Ern.EitherMy sense has been deluded, or this wayI heard the sound of sorrow; 'tis late night,And none whose mind's at peace would wander now.Cast.Who's there?Ern.A friend.Cast.If thou art so, retire,And leave this place; for I would be alone.Ern.Castalio! My lord, why in this posture,Stretched on the ground? Your honest, true, old servant,Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus;Rise, I beseech you.Cast.If thou art Ernesto,As by thy honesty thou seem'st to be,Once 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 armsHave often borne you, pleased you in your pleasures,And sought an early share in your affection.Do not discard me now, but let me serve you.Cast.Thou canst not serve me.Ern.Why?Cast.Because my thoughtsAre full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past them.Ern.I hate the sex.Cast.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 betrayed 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 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 inclinedHer soul, and for an apple damned mankind.[Exeunt.
Ern.EitherMy sense has been deluded, or this wayI heard the sound of sorrow; 'tis late night,And none whose mind's at peace would wander now.
Cast.Who's there?
Ern.A friend.
Cast.If thou art so, retire,And leave this place; for I would be alone.
Ern.Castalio! My lord, why in this posture,Stretched on the ground? Your honest, true, old servant,Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus;Rise, I beseech you.
Cast.If thou art Ernesto,As by thy honesty thou seem'st to be,Once 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 armsHave often borne you, pleased you in your pleasures,And sought an early share in your affection.Do not discard me now, but let me serve you.
Cast.Thou canst not serve me.
Ern.Why?
Cast.Because my thoughtsAre full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past them.
Ern.I hate the sex.
Cast.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 betrayed 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 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 inclinedHer soul, and for an apple damned mankind.[Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:[20]i.e.Palm off false beauty.[21]Hears.[22]"Softest" in original edition.
[20]i.e.Palm off false beauty.
[20]i.e.Palm off false beauty.
[21]Hears.
[21]Hears.
[22]"Softest" in original edition.
[22]"Softest" in original edition.
EnterAcasto.
Acast. Blest be the morning that has brought me health;A happy rest has softened pain away,And I'll forget it, though my mind's not well:A heavy melancholy clogs my heart;I droop and sigh, I know not why. Dark dreams,Sick fancy's children, have been over-busy,And all the night played farces in my brains.Methought I heard the midnight raven cry;Waked with the imagined noise, my curtains seemedTo start, and at my feet my sons appeared,Like ghosts, all pale and stiff: I strove to speak,But could not; suddenly the forms were lost,And seemed to vanish in a bloody cloud.'Twas odd, and for the present shook my thoughts;But was the effect of my distempered blood;And, when the health's disturbed, the mind's unruly.
Acast. Blest be the morning that has brought me health;A happy rest has softened pain away,And I'll forget it, though my mind's not well:A heavy melancholy clogs my heart;I droop and sigh, I know not why. Dark dreams,Sick fancy's children, have been over-busy,And all the night played farces in my brains.Methought I heard the midnight raven cry;Waked with the imagined noise, my curtains seemedTo start, and at my feet my sons appeared,Like ghosts, all pale and stiff: I strove to speak,But could not; suddenly the forms were lost,And seemed to vanish in a bloody cloud.'Twas odd, and for the present shook my thoughts;But was the effect of my distempered blood;And, when the health's disturbed, the mind's unruly.
EnterPolydore.
Good-morning, Polydore.Pol.Heaven keep your lordship!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 chapel.[ExitPolydore.I cannot think all has gone well to-night;For as I waking lay (and sure my senseWas then my own) methought I heard my sonCastalio's voice; but it seemed low and mournful;Under my window too I thought I heard it:My untoward fancy could not be deceivedIn everything; and I will search the truth out.
Good-morning, Polydore.
Pol.Heaven keep your lordship!
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 chapel.[ExitPolydore.I cannot think all has gone well to-night;For as I waking lay (and sure my senseWas then my own) methought I heard my sonCastalio's voice; but it seemed low and mournful;Under my window too I thought I heard it:My untoward fancy could not be deceivedIn everything; and I will search the truth out.
EnterMonimiaandFlorella.
