THE ORPHAN: OR, THE Unhappy-Marriage: A TRAGEDY, As it is Acted At His ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE's Theatre.  
Written by THO. OTWAY.  

Qui Pelago credit magno, se foenore tollit;  
Qui Pugnas & Castra petit, praecingitur Auro;  
Vilis Adulator picto jacet Ebrius Ostro;  
Et qui sollicitat Nuptas, ad praemia peccat:  
Sola pruinosis horret Facundia pannis,  
Atque inopi lingua desertas invocat Artes.   Petron. Arb. Sat. 
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, and M. Magnes, in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden, 1680.   

TO HER Royal Highness THE DUCHESS.  
Madam,  
AFTER having a great while wished to write something that might be worthy to lay at your highness's Feet, and finding it impossible: Since the World has been so kind to me to Judge of this Poem to my advantage, as the most pardonable fault which I have made in its kind; I had sinned against myself, if I had not chosen this Opportunity to implore (what my Ambition is most fond of) your Favour and Protection.  
For though Fortune would not so far bless my endeavours, as to encourage them with your Royal highness's presence, when this came into the World: Yet, I cannot but declare it was my design and hopes it might have been your Divertisement in that happy season, when you returned again to cheer all those eyes that had before wept for your Departure, and enliven all hearts that had drooped for your Absence: When Wit ought to have paid its Choicest Tributes in, and Joy have known no Limits, than I hoped my little Mite would not have been rejected; though my ill Fortune was too hard for me, and I lost a greater Honour, by your Royal highness's Absence, than all the Applauses of the World besides can make me Reparation for.  
Nevertheless, I thought myself not quite unhappy, so long as I had hopes this way yet to recompense my disappointment past: When I considered also that Poetry might claim right to a little share in your Favour: For Tasso, and Ariosto, some of the best, have made their Names Eternal, by transmitting to after-Ages the Glory of your Ancestors: And under the spreading of that shade, where two of the best have planted their Laurels, how Honoured should I be, who am the worst, if but a branch might grow for me.  
I dare not think of offering at any thing in this Address, that might look like a Panegyric, for fear lest when I have done my best, the World should Condemn me, for saying too little, and you yourself check me, for meddling with a Task unfit for my Talon.  
For the description of Virtues, and Perfections so rare as yours are, aught to be done by as deliberate, as skilful a Hand; the Features must be drawn very fine, to be like, hasty daubing would but spoil the Picture, and make it so unnatural, as must want false lights to set it off: And your Virtue can receive no more Lustre from Praises, than your Beauty can be improved by Art; which as it Charms the bravest Prince that ever amazed the World with his Virtue: So let but all other Hearts inquire into themselves, and then Judge how it ought to be praised.  
Your Love too, as none but that great Hero who has it could deserve it, and therefore, by a particular Lot from Heaven, was destined to so extraordinary a blessing, so matchless for itself, and so wondrous for its Constancy, shall be remembered to your Immortal Honour, when all other Transactions of the Age you live in shall be forgotten.  
But I forget that I am to ask Pardon for the fault I have been all this while Committing: wherefore I beg your Highness to forgive me this presumption, and that you will be pleased to think well of one who cannot help resolving with all the Actions of Life, to endeavour to deserve it: Nay more, I would beg, and hope it may be granted, that I may through yours never want an Advocate in his Favour, whose Heart, and Mind, you have so entire a share in; it is my only Portion and my Fortune; I cannot but be happy, so long as I have but hopes I may enjoy it, and I must be Miserable, should it ever be my ill Fate to lose it.  
This, with Eternal wishes for your Royal highness's Content, Happiness, and Prosperity, in all Humility is presented by  
Your most obedient and devoted Servant, THO. OTWAY.   

The Persons Represented in the Tragedy.  

MEN.  
ACasto, A Nobleman retired from Court, and living privately in the Country. By Mr. Gillow.  
Castalio, His Son. By Mr. Betterton.  
Polydore, His Son. By Mr. Io. Williams.  
Chamount, A young Soldier of Fortune. By Mr. Smith.  
Ernesto, Servant in the Family. By Mr. Norris.  
Paulino, Servant in the Family. By Mr. Wiltshire.  
Cordelio, Polydore's Page. By the little Girl.  
Chaplain. By Mr. Percival.   

WOMEN.  
Monimia, The Orphan, left under the Guardian-ship of old Acasto. By Mrs. Barry.  
Serina, Acasto's Daughter. By Mrs. Boteler.  
Florella, Monimia's Woman. By Mrs. Osborn.   
SCENE, BOHEMIA.   

Prologue.  
TO you, great judges in this Writing Age,  
The sons of Wit, and Patrons of the Stage,  
With all those humble thoughts, which still have swayed  
His Pride, much doubting, trembling and afraid  
Of what is to his want of merit due,  
And awed by every Excellence in you,  
The Author sends to beg you would be kind,  
And spare those many faults you needs must find.  
You to whom Wit a Common Foe is grown,  
The thing ye scorn, and publicly disown;  
Though now perhaps you're here for other ends,  
He swears to me, you ought to be his Friends:  
For he ne'er called ye yet insipid Tools;  
Nor wrote one line to tell you ye were Fools:  
But says of Wit ye have so large a store,  
So very much, you never will have more.  
