[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 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 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.

SCENE I-A Saloon.

ACASTO solus.

Acast. Have you yet seen Castalio to-day? Pol. My lord, 'tis early day; he's hardly risen. Acast. Go, call him up, and meet me in the [Exit Polydore.

chapel.

I cannot think all has gone well to-night;
For as I waking lay (and sure my sense
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
In every thing, and I will search the truth out.
Enter MONIMIA.

Already up, Monimia! you rose
Thus early, sure, to outshine the day:
Or was there any thing, that crossed your rest?
They were naughty thoughts, that would not let
you sleep.

Mon. Whatever are my thoughts, my lord, I

have learnt

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,
Thou shalt not want the largest share of them.
Heard you no noise to-night?

Mon. Noise! my good lord!
Acast. About midnight.

Mon. Indeed, my lord, I don't remember any. Acast. You must, sure! went you early to your rest?

Mon. About the wonted hour. Why this enquiry?

[Aside.

Acast. And went your maid to bed, too?
Mon. My lord, I guess so;

I have seldom known her disobey my orders. Acast. Sure, goblins then, or fairies haunt the dwelling;

I'll have enquiry made through all the house,
But I'll find out the cause of these disorders.
Good-day to thee, Monimia—I'll to chapel.
[Exit Acasto.
Mon. I'll but dispatch some orders to my

woman,

Enter FLORELLA.

And wait upon your lordship there.

I fear the priest has played us false; if so,
My poor Castalio loses all for me;

I wonder though he made such haste to leave me ;
Was it not unkind, Florella? Surely it was!
He scarce afforded one kind parting word,
But went away so cold; the kiss he gave me,
Seemed the forced compliment of sated love.
Would I had never married!

Maid. Why?

Mon. Methinks

The scene's quite altered; I am not the same;
I've bound up for myself a weight of cares,
And how the burden will be borne, none knows.
A husband may be jealous, rigid, false!
And should Castalio e'er prove so to me,
So tender is my heart, so nice my love,
Twould ruin and distract my rest for ever.
Maid. Madam, he's coming.
Mon. Where, Florella? where?
Is he returning? To my chamber lead;
I'll meet him there; the mysteries of our love
Should be kept private as religious rites,
From the unhallowed view of common eyes.
[Exit Mon. and Maid.

SCENE II-A Chamber.

Enter CASTALIO.

And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks,

The happy shepherds leave their homely huts,
And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day.
The lusty swain comes with his well-filled scrip
Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls,
With much content and appetite he eats,
To follow in the fields his daily toil,
And dress the grateful glebe, that yields him
fruits.

The beasts, that under the warm hedges slept,
And weathered out the cold bleak night, are up,
And, looking towards the neighbouring pastures,
raise

Their voice, and bid their fellow brutes good- .

morrow;

The cheerful birds too, on the tops of trees,
Assemble all in choirs, and with their notes
Salute and welcome up the rising sun.
There's no condition sure so cursed as mine!
I'm married! 'Sdeath! I'm sped. How like a
dog

Looked Hercules, thus to a distaff chained!
Monimia! Oh, Monimia!

Enter MONIMIA and MAID.
Mon. I come,

I fly to my adored Castalio's arms,
My wishes' lord. May every morn begin
Like this; and with our days our loves renew!
Now I may hope you are satisfied-

Cast. I am

[Looking languishingly on him.

Well satisfied, that thou art-Oh-
Mon. What? speak:

Art thou not well, Castalio? Come, lean
Upon my breast, and tell me where's thy pain.
Cast. '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.
Nay, wonder not, Monimia: the slave,
You thought you had secured within my breast,
Is grown a rebel, and has broke his chain,
And now he walks there like a lord at large.

Mon. Am I not then your wife, your loved
Monimia?

I once was so, or I've most strangely dreamed.
What ails my love?

Cust. Whate'er thy dreams have been, Thy waking thoughts ne'er meant Castalio well. No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts! They are useless all. I am 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 it: indeed my nature's

easy;

I'll ever live your most obedient wife! Nor ever any privilege pretend

the plains

Indeed I will not.

VOL. I.

A a

And will you leave me thus? help, help, Florella! [He drags her to the door, breaks from her, and erit.

Help me to hold this yet loved cruel man. Oh, my heart breaks-I'm dying. Oh-stand off;

I'll not indulge this woman's weakness; still Chafed and tormented let my heart swell on, 'Till with its injuries it burst, and shake With the dire blow this prison to the earth. Maid. What sad mistake has been the cause of this?

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!

Make haste, confusion, then; sun, lose thy light, And stars drop dead with sorrow to the earth;

For

iny Castalio's false.

Maid. Unhappy day!

Mon. 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? [Sits down.]

Enter CHAMONT.

Cha. In tears, Monimia !

Mon. Whoe'er thou art,

[Exit Florella.

Leave me alone to my beloved despair.

Cha. 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!