Already up, Monimia! you roseThus early surely to outshine the day!Or was there anything that crossed your rest?They were naughty thoughts that would not let you sleep.Mon.Whatever are my thoughts, my lord, I've learntBy your example to correct their ills,And morn and evening give up the account.Acast.Your pardon, sweet one; I upbraid you not;Or, if I would, you are so good I could not;Though I'm deceived, or you're more fair to-day;For beauty's heightened in your cheeks, and allYour charms seem up and ready in your eyes.Mon.The little share I have's so very meanThat it may easily admit addition;Though you, my lord, should most of all bewareTo give it too much praise, and make me proud.Acast.Proud of an old man's praises! No, Monimia!But if my prayers can do you any good,Thou shalt not want the largest share of them.Heard you no noise to-night?Mon.Noise, my good lord!Acast.Ay, 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 inquiry?[Aside.Acast.And went your maid to bed too?Mon.My lord, I guess so:I've seldom known her disobey my orders.Acast.Sure goblins then, or fairies, haunt the dwelling!I'll have inquiry 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.Mon.I'll but dispatch some orders to my woman,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't not unkind, Florella? surely 'twas!He scarce afforded one kind parting word,But went away so cold!—the kiss he gave meSeemed the forced compliment of sated love.Would I had never married!Flor.Why?Mon.MethinksThe 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.Flor.Madam, he's coming.Mon.Where, Florella? where?Is he returning? To my chamber lead;I'll meet him there: the mysteries of our loveShould be kept private as religious ritesFrom the unhallowed view of common eyes.[Exeunt.
Already up, Monimia! you roseThus early surely to outshine the day!Or was there anything that crossed your rest?They were naughty thoughts that would not let you sleep.
Mon.Whatever are my thoughts, my lord, I've learntBy your example to correct their ills,And morn and evening give up the account.
Acast.Your pardon, sweet one; I upbraid you not;Or, if I would, you are so good I could not;Though I'm deceived, or you're more fair to-day;For beauty's heightened in your cheeks, and allYour charms seem up and ready in your eyes.
Mon.The little share I have's so very meanThat it may easily admit addition;Though you, my lord, should most of all bewareTo give it too much praise, and make me proud.
Acast.Proud of an old man's praises! No, Monimia!But if my prayers can do you any good,Thou shalt not want the largest share of them.Heard you no noise to-night?
Mon.Noise, my good lord!
Acast.Ay, 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 inquiry?[Aside.
Acast.And went your maid to bed too?
Mon.My lord, I guess so:I've seldom known her disobey my orders.
Acast.Sure goblins then, or fairies, haunt the dwelling!I'll have inquiry 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.
Mon.I'll but dispatch some orders to my woman,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't not unkind, Florella? surely 'twas!He scarce afforded one kind parting word,But went away so cold!—the kiss he gave meSeemed the forced compliment of sated love.Would I had never married!
Flor.Why?
Mon.MethinksThe 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.
Flor.Madam, he's coming.
Mon.Where, Florella? where?Is he returning? To my chamber lead;I'll meet him there: the mysteries of our loveShould be kept private as religious ritesFrom the unhallowed view of common eyes.[Exeunt.
EnterCastalio.
Cast.Wished morning's come! And now, upon the plainsAnd 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 scripOf 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, raiseThe voice, and bid their fellow-brutes good-morrowThe cheerful birds too, on the tops of trees,Assemble all in quires, and with their notesSalute 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 dogLooked Hercules, thus to a distaff chained!Monimia! O Monimia!
Cast.Wished morning's come! And now, upon the plainsAnd 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 scripOf 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, raiseThe voice, and bid their fellow-brutes good-morrowThe cheerful birds too, on the tops of trees,Assemble all in quires, and with their notesSalute 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 dogLooked Hercules, thus to a distaff chained!Monimia! O Monimia!
EnterMonimiaandFlorella.
Mon.I come,I fly to my adored Castalio's arms,My wishes' lord. May every morn beginLike this; and with our days our loves renew!Now I may hope you're satisfied—[Looking languishingly on him.
Mon.I come,I fly to my adored Castalio's arms,My wishes' lord. May every morn beginLike this; and with our days our loves renew!Now I may hope you're satisfied—[Looking languishingly on him.