He ne'er with Libel treated yet the Town,  
The names of Honest men bedaubed and shown,  
Nay, never once lampooned the harmless life  
Of Suburb Virgin, or of City Wife:  
Satyr's the effect of Poetries disease;  
Which, sick of a lewd Age, she vents for Ease,  
But now her only strife should be to please.  
Since of ill Fate the baneful Cloud's withdrawn;  
And happiness again begins to dawn,  
Since back with Joy and Triumph he is come,  
That always drove Fears hence, ne'er brought 'em home.  
Oft has he ploughed the boisterous Ocean o'er,  
Yet ne'er more welcome to the longing shore,  
Not when he brought home Victories before.  
For than fresh Laurels flourished on his Brow,  
And he comes Crowned with Olive-branches now.  
Receive him! Oh receive him as his Friends;  
Embrace the blessings which be Recommends;  
Such quiet as your Foes shall ne'er destroy;  
Then shake off Fears, and clap your hands for joy..   

THE ORPHAN.  
ACT I. SCENE I.  Enter Paulino and Ernesto. Paul. 
'TIs strange, Ernesto, this severity  
Should still reign powerful in Acasto's mind,  
To hate the Court where he  
Was bred and lived,  
All Honours heaped on him that Power could give.  Ernest. 
'Tis true, He came thither a private Gentleman,  
But young and brave, and of a Family  
Ancient and Noble as the Empire holds.  
The Honours he has gained are justly his;  
He purchased them in War; thrice has he led  
An Army against the Rebels, and as often  
Returned with Victory; the world has not  
A truer Soldier, or a better Subject.  Paul. 
It was his Virtue that first made me serve him;  
He is the best of Masters as of Friends.  
I know he has lately been invited thither;  
Yet still he keeps his stubborn purpose, cries,  
He's old, and willingly would be at rest;  
I doubt there's deep resentment in his mind,  
For the late slight his Honour suffered there.  Ernest. 
Has he not▪ reason! When for what he had born  
Long, hard, and faithful Toil, he might have claimed  
Places in Honour, and employment high;  
A huffing shining flattering cringing Coward,  
A Canker-worm of Peace was raised above him.  Paul. 
Yet still he holds Just value for the King,  
Nor ever Names him but with highest reverence.  
'Tis Noble that—  Ern. 
Oh! I have heard him wanton in his praise,  
Speak things of him might Charm the Ears of envy.  Paul. 
Oh may he live till Nature's self grow old,  
And from her Womb no more can bless the Earth!  
For when he dies, farewell all Honour, Bounty,  
All generous encouragement of Arts,  
For Charity herself becomes a Widow.  Ern. 
No, he has two Sons that were ordained to be  
As well his Virtues, as his Fortune's Heirs.  Paul. 
They're both of Nature mild, and full of sweetness.  
They came Twins from the Womb, and still they live,  
As if they would go Twins too the Grave:  
Neither has any thing he calls his own,  
But of each others joys as griefs partaking;  
So very honestly, so well they love,  
As they were only for each other born.  Ern. 
Never was Parent in an Offspring happier,  
He has a Daughter too, whose blooming Age  
Promises Goodness equal to her Beauty.  Paul. 
And as there is a Friendship 'twixt the Brethren,  
So has her Infant Nature chosen too  
A faithful partner of her thoughts and wishes,  
And kind Companion of her harmless pleasures.  Ern. 
You mean the Beauteous Orphan, fair Monimia.  Paul. 
The same, the Daughter of the brave Chamont.  
He was our Lord's Companion in the Wars,  
Where such a wondrous friendship grew between 'em,  
As only Death could end: Chamont's Estate  
Was ruined in our late and Civil discords;  
Therefore unable to advance her Fortune,  
He left this Daughter to our Master's care;  
To such a care as she soarce lost a Father.  Ern. 
Her Brother to the Emperor's Wars went early,  
To seek a Fortune or a noble Fate;  
Whence he with honour is expected back,  
And mighty marks of that great Prince's Favour.  Paul. 
Our Master never would permit his Sons  
To launch for Fortune in th' uncertain World,  
But warns to avoid both Courts, and Camps,  
Where Dilatory Fortune plays the Jilt  
With the brave noble honest gallant man,  
To throw herself away on Fools and Knaves.  Ern. 
They both have forward generous active Spirits,  
'Tis daily their Petition to their Father,  
To send them forth where Glory's to be gotten;  
They cry they're weary of their lazy home,  
Restless to do some thing that Fame may talk of.  
To day they chased the Boar, and near this time  
Should be returned.  Paul. 
Oh that's a Royal sport!  
We yet may see the old man in a morning  
Lusty as health come ruddy to the Field,  
And there pursue the Chase as if he meant  
To o'ertake Time and bring back Youth again.  Ex. Ern. and Paul. Enter Castalio, Polidor, and Page. Cast 
Polidor! 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 lodged my spear,  
The desperate savage rushed within my Force,  
And bore me headlong with him down the Rock.  Polid. 
But then—  Cast 
Ay than my Brother, my Friend Polidor  
Like Perseus mounted on his winged Steed  
Came on, and down the dangerous precipice leapt,  
To save Castalio. 'Twas a Godlike Act.  Polid. 
But when I came, I found you Conqueror.  
Oh my heart danced to see your danger passed!  