Cha. Yes, Monimia, if thou thinkest
That I deserve the name, I am thy brother.
Mon. Oh, Castalio!

Cha. 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 all the following truth!

Mon. Indeed, Chamont,

There's nothing in it but the fault of nature;
I'm often thus seized suddenly with grief,
I know not why.

Cha. 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?

Cha. Not, if I'd cause to think it was a friend.
Mon. Why do you then call this unfaithful
dealing?

I ne'er concealed my soul from you before: Bear with me now, and search my wounds no farther;

For every probing pains me to the heart.

Cha. 'Tis sign there's danger in it, and must be probed.

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 it not so?

Mon. I cannot speak! grief flows so fast upon

Cha. Why wilt thou rack

My soul so long, Monimia? Ease me quickly;
Or thou wilt run me into madness first.

Mon. Could you be secret?
Cha. Secret as the grave.

Mon. But when I have told you, will you keep your fury

Within its bonds? Will you not do some rash
And horrid mischief? For indeed, Chamont,

You would not think how hardly I've been used
From a near friend, from one, that has my soul
A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.

Cha. I will be calm-but has Castalio wronged 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!
Cha. What?

Mon. I fear he'll kill me.

Cha. Ha!

Mon. Indeed I do; he's strangely cruel to me; Which, if it last, I'm sure must break my heart. Cha. What has he done?

Mon. Most barbarously used me. Nothing so kind as he, when in my arms! In thousand kisses, tender sighs and joys, Not to be thought again, the night was wasted; At dawn of day he rose, and left his conquest. But, when we met, and I, with open arms, Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes, Oh, then!

Cha. Go on!

Mon. He threw me from his breast, Like a detested sin.

Cha. How!

Mon. As I hung too

Upon his knees, and begged to know the cause, He dragged me like a slave upon the earth, And had no pity on my cries.

Cha. How did he

Dash thee disdainfully away? with scorn?

Mon. He did! and more, I fear, will ne'er be friends,

Though I still love him with unabated passion.
Cha. What, throw thee from him!
Mon. Yes, indeed he did.

Cha. So may this arm

Throw him to the earth, like a dead dog despised! 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 concealed? Why shouldst thou kill him?

By all my love, this arm should do him vengeance.
Alas! I love him still, and though I nc'er
Clasp him again within these longing arms,

I only meet with oddness and disorder;
Each vassal has a wild distracted face,
And looks as full of business as a blockhead
In times of danger. Just this very moment
I met Castalio-

Cha. Then you met a villain.
Acast. Ha!

Cha. Yes, a villain.

Acast. Have a care, young soldier,

How thou art too busy with Acasto's fame.
I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance;
Villain to thee!

Cha. Curse on thy scandalous age,
Which hinders me to rush upon thy throat,
And tear the root up of that cursed bramble!
Acust. Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old

friend

You have been her father too

[Takes Mon. by the hand.
Acast. Forbear the prologue—
And let me know the substance of thy tale.
Cha. You took her up, a little tender flower,
Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost
Had nipped; and, with a careful loving hand,
Transplanted her into your own fair garden,
Where the sun always shines. There long she
flourished,

Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye;
'Til at the last a cruel spoiler came,
Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then cast it, like a loathsome weed, away.

Acast. You talk to me in parables, Chamont,

Cha. Married her.

Acast. I am sorry for it.
Cha. Why sorry?

By yon blest heaven, there's not a lord
But might be proud to take her to his heart!
Acast. I'll not deny it.

Cha. You dare not; all your family combined In one damned falsehood to outdo Castalio, Dare not deny it.

Acast. How has Castalio wronged her?

Cha. Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wronged:

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 it. Hark you, my lord! your son Castalio;
Take him to your closet, and there teach him

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 would rather lose, for ever, my Castalio,
My dear unkind Castalio!

Enter POLYDORE.

Pol. Monimia, weeping!

So morning dews on new-blown roses lodge,
By the sun's amorous heat to be exhaled.
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 ere 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 am no stranger to your dearest secret: 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 cursed the sound.
Wilt thou be sworn, my love? wilt thou be ne'er
Unkind again?

Mon. Banish such fruitless hopes!
Have you swore constancy to my undoing?
Will you be ne'er my friend again?
Pol. What means my love?

Mon. Away; what meant my lord
Last night?

Pol. Is that a question now to be demanded? I hope Monimia was not much displeased. Mon. Was it well done to treat me like a prostitute?

To assault my lodging at the dead of night,
And threaten me, if I denied admittance-
You said you were Castalio-

Pol. By those eyes

Mon. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to

To more advantage, on a pleasant hill
Of springing joy, and everlasting sweetness.
Mon. Ha-have a care

Pol. Where is the danger near me?

Mon. I fear you are 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'll trust thee with my life; on those soft breasts

Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart, Till I have nothing in my heart but love.

Mon. Nay, I'll conjure you by the gods and

angels,

By the honour of your name, that's most concerned,