Cast.I amWell satisfied—that thou art—Oh!—Mon.What? speak.Art thou not well, Castalio? Come, leanUpon my breasts, and tell me where's thy pain.Cast.'Tis here; 'tis in my head; 'tis in my heart;'Tis everywhere; it rages like a madness;And I most wonder how my reason holds!Nay, wonder not, Monimia: the slaveYou thought you had secured within my breastIs 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 dreamt.What ails my love?Cast.Whate'er thy dreams have been,Thy waking thoughts ne'er meant Castalio well.No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts,They're useless all: I'm not that pliant tool,That necessary utensil you'd make me:I know my charter better—I am man,Obstinate man, and will not be enslaved.Mon.You shall not fear't: indeed my nature's easy;I'll ever live your most obedient wife,Nor ever any privilege pretendBeyond your will; for that shall be my law;—Indeed I will not.Cast.Nay, you shall not, madam;By yon bright Heaven, you shall not! All the dayI'll play the tyrant, and at night forsake thee;Till by afflictions, and continued cares,I've worn thee to a homely household drudge:Nay, if I've any too, thou shalt be madeSubservient to all my looser pleasures;For thou hast wronged Castalio.Mon.No more:Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence;I'll never quit you else, but on these kneesThus follow you all day, till they're worn bare,And hang upon you like a drowning creature.Castalio!Cast.Away! Last night, last night!Mon.It was our wedding-night.Cast.No more! forget it.Mon.Why? do you then repent?Cast.I do.Mon.O Heaven!And will you leave me thus? Help, help, Florella!
Cast.I amWell satisfied—that thou art—Oh!—
Mon.What? speak.Art thou not well, Castalio? Come, leanUpon my breasts, and tell me where's thy pain.
Cast.'Tis here; 'tis in my head; 'tis in my heart;'Tis everywhere; it rages like a madness;And I most wonder how my reason holds!Nay, wonder not, Monimia: the slaveYou thought you had secured within my breastIs 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 dreamt.What ails my love?
Cast.Whate'er thy dreams have been,Thy waking thoughts ne'er meant Castalio well.No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts,They're useless all: I'm not that pliant tool,That necessary utensil you'd make me:I know my charter better—I am man,Obstinate man, and will not be enslaved.
Mon.You shall not fear't: indeed my nature's easy;I'll ever live your most obedient wife,Nor ever any privilege pretendBeyond your will; for that shall be my law;—Indeed I will not.
Cast.Nay, you shall not, madam;By yon bright Heaven, you shall not! All the dayI'll play the tyrant, and at night forsake thee;Till by afflictions, and continued cares,I've worn thee to a homely household drudge:Nay, if I've any too, thou shalt be madeSubservient to all my looser pleasures;For thou hast wronged Castalio.
Mon.No more:Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence;I'll never quit you else, but on these kneesThus follow you all day, till they're worn bare,And hang upon you like a drowning creature.Castalio!
Cast.Away! Last night, last night!
Mon.It was our wedding-night.
Cast.No more! forget it.
Mon.Why? do you then repent?
Cast.I do.
Mon.O Heaven!And will you leave me thus? Help, help, Florella!
[He drags her to the door, breaks from her, and exit.
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 fomented, let my heart swell on,Till with its injuries it burst, and shake,With the dire blow, this prison to the earth.Flor.What sad mistake has been the cause of this?Mon.Castalio! Oh, how often has he sworeNature 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.Flor.Unhappy day!Mon.False as the wind, the water, 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?
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 fomented, let my heart swell on,Till with its injuries it burst, and shake,With the dire blow, this prison to the earth.
Flor.What sad mistake has been the cause of this?
Mon.Castalio! Oh, how often has he sworeNature 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.
Flor.Unhappy day!
Mon.False as the wind, the water, 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?
EnterChamont.