The heat and fury of the Chase was cooled,  
And I had nothing in my mind but Joy.  Cast 
So, Polidor, methinks we might in War  
Rush on together; Thou shouldst be my guard,  
And I'd 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 loud and valued when I'm old;  
I would be busy in the World and learn,  
Not like a course and useless dunghill Weed  
Fixed to one spot and rot just as I grew.  Cast 
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 powerful in me;  
And tho' 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?  Cast 
Have I a thought my Polidor 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 Heaven.  Cast 
I will.  Pol. 
And should I chance to touch it nearly, bear it  
With all the sufferance of a tender Friend.  Cast 
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?  Cast 
Suppose I should.  Pol. 
Suppose you should not, Brother.  Cast 
You'd say I must not.  Pol. 
That would sound too roughly  
'Twixt Friends and Brothers as we two are▪  Cast 
Is love a Fault?  Pol. 
In one of us it may be;  
What if I Love her?  Cast 
Then I must inform you,  
I loved her first, and cannot quit the Claim,  
But will preserve the Birthright of my Passion.  Pol. 
You will!  Cast 
I will.  Pol. 
No more, I've done.  Cast 
Why not?  Pol. 
I told you, I had done;  
But you Castalio would dispute it.  Cast 
No:  
Not with my Polydor; though I must own  
My Nature obstinate and void of suff, rance.  
Love reigns a very Tyrant in my heart,  
Attended on his Throne by all his Guards  
Of furious wishes, fears, and nice suspicions.  
I could not bear a Rival in my Friendship,  
I am so much in love, and fond of thee.  Pol. 
Yet you would break this Friendship!  Cast 
Not for Crowns.  Pol. 
But for a Toy you would, a Woman's Toy,  
Unjust Castalio!  Cast 
Prithee, where's my fault?  Pol. 
You love Monimia.  Cast 
Yes.  Pol. 
And you would kill me,  
If I'm your Rival.  Cast 
No, sure wear such Friends,  
So much one man, that our affections too  
Must be united and the same as we are.  Pol. 
I dote upon Monimia.  Cast 
Love her still;  
Win, and enjoy her.  Pol. 
Both of us cannot.  Cast 
No matter  
Whose chance it proves, but let's not quarrel for't.  Pol. 
You would not wed Monimia, would you?  Cast 
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 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?  Cast 
Mere Vanity, and silly dotage all,  
No, let me live at large, and when I die.  Pol. 
Who shall possess th' estate you leave?  Cast 
My Friend,  
If he survives me, or if not, my King,  
Who may bestow't again on some brave man,  
Whose Honesty and Services deserve one.  Pol. 
'Tis kindly offered.  Cast 
By yond Heaven I love  
My Polydor beyond all worldly Joys,  
And would not shock his quiet to be blessed  
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?  Cast 
No matter who's.  Pol. 
Were you not with her privately last night?  Cast 
I was, and should have met her here again;  
But th' opportunity shall now be thine;  
Myself will bring thee to the Scene of Love;  
But have a care by Friendship I conjure thee,  
That no false Play be offered to thy Brother.  
Urge all thy powers to make thy Passion prosper,  
But wrong not mine.  Pol. 
Heaven blast me if I do.  Cast 
If't prove thy Fortune, Polidor, to conquer,  
(For thou hast all the Arts of fine 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 Miser's Gold,  
To great men Power or wealthy City's Pride,  
Rather than wrong Castalio I'd forget her  
For if ye powers have happiness in store,  
When ye would shower down joys on Polydore,  
In one great blessing all your bounty send,  
That I may never lose so dear a Friend.  Ex. Cast Pol. manet Page. Enter Monimia. Mon. 
So soon returned from hunting? This fair Day  
Seems as if sent t'invite the World abroad.  
Passed not Castalio and Polydore this way?  Pag. 
Madam, just now.  Mon. 
Sure some ill Fate's upon me.  
Distrust and heaviness sits round my heart,  
And Apprehension shocko my timorous Soul.  
Why was I not lain in my peaceful Grave  
With my poor Parents? and at Rest as they are?  
Instead of that I am wandering into cares.  
Castalio! oh Castalio! thou hast caught  
My foolish heart; and like a tender Child,  
That trusts his play-thing to another hand,  
I fear its harm, and fain would have it back.  
Come near Cordelio, I must chide you, Sir.  Pag. 
Why, Madam, have I done you any wrong?  Mon. 
I never see you now; you have been kinder;  
Sat by my Bed, and sung me pretty Songs:  
Perhaps I've been ungrateful, here's Money for you:  
Will you oblige me? shall I see you oftener!  Pag. 
Madam, indeed I'd serve you with my Soul;  
But in a morning when you call me to you,  
As by your bed I stand and tell you stories,  
I am ashamed to see your swelling Breasts,  
It makes me blush, they are so very white.  Mon. 
Oh men for flattery and deceit renowned!  
Thus when you're young, ye learn it all like him,  
Till as your years increase, that strengthens too,  
T'undo poor Maids and make our ruin easy.  
Tell me, Cordelio, for thou hast oft heard  
Their friendly Converse and their bosom secrets;  
Sometimes at least, have they not talked of me?  Pag. 
Oh Madam! very wickedly they have talked:  
But I'm afraid to name it, for they say  
Boys must be whipped that tell their Master's 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 for all thy harmless sports  
With pretty Toys, and thou shalt be my Page  Pag. 
