
Of all this ruin.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Thou, unkind Chamont,
|
|
Unjustly hast pursu'd me with thy hate,
|
|
And sought the life of him that never wrong'd thee:
|
|
Now, if thou wilt embrace a noble vengeance,
|
|
Come join with me, and curse——
|
|
|
|
Cham. What?
|
|
|
|
Acas. Have patience.
|
|
|
|
Cas. Patience! preach it to the winds,
|
|
To roaring seas, or raging fires! for, curs'd
|
|
As I am now, 'tis this must give me patience:
|
|
Thus I find, rest, and shall complain no more.[stabs himself.
|
|
Chamont, to thee my birthright 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 wrong'd, be kind to poor Serina——
|
|
Now all I beg is, lay me in one grave
|
|
Thus with my love: farewell! I now am nothing.[dies.
|
|
|
|
Cham. Take care of good Acasto, whilst I go
|
|
To search the means by which the fates have plagu'd us.
|
|
'Tis thus that heav'n its empire does maintain:
|
|
It may afflict; but man must not complain.[exeunt.
|
|
|