Cham.In tears, Monimia?Mon.Whoe'er thou art,Leave me alone to my beloved despair.Cham.Lift up thy eyes, and see who comes to cheer thee.Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and thenSee if my soul has rest till thou hast justice.Mon.My brother!Cham.Yes, Monimia, if thou think'stThat I deserve the name, I am thy brother.Mon.O Castalio!Cham.Ha!Name me that name again! My soul's on fireTill I know all: there's meaning in that name.I know he is thy husband; therefore trust meWith 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.Cham.You use me ill, Monimia;And I might think, with justice, most severelyOf 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 earthFor 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 concealed my soul from you before:Bear with me now, and search my wounds no farther;For every probing pains me to the heart.Cham.'Tis sign there's danger in't must be prevented.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; dear as the lightTo eyes but just restored, and healed of blindness.Why wilt thou not repose within my breastThe anguish that torments thee?Mon.Oh! I dare not.Cham.I have no friend but thee; we must confideIn one another. Two unhappy orphans,Alas, we are; and, when I see thee grieve,Methinks it is a part of me that suffers.Mon.Oh, shouldst thou know the cause of my lamenting,I'm satisfied, Chamont, that thou wouldst scorn me;Thou wouldst despise the abject, lost Monimia;No more wouldst praise this hated beauty; butWhen in some cell, distracted, as I shall be,Thou seest me lie, these unregarded locksMatted like furies' tresses; my poor limbsChained to the ground; and, 'stead of the delightsWhich happy lovers taste, my keeper's stripes,A bed of straw, and a coarse wooden dishOf wretched sustenance;—when thus thou seest me,Pr'ythee have charity and pity for me:Let me enjoy this thought!Cham.Why wilt thou rackMy soul so long, Monimia? Ease me quickly;Or thou wilt run me into madness first.Mon.Could you be secret?Cham.Secret as the grave.Mon.But when I've told you, will you keep your furyWithin its bounds? will you not do some rashAnd horrid mischief? for, indeed, Chamont,You would not think how hardly I've been usedFrom a near friend; from one that has my soulA slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.Cham.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 tremblingWith 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 lasts, I'm sure must break my heart.Cham.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 armsRan 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 tooUpon his knees, and begged to know the cause,He dragged me like a slave upon the earth,And had no pity on my cries.Cham.How! did heDash thee disdainfully away with scorn?Mon.He did; and more, I fear will ne'er be friends,Though I still love him with unbated passion.Cham.What, throw thee from him!Mon.Yes, indeed, he did.Cham.So may this armThrow 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 ne'erClasp him again within these longing arms,Yet bless him, bless him, gods, where'er he goes!
Cham.In tears, Monimia?
Mon.Whoe'er thou art,Leave me alone to my beloved despair.
Cham.Lift up thy eyes, and see who comes to cheer thee.Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and thenSee if my soul has rest till thou hast justice.
Mon.My brother!
Cham.Yes, Monimia, if thou think'stThat I deserve the name, I am thy brother.
Mon.O Castalio!
Cham.Ha!Name me that name again! My soul's on fireTill I know all: there's meaning in that name.I know he is thy husband; therefore trust meWith 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.
Cham.You use me ill, Monimia;And I might think, with justice, most severelyOf 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 earthFor 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 concealed my soul from you before:Bear with me now, and search my wounds no farther;For every probing pains me to the heart.
Cham.'Tis sign there's danger in't must be prevented.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; dear as the lightTo eyes but just restored, and healed of blindness.Why wilt thou not repose within my breastThe anguish that torments thee?
Mon.Oh! I dare not.
Cham.I have no friend but thee; we must confideIn one another. Two unhappy orphans,Alas, we are; and, when I see thee grieve,Methinks it is a part of me that suffers.
Mon.Oh, shouldst thou know the cause of my lamenting,I'm satisfied, Chamont, that thou wouldst scorn me;Thou wouldst despise the abject, lost Monimia;No more wouldst praise this hated beauty; butWhen in some cell, distracted, as I shall be,Thou seest me lie, these unregarded locksMatted like furies' tresses; my poor limbsChained to the ground; and, 'stead of the delightsWhich happy lovers taste, my keeper's stripes,A bed of straw, and a coarse wooden dishOf wretched sustenance;—when thus thou seest me,Pr'ythee have charity and pity for me:Let me enjoy this thought!
Cham.Why wilt thou rackMy soul so long, Monimia? Ease me quickly;Or thou wilt run me into madness first.
Mon.Could you be secret?
Cham.Secret as the grave.