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 th' hast heard  
Castalio and his Brother use my Name?  Pag. 
With all the tenderness of Love,  
You were the Subject of their last discourse.  
At first I thought it would have Fatal proved  
But as the one grew hot the other cooled,  
And yielded to the frailty of his Friend;  
At last, after much struggling 'twas resolved.  Mon. 
What, good Cordelio?  Pag. 
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 Mockery of my easy Love.  
Went they together?  Pag. 
Yes, to seek you, Madam.  
Castalio promised 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 loath to yield it,  
Or was it Polydor's unruly Passion,  
That heightened the debate?  Pag. 
The fault was Polydor's,  
Castalio played with love and smiling showed  
The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire.  
He said no Woman's smiles should buy his Freedom;  
And Marriage is a mortifying thing.  Mon. 
Then am I ruined, if Castalio's false,  
Where is their Faith, or Honour to be found?  
Ye Gods, that Guard the Innocent, and guide  
The weak; protect, and take me to your care.  
Oh! but I love him: There's the Rock will wrack me!  
Why was I made with all my Sex's softness,  
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.  Enter Castalio and Polydor. 
He comes, the Conqueror comes! lie still, my Heart,  
And learn to bear thy injuries with scorn.  Cast 
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!  Cast 
Madam!  Mon. 
Have you purposed  
To abuse me palpably? What means this usage?  
Why am I left with Polydore alone?  Cast 
He best can tell you. Business of importance  
Calls me away, I must attend my Father.  Mon. 
Will you then leave me thus?  Cast 
But for a moment.  Mon. 
It has been otherwise; the time has been,  
When business might have stayed, and I been heard.  Cast 
I could for ever hear thee; but this time  
Matters of such odd circumstances press me,  
That I must go—  Mon. 
Then go; and if 't be possible, for ever,  Ex. Cast▪ 
Well, my Lord Polydore, I guess your business,  
And read the ill-natured purpose in your eyes.  Pol. 
If to desire you more than Miser's Wealth,  
Or dying men an hour of added life,  
If softest Wishes, and a heart more true,  
Than ever suffered yet for love disdained,  
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 wandered up and down,  
Forlorn, and silent as his Vassal Beasts;  
But when a heaven-born Maid, like you, appeared,  
Strange pleasures filled his eyes, and fired his heart,  
Unloosed his Tongue, and his first talk was Love.  Mon. 
The first created pair, indeed, were blessed;  
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 gland they send  
Darts through my Soul, and almost gives enjoyment.  Mon. 
How can you labour thus for my undoing?  
I must confess, indeed, I owe you more,  
Than ever I can hope to think to pay.  
There always▪ was a Friendship 'twixt our Families;  
And therefore when my tender Parents died,  
Whose ruined Fortunes too expired with them,  
Your Father's pity and his Bounty took me  
A poor and helpless Orphan to his care.  Pol. 
'Twas Heaven ordained it so to make me happy.  
Hence with this peevish Virtue, 'tis a cheat,  
And those who caught it first, were Hypocrites;  
Come, these soft tender Limbs were made for yielding.  Mon. 
Here on my kqees by heaven's blessed powr'r I swear,  kneels. 
If you persist, I never 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 honours.  Pol. 
Intolerable Vanity! your Sex  
Was never in the right; you're always false,  
Or silly; even your dresses are not more  
Fantastic than your appetites! you think  
Of nothing twice! Opinion you have none.  
To day you're nice, to morrow not so free,  
Now Smile, then Frown; now sorrowful, then glad,  
Now pleased, now not; and all you know not why;  
Virtue you affect, Inconstancy's your practice,  
And when your loose desires once get dominion,  
No hungry Churl feeds courser at Feast,  
Every rank Fool goes down—  Mon. 
Indeed, my Lord,  
I own my Sex's follies, I have 'em all,  
And to avoid its faults 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 deformed,  
As wildness and most rude neglect could make me,  
So I might still enjoy my honour safe,  
From the destroying wiles of faithless man.  Ex. Mon. Pol. 
who'd be that sordid foolish thing called man,  
To cringe thus, fawn, and flatter for a pleasure,  
Which Beasts enjoy so very much above him:  
The lusty Bull ranges through all the Field,  
And from the Herd singling his Female out,  
Enjoys her, and abandons her at William.  
It shall be so, I'll yet possess my Love,  
Wait on, and watch her lose unguarded hours,  
Then when her roving thoughts have been abroad,  
And brought in wanton wishes to her heart;  
I'th' very minute when her Virtue nods,  
I'll rush upon her in a storm of Love,  
Bear down her guard of Honour all before me,  
Surfeit on Joys till even desire grows sick:  
Then by long Absence liberty regain  
And quite forget the pleasure and the pain.  Ex. Pol. and Page.  

ACT II. SCENE I.  Enter Acasto, Castalio, Polydore, Attendants. Acast. 
TO Day has been a Day of Glorious sport.  