Mon.But when I've told you, will you keep your furyWithin its bounds? will you not do some rashAnd horrid mischief? for, indeed, Chamont,You would not think how hardly I've been usedFrom a near friend; from one that has my soulA slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.
Cham.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 tremblingWith 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 lasts, I'm sure must break my heart.
Cham.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 armsRan 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 tooUpon his knees, and begged to know the cause,He dragged me like a slave upon the earth,And had no pity on my cries.
Cham.How! did heDash thee disdainfully away with scorn?
Mon.He did; and more, I fear will ne'er be friends,Though I still love him with unbated passion.
Cham.What, throw thee from him!
Mon.Yes, indeed, he did.
Cham.So may this armThrow 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 ne'erClasp him again within these longing arms,Yet bless him, bless him, gods, where'er he goes!
EnterAcasto.
Acast.Sure some ill fate is towards me; in my houseI only meet with oddness and disorder:Each vassal has a wild distracted face,And looks as full of business as a blockheadIn times of danger: just this very momentI met Castalio—Cham.Then you met a villain.Acast.Ha!Cham.Yes, a villain.Acast.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!Acast.Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old friendWas ne'er thy father; nothing of him's in thee:What have I done in my unhappy age,To be thus used? I scorn to upbraid thee, boy;But I could put thee in remembrance—Cham.Do.Acast.I scorn it!Cham.No, I'll calmly hear the story;For I would fain know all, to see which scaleWeighs most—Ha! is not that good old Acasto?What have I done?—can you forgive this folly?Acast.Why dost thou ask it?Cham.'Twas the rude o'erflowingOf too much passion; pray, my lord, forgive me.[Kneels.Acast.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.Acast.I will; but henceforth, pr'ythee, be more kind.
Acast.Sure some ill fate is towards me; in my houseI only meet with oddness and disorder:Each vassal has a wild distracted face,And looks as full of business as a blockheadIn times of danger: just this very momentI met Castalio—
Cham.Then you met a villain.
Acast.Ha!
Cham.Yes, a villain.
Acast.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!
Acast.Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old friendWas ne'er thy father; nothing of him's in thee:What have I done in my unhappy age,To be thus used? I scorn to upbraid thee, boy;But I could put thee in remembrance—
Cham.Do.
Acast.I scorn it!
Cham.No, I'll calmly hear the story;For I would fain know all, to see which scaleWeighs most—Ha! is not that good old Acasto?What have I done?—can you forgive this folly?
Acast.Why dost thou ask it?
Cham.'Twas the rude o'erflowingOf too much passion; pray, my lord, forgive me.[Kneels.
Acast.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.
Acast.I will; but henceforth, pr'ythee, be more kind.
[Raises him.
Whence came the cause?Cham.Indeed I've been to blame:But I'll learn better; for you've been my father:You've been her father too—[TakesMonimiaby the hand.
Whence came the cause?
Cham.Indeed I've been to blame:But I'll learn better; for you've been my father:You've been her father too—[TakesMonimiaby the hand.
Acast.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 frostHad 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;Till, at the last, a cruel spoiler came,Cropped this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,Then cast it, like a loathsome weed, away.Acast.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 honestyNeeds no disguise nor ornament. Be plain.Cham.Your son—Acast.I've two; and both, I hope, have honour.Cham.I hope so too—but—Acast.Speak.Cham.I must inform you,Once more, Castalio—Acast.Still Castalio!Cham.Yes.Your son Castalio has wronged Monimia.Acast.Ha! wronged her?Cham.Married her.Acast.I'm sorry for't.Cham.Why sorry? By yon blest Heaven! there's not a lordBut might be proud to take her to his heart.Acast.I'll not deny't.Cham.You dare not; by the gods!You dare not; all your family, combinedIn one damned falsehood to out-do Castalio,Dare not deny't.Acast.How has Castalio wronged her?Cham.Ask that of him: I say, my sister's wronged;Monimia, my sister, born as highAnd noble as Castalio. Do her justice,Or, by the gods! I'll lay a scene of bloodShall 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.Acast.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 repeatThe cause of this: I beg you (to preserveYour house's honour) ask it of Castalio.Acast.I will.Cham.Till then, farewell![Exit.Acast.Farewell, proud boy!Monimia!Mon.My lord.Acast.You are my daughter.Mon.I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me.Acast.When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father.[Exit.Mon.Now I'm undone for ever: who on earthIs there so wretched as Monimia?First by Castalio cruelly forsaken;I've lost Acasto now: his parting frownsMay well instruct me rage is in his heart:I shall be next abandoned to my fortune,Thrust out a naked wanderer to the world,And branded for the mischievous Monimia!What will become of me? My cruel brotherIs 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!