When you, Castalio, and your Brother left me,  
Forth from the Thickets rushed another Boar,  
So large, he seemed the Tyrant of the Woods  
With all his dreadful Bristles raised up high  
They seemed a Grove of spears upon his Back;  
Foaming he came at me, where I was posted,  
Best to observe which way he'd lead the Chase,  
Whetting his huge long Tusks, and gaping wide,  
As if he already had me for his prey;  
Till brandishing my well poised Javelin high,  
With this cold Executing arm, I struck  
The ugly brindled Monster to the heart.  Cast 
The Actions of your life were always wondrous.  Acast. 
No flattery, Boy! an honest man canted live by't,  
It is a little sneaking Art, which Knaves  
Use to Cajole and soften Fools withal  
If thou half flattery in thy Nature, out with't,  
Or send it to a Court, for there 'twill thrive.  Pol. 
Why there?  Acast. 
'Tis next to money current there,  
To be seen daily in as many forms,  
As there are sorts of Vanities, and Men;  
The superstitious Statesman has his sneer,  
To smooth a poor man off with that can't bribe him;  
The grave dull fellow of small business soothes  
The Humorist, and will needs admire his Wit:  
Who without spleen could see a hot-brained Atheist  
Thanking a surly Doctor for his Sermon,  
Or a Grave Councillor meet a smooth young Lord,  
Squeeze him by the hand, and praise his good Complexion.  Pol. 
Courts are the places where best manners flourish,  
Where the deserving aught to rise, and Fools  
Make show. Why should I vex and chafe my spleen,  
To see a gaudy Coxcomb shine, when I  
Have seen enough to soothe him in his follies,  
And ride him to advantage as I please?—  Acast. 
Who merit ought indeed to risei'th world,  
But no wise man that's honest should expect.  
What man of sense would rack his generous mind,  
To practise all the base Formalities  
And forms of business, force a grave starched face,  
When he's a very Libertine in's heart?  
Seem not to know this or that man in public,  
When privately perhaps they meet together,  
And lay the Scene of some brave Fellows Ruin.  
Such things are done—  Cast 
Your Lordship's wrongs have been  
So great that you with Justice may complain;  
But suffer, us whose younger minds ne'er felt  
Fortune's deceits, to Court her as she'd fair.  
Were she a Common Mistress, kind to all,  
Her worth would cease, and half the world grow idle.  Acast. 
Go to, you're Fools, and know me not, I've learned  
Long since to bear, revenge, or scorn my wrongs,  
According to the value of the doer;  
You both would fain be great, and to that end  
Desire to do things worthy your Ambition;  
Go to the Camp, preferments noblest Mart,  
Where Honour ought to have the fairest play, you'll find,  
Corruption, envy, discontent, and Faction,  
Almost in every Band: How many men  
Have spent their blood in their dear Country's service,  
Yet now pine under want, while selfish slaves,  
That even would cut their throats, whom now they fawn on,  
Like deadly Locusts eat the Honey up,  
Which those industrious Bees so hardly toiled for?  Cast 
These precepts suit not with my Active mind,  
Methinks I would be busy.  Pol. 
So would I,  
Not loiter out my life at home, and know  
No farther than one prospect gives me leave.  Acast. 
Busy your minds then, study Arts and Men:  
Learn how to value Merits though in Rags,  
And scorn a proud ill-mannered Knave in Office.  Enter Serina, Monimia, and Maid▪ Ser. 
My Lord, my Father!  Acast. 
Blessings on my Child,  
My little Cherub, what hast thou to ask me?  Ser. 
I bring you, Sir, most glad and welcome news,  
The Young Chamont, whom you've so often wished for,  
Is just arrived and entering.  Acast. 
By my Soul,  
And all my honours, he's most clearly welcome,  
Let me receive him like his Father's Friend.  Enter Chamont. 
Welcome thou Relic of the best loved man,  
Welcome from all the Turmoils, and the hazards  
Of certain danger, and uncertain Fortune,  
Welcome as happy Tidings after Fears,  Cham. 
Words would but wrong the gratitude I owe you:  
Should I begin to speak, my soul's so full,  
That I should talk of nothing else all day.  Mon. 
My Brother!  Cham 
Oh my Sister! let me hold thee  
Long in my Arms, I've not beheld thy Face  
These many days, by night I've often seen thee  
In gentle Dreams, and satisfied my soul  
With fancied Joy, till morning cares awaked me.  
Another Sister, sure it must be so;  
Though I remember well, I had but one:  
But I feel something in my heart that prompts,  
And tells me she has claim and interest there.  Acast. 
Young Soldier, you've not only studied War,  
Courtship I see has been your practice too,  
And may not prove unwelcome to my Daughter.  Cham 
Is she you Daughter? then my heart told true!  
And I'm at least her Brother by Adoption.  
For you have made yourself to me a Father,  
And by that Patent I have leave to love her.  Ser. 
Monimia, thou hast told me, men are false,  
Will flatter, feign and make an Art of love.  
Is Chamont so? No, sure he's more than man  
Something that's near Divine and Truth dwells in him.  Acast. 
Thus happy, who would envy pompous power,  
The luxury of Courts, or wealth of Cities?  
Let there be joy through all the house this day!  
In every Room let plenty flow at large,  
It is the Brithday of my Royal Master.  
You have not visited the Court, Chamont,  
Since your return?  Cham 
I have no business there,  
I have not slavish Temperance enough  
T'attend a favourites heels, and watch his smiles,  
Bear an ill Office done me to my Face,  
And thank the Lord that wronged me for his favour.  Acast. 
This you could do.  To his Sons. Cast 
I'd serve my Prince.  Acast. 
who'd serve him.  Castal. 
I would, my Lord.  Pol. 
And I both would.  Acast. 
Away,  
He needs not any Servants such as you!  
Serve him! he merits more than man can do!  
He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth;  
So merciful, sure he ne'er slept in wrath;  
So just, that were he but a private man,  
He could not do a wrong. How would you serve him?  Cast 
I'd serve him with Fortune here at home.  
And serve him with my person in his wars.  
Watch for him, fight for him, bleed for him.  Pol. 
die for him,  
As every true bron loyal Subject aught.  Acast. 
Let me embrace ye both. Now by the souls  
Of my brave Ancestoss, I'm truly happy,  
For this be ever blessed my Marriage-day  
Blessed be your mother's memory that bore you,  
And doubly blessed be that auspicious hour,  
That gave the birth. Yes, my aspiring Boys,  
Ye shall have business when your master wants you,  
You cannot serve a nobler. I have served him  
In this old body yet the marks remain  
Of many wounds. I've with this Tongue proclaimed  
His right even in the face of rank Rebellion,  
And when a foul mouthed Traitor once profaned  
His sacred name, with my good Sabir drawn  
Even at the head of all his giddy rout  
I rushed and Clove the Rebel to the Chine.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
My Lord, the expected Guests are just arrived.  Acast. 
Go you, and give 'em Welcome and Reception.  Cham. 
My Lord, I stand in need of your assistance  
In something that concerns my Peace and Honour.  Acast. 
Spoke like the Son of that brave man I loved;  
So freely frinedly we conversed together.  
What e'er it be with confidence impart it,  
Thou shalt command my Fortune and my Sword.  Cham. 
I dare not doubt your Friendship nor your Justice!  
Your Bounty shown to what I hold most dear,  
My Orphan sister, must not be forgotten!  Acast. 
Prithee, no more of that, it grates my Nature.  Cham 
When our dear Parents died, they died together,  
One Fate surprised 'em, and one Grave received 'em:  
My Father with his dying breath bequeathed  
Her to my Love: my Mother as she lay  
Languishing by him, called me to her side,  
Took me in her fainting Arms, wept, and embraced me,  
Then pressed me close, and as she observed my Tears,  
Kissed 'em away, said she, Chamont my Son,  
By this and all the Love I ever showed thee  
Be careful of Monimia, watch her Youth,  
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour.  
Perhaps kind Heaven may raise some friend.  Then sighed. 
Kissed me again; so blessed us, and expired,  
Pardon my grief.  Acast. 
It speaks an honest Nature.  Cham. 
The Friend Heaven raised was you, you took her up  
An Infant to the desert world exposed,  
And proved another Parent.  Acast. 
I've not wronged her.  Cham 
Far be it from my Fears.  Acast. 
Then why this Argument?  Cham. 
My Lord, my Nature's jealous, and you'll bear it.  Acast. 
Go on.  Cham 
Great Spirits bear misfortunes hardly,  
Good Offices claim gratitude, and Pride,  
Where Power is wanting, will usurp a little,  
May make us (rather than be thought behind hand)  
Pay over-price.  Acast. 
I cannot guests your dirft;  
Distrust you me?  Cham. 
No, but I fear her weakness  
May make her pay a debt at any rate:  
And to deal freely with your Lordship's goodness,  
I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.  Acast. 
Then first charge her; and if 'th' offence be found  
Within my reach, tho' it should touch my Nature  
In my own Offspring, by the dear remembrance  
Of thy brave Father whom my heart's rejoyeed in,  
I'd prosecute it with severest Vengeance.  Cham. 
I thank you from my Soul.  Mon. 
Alas, my Brother!  
What have I done? and why do you abuse me?  
My heart quakes in me; in your settled Face  
And clouded Brow methinks I see my Fate:  
You will not kill me!  Cham 
Prithee, why dost talk so?  Mon. 
Look kindly on me then, I cannot bear  
Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me;  
My heart so tender, should you charge me roughly,  
I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing,  
But use me gently like a loving Brother,  
And search through all the Secrets of my Soul.  Cham 
Fear nothing, I will show myself a Brother,  
A tender loving and an honest Brother,  
Y'ave not forgot our Father!  Mon. 
I shall never.  Cham 
Then you'll remember too, he was a man,  
That lived up to the Standard of his Honour,  
And prized that Jewel more than Mines of Wealth:  
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once,  
Though kept in darkness from the World, and hidden,  
He could not have forgiven it to himself;  
This was the only Portion that he left us;  
And I more glory in't then if possessed  
Of all that ever Fortune threw on Fools.  
'Twas a large Trust, and must be managed nicely;  
Now if by any chance, Monimia,  
You have soiled this gem and taken from its value,  
How will y' account with me?  Mon. 
I challenge Envy,  
Malice, and all the Practices of Hell,  
To censure all the Actions of my past  
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!  Cham 
I'll tell thee then; Three Nights ago, as I  
Lay musing in my Bed, all darkness round me,  
A sudden damp sturck to my heart, cold sweat  
Dewed all my Face, and trembling seized my Limbs,  
My Bed shook under me, the Curtains started,  
And to my tortured Fancy there appeared  
The form of Thee thus Beauteous as thou art,  
Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand  
A wanton Lover, which by turns caressed thee  
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure:  
I snatched my Sword and in the very Moment  
Darted it at the Fantome, straight it left me:  
Then rose and called for lights, when, O Dire Omen!  