Acast.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 frostHad 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;Till, at the last, a cruel spoiler came,Cropped this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,Then cast it, like a loathsome weed, away.
Acast.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 honestyNeeds no disguise nor ornament. Be plain.
Cham.Your son—
Acast.I've two; and both, I hope, have honour.
Cham.I hope so too—but—
Acast.Speak.
Cham.I must inform you,Once more, Castalio—
Acast.Still Castalio!
Cham.Yes.Your son Castalio has wronged Monimia.
Acast.Ha! wronged her?
Cham.Married her.
Acast.I'm sorry for't.
Cham.Why sorry? By yon blest Heaven! there's not a lordBut might be proud to take her to his heart.
Acast.I'll not deny't.
Cham.You dare not; by the gods!You dare not; all your family, combinedIn one damned falsehood to out-do Castalio,Dare not deny't.
Acast.How has Castalio wronged her?
Cham.Ask that of him: I say, my sister's wronged;Monimia, my sister, born as highAnd noble as Castalio. Do her justice,Or, by the gods! I'll lay a scene of bloodShall 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.
Acast.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 repeatThe cause of this: I beg you (to preserveYour house's honour) ask it of Castalio.
Acast.I will.
Cham.Till then, farewell![Exit.
Acast.Farewell, proud boy!Monimia!
Mon.My lord.
Acast.You are my daughter.
Mon.I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me.
Acast.When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father.[Exit.
Mon.Now I'm undone for ever: who on earthIs there so wretched as Monimia?First by Castalio cruelly forsaken;I've lost Acasto now: his parting frownsMay well instruct me rage is in his heart:I shall be next abandoned to my fortune,Thrust out a naked wanderer to the world,And branded for the mischievous Monimia!What will become of me? My cruel brotherIs 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!
EnterPolydore.
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 causeNone 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 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 heardHis oaths, your vows, and to my torment sawYour wild embraces; heard the appointment made:I did, Monimia, and I cursed the sound.Wilt thou be sworn my love? wilt thou be ne'erUnkind again?Mon.Banish such fruitless hopes:Have you sworn constancy to my undoing?Will you be ne'er my friend again?Pol.What meansMy 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!It was the same; I spent my time much better;I tell thee, ill-natured fair one, I was postedTo more advantage,—on a pleasant hillOf springing joy, and everlasting sweetness.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 those soft breastsBreathe 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 concerned,To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly,Where did you rest last night?Pol.Within thy armsI triumphed: rest had been my foe.Mon.'Tis done.[She faints.Pol.She faints! No help! Who waits? A curseUpon my vanity, that could not keepThe secret of my happiness in silence.Confusion! we shall be surprised anon;And consequently all must be betrayed.Monimia!—she breathes.—Monimia!Mon.Well;Let mischiefs multiply! Let every hourOf my loathed life yield me increase of horror!Oh, let the sun to these unhappy eyesNe'er shine again, but be eclipsed for ever!May every thing I look on seem a prodigy,To fill my soul with terrors, till I quiteForget I ever had humanity,And grow a curser of the works of nature!Pol.What means all this?Mon.Oh, Polydore, if allThe friendship e'er you vowed to good CastalioBe not a falsehood; if you ever lovedYour 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? ha!Speak that again.Mon.I am Castalio's wife.Pol. His married, wedded wife?Mon.Yesterday's sunSaw it performed.Pol.And then have I enjoyedMy brother's wife?Mon.As surely as we bothMust taste of misery, that guilt is thine.Pol.Must we be miserable then?Mon.Oh!Pol. Oh! thou mayst yet be happy.Mon.Couldst thou beHappy, with such a weight upon thy soul?Pol.It may be yet a secret: I'll go tryTo 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 loadOf added sins upon my wretched head:Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,And bring pollution to his arms? curst thought!Oh, when shall I be mad indeed!Pol.Nay, then,Let us embrace, and from this very momentVow an eternal misery together.Mon.And wilt thou be a very faithful wretch?Never grow fond of cheerful peace again?Wilt thou with me study to be unhappy,And find out ways how to increase affliction?Pol.We'll institute new arts unknown beforeTo vary plagues, and make them look like new ones.First, if, the fruit of our detested joy,A child be born, it shall be murdered—Mon.No;Sure that may live?Pol.Why?Mon.To become a thingMore wretched than its parents; to be brandedWith all our infamy, and curse its birth.Pol.That's well contrived; then thus let's go together,Full of our guilt, distracted where to roam,Like the first wretched pair expelled their paradise.Let's find some place where adders nest in winter,Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hangLike gums against the walls; where witches meetBy night, and feed upon some pampered imp,Fat with the blood of babes: there we'll inhabit,And live up to the height of desperation.Desire shall languish like a withering flower,And no distinction of the sex be thought of.Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms;But when I'm dying, take me in thy arms![Exeunt.