If found my weapon had the arras pierced,  
Just where that famous tale was interwoven,  
How th' unhappy Theban slew his Father.  Mon. 
And for this cause my Virtue is suspected!  
Becasue in Dreams your Fancy has been ridden,  
I must be tortured waking!  Cham 
Have a care,  
Labour not to be justified too fast,  
Hear all, and then let Justice hold the scale;  
What followed was the Riddle that confounds me;  
Through a close Lane as I pursued my Journey,  
And meditated on the last night's Vision,  
I spied a wrinkled Hag, with Age grown double,  
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;  
Her eyes with scalding Rheum were galled and red;  
Cold Palsy shook her head, her hands seemed withered,  
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapped  
The tattered Remnant of an old stripped hanging,  
Which served to keep her carcase from the cold,  
So there was nothing of a piece about her;  
Her lower weeds were all o'er coursely patched  
With different coloured Rags, black, read, white, yellow;  
And seemed to speak variety of wretchedness;  
I asked her of my way, which she informed me;  
Then craved my Charity, and bade me hasten  
To save a Sister: at that word I started.  Mon. 
The Common cheat of Beggars every day!  
They flock about our doors, pretend to Gifts  
Of prophecy, and telling Fools their Fortunes▪  Cer, 
Oh! but she told me such a Tale, Monimia,  
As in it bore great circumstance of truth;  
Castalio, and Polydore, my Sister.  Mon. 
Ha!  Cham 
What altered! does your courage fail you!  
Now by my Father's Soul the Witch was honest;  
Answer me, if thou hast not lost to them  
Thy Honour at a fordid Game.  Mon. 
I Will,  
I must; so hardly my Misfortune loads me,  
That both have offered me their Love's most true.  Cham 
And 'tis as true too, they have both undone Thee.  Mon. 
Though they both with earnest Vows  
Have pressed my heart, if e'er in thought I yielded  
To any but Castalio!  Cham 
But Castalio!  Mon. 
Still will you cross the Line of my Discourse!  
Yes, I confess that he has won my Soul  
By generous Love and honourable Vows,  
Which he this day appointed to complete,  
And make himself by holy Marriage mine.  Cham 
Art thou then spotless? hast thou still preferved  
Thy Virtue white without a blot untainted.  Mon. 
When I'm unchaste, may Heaven reject my Prayers!  
Or more, to make me wretched, may you know it!  Cham 
Oh then, Monimia, art thou dearer to me,  
Than all the Comforts ever yet blessed man,  
And let not Marriage bait thee to thy Ruin.  
Trust not a man; we are by Nature false,  
Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant:  
When a Man talks of Love, with caution trust him;  
But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee;  
I charge thee let no more Castalio soothe Thee.  
Avoid it as thou wouldst preserve the peace  
Of a poor Brother, to whose soul thouart precious.  Mon. 
I will!  Cham 
Appear as cold when next you meet, as Great Ones  
When Merit begs, then shalt thou see how soon  
His heart will cool and all his pains grow easy.  Ex. Cham Mon. 
Yes, I will try him, torture him severely:  
For, oh Castalio! thou too much hast wronged me,  
In leaving me to Polydor's ill usage.  
He comes, and now for once, oh Love stand Neuter,  
Whilst a hard part's performed! For I must tempt,  
Wound his soft Nature, though my own Heart aches for't.  Ex. Enter Castalio. Cast 
Monimia, Monimia, she's gone:  
And seemed to part with anger in her eyes;  
I am a Fool, and she has found my Weakness;  
She uses me already like a Slave  
Fast bound in chains to be chastised at will.  
'Twas not well done to trifle with my Brother:  
I might have trusted him with all the secret,  
Opened my silly heart and shown it bare,  
But then he loves her too; but not like me,  
I am a doting honest Slave, designed  
For Bondage, Marriage bonds, which I've sworn  
To wear: It is the only thing I e'er  
Hid from his knowledge; and he'll sure forgive  
The first Transgression of a wretched Friend  
Betrayed to Love and all its little follies.  Enter Polydore, and Page at the door. Pol. 
Here place yourself, and watch my Brother throughly:  
If he should chance to meet Monimia, make  
Just observation of each word and action;  
Pass not one circumstance without remark:  
Sir, 'tis your office, do't and bring me word.  Ex. Pol Enter Monimia. Cast 
Monimia, My Angel, 'twas not kind  
To leave me like a Turtle here alone,  
To droop and mourn the absence of my Mate.  
When thou art from me every place is desert,  
And I, methinks, am Salvago and forlorn,  
Thy Presence only 'tis can make me blessed,  
Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my Soul.  Mon. 
Oh the bewitching Tongues of faithless men!  
'Tis thus the false. Haena makes her moan,  
To draw the pitying Traveller to her Den;  
Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all,  
With sighs and plaints y'entice poor womens' hearts,  
And all that pity you, are made your Prey.  Cast 
What means my Love? oh how have I deserved  
This language from the Sovereign of my Joys!  
Stop, stop those Tears, Monimia, for they fall  
Like baneful dew from a distempored sky,  
I feel 'em i'll me to the very heaped.  Mon. 