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 causeNone 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 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 heardHis oaths, your vows, and to my torment sawYour wild embraces; heard the appointment made:I did, Monimia, and I cursed the sound.Wilt thou be sworn my love? wilt thou be ne'erUnkind again?
Mon.Banish such fruitless hopes:Have you sworn constancy to my undoing?Will you be ne'er my friend again?
Pol.What meansMy 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!It was the same; I spent my time much better;I tell thee, ill-natured fair one, I was postedTo more advantage,—on a pleasant hillOf springing joy, and everlasting sweetness.
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 those soft breastsBreathe 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 concerned,To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly,Where did you rest last night?
Pol.Within thy armsI triumphed: rest had been my foe.
Mon.'Tis done.[She faints.
Pol.She faints! No help! Who waits? A curseUpon my vanity, that could not keepThe secret of my happiness in silence.Confusion! we shall be surprised anon;And consequently all must be betrayed.Monimia!—she breathes.—Monimia!
Mon.Well;Let mischiefs multiply! Let every hourOf my loathed life yield me increase of horror!Oh, let the sun to these unhappy eyesNe'er shine again, but be eclipsed for ever!May every thing I look on seem a prodigy,To fill my soul with terrors, till I quiteForget I ever had humanity,And grow a curser of the works of nature!
Pol.What means all this?
Mon.Oh, Polydore, if allThe friendship e'er you vowed to good CastalioBe not a falsehood; if you ever lovedYour 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? ha!Speak that again.
Mon.I am Castalio's wife.
Pol. His married, wedded wife?
Mon.Yesterday's sunSaw it performed.
Pol.And then have I enjoyedMy brother's wife?
Mon.As surely as we bothMust taste of misery, that guilt is thine.
Pol.Must we be miserable then?
Mon.Oh!
Pol. Oh! thou mayst yet be happy.
Mon.Couldst thou beHappy, with such a weight upon thy soul?
Pol.It may be yet a secret: I'll go tryTo 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 loadOf added sins upon my wretched head:Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,And bring pollution to his arms? curst thought!Oh, when shall I be mad indeed!
Pol.Nay, then,Let us embrace, and from this very momentVow an eternal misery together.
Mon.And wilt thou be a very faithful wretch?Never grow fond of cheerful peace again?Wilt thou with me study to be unhappy,And find out ways how to increase affliction?
Pol.We'll institute new arts unknown beforeTo vary plagues, and make them look like new ones.First, if, the fruit of our detested joy,A child be born, it shall be murdered—
Mon.No;Sure that may live?
Pol.Why?
Mon.To become a thingMore wretched than its parents; to be brandedWith all our infamy, and curse its birth.
Pol.That's well contrived; then thus let's go together,Full of our guilt, distracted where to roam,Like the first wretched pair expelled their paradise.Let's find some place where adders nest in winter,Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hangLike gums against the walls; where witches meetBy night, and feed upon some pampered imp,Fat with the blood of babes: there we'll inhabit,And live up to the height of desperation.Desire shall languish like a withering flower,And no distinction of the sex be thought of.Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms;But when I'm dying, take me in thy arms![Exeunt.