Oh you are false, Castalio, most forlorn,  
Attempt no farther to delude my Faith,  
My heart is fixed, and you shall shake'r no more.  Cast 
Who told you so? What Hellbred Villain durst  
Profane the Sacred Business of my Love▪  Mon. 
Your Brother knowing on what terms I'm here,  
Th' unhappy Object of your Father's Charity▪  
Licentiously discoursed to me of Love,  
And durst affront me with his brutal Passion.  Cast 
'Tis I have been to blame, and only I,  
False to my Brother and unjust to Thee.  
For, oh! he loves Thee too, and this day owned it,  
Taxed me with mine and claimed aright above me.  Mon. 
And was your Love so very tame to shrink,  
Or rather than lose him abandon me.  Cast 
I knowing him precipitate and rash,  
To calm his heat and to conceal my Happiness,  
Seemed to comply with his unruly will;  
Talked as he talked, and granted all he asked;  
Lest he in Rage might have our Loves betrayed,  
And I for ever had Monimia lost.  Mon. 
Could you then? did you? can you own it too?  
'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself,  
And I can never think you meant me fair.  Cast 
Is this Monimia? surely no! till now  
I ever thought her Dovelike, soft, and kind,  
Who trusts his Heart with Woman's surely lost:  
You were made Fair on purpose to undo us,  
Whilst greedily we snatch th' alluring Bait,  
And ne'er distrust the poison that it hides.  Mon. 
When Love ill placed would find a means to break.  Cast 
It never wants pretences nor excuse.  Mon. 
Man therefore was a Lordlike Creature made,  
Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too:  
A lofty Aspect given him for command,  
Easily softened, when he would betray:  
Like conquering Tyrants, you our Breasts invade,  
Where you are pleased to forage for a While,  
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave  
The ravaged Province ruinate and waste.  
If so, Castalio, you have served my heart,  
I find that Desolation's settled there,  
And I shall ne'er recover Peace again.  Cast 
Who can hear this and bear an equal mind!  
Since you will drive me from you, I must go;  
But, oh Monimia, when th' hast banished me,  
No creeping slave, though tractable and dull,  
As artful Woman for her ends would choose,  
Shall ever dote as I have done; for oh!  
No Tongue my Pleasure nor my Pain can tell:  
'Tis Heaven to have Thee, and without Thee Hell.  Mon. 
Castalio! stay! we must not part. I find  
My Rage ebbs out, and Love flows in apace;  
These little Quarrels Love must needs forgive,  
They rouse up drowsy thoughts, and wake the Soul.  
Oh! charm me with the Music of thy Tongue,  
I'm ne'er so blessed, as when I hear thy Vows,  
And listen to the Language of thy Heart.  Cast 
Where am I! surely Paradise is round me!  
Sweets planted by the hand of Heaven grow here,  
And every sense is full of thy Perfection.  
To hear thee speak might calm a madman's Frenzy,  
Till by attention he forgot his sorrows;  
But to behold thy Eyes, th' amazing Beauties,  
Might make him rage again with Love as I do.  
To touch thee's Heaven, but to enjoy thee oh!  
Thou Nature's whole perfection in one piece!  
Sure framing thee Heaven took unusual care,  
As its own Beauty it designed thee Fair;  
And formed thee by the best loved Angel there.  Ex.  

ACT III. SCENE I.  Enter Polydor, and Page. Pol. 
WEre they so kind? Express it to me all  
In words may make me think I saw it too.  Pag. 
At first I thought they had been mortal Foes;  
Monimia raged, Castalio grew disturbed,  
Each thought the other wronged, yet both so haughty,  
They scorned submission; though Love all the while  
The Rebel played, and scarce could be contained.  Pol. 
But what succeeded?  Pag. 
Oh 'twas wondrous pretty!  
For of a sudden all the Storm was past,  
A gentle calm of Love succeeded in;  
Monimia sighed and blushed, Castalio swore▪  
As you, my Lord, I well remember did  
To my young Sister in the Orenge-Grove,  
When I was first preferred to be your Page.  Pol. 
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 refused?  
Has he supplanted me by some foul play,  
Traduced my Honour? Death! he durst not do't.  
It must be so: we parted and he met her,  
Half to compliance brought by me, surprised  
Her sinking Virtue till she yielded quite,  
So Poachers basely pick up tired Game,  
Whilst the fair Hunter's cheated of his Prey.  
Boy!  Pag. 
My Lord!  Pol. 
Go to your Chamber and prepare your Lute;  
Find out some Song to please me, that discribes  
Woman's Hypocrisies, their subtle wiles,  
Betraying smiles, feigned tears, inconstancies,  
Their painted outsides, and corrupted minds,  
The sum of all their follies, and their falsehoods.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
Oh the unhappyest Tidings Tongue e'er told!  Pol. 
The matter!  Seru. 
Oh! your Father, my good Master,  
As with his Guests he sat in mirth raised high,  
And chased the Goblins round the joyful Board,  
A sudden trembling seized on all his Limbs:  
His Eyes distorted grew; His Visage pale,  
His Speech forsook him; Life itself seemed fled,  
And all his Friends are waiting now about him.  Enter Acasto leaning on Two. Acast. 
Support me, give me Air, I'll yet recover.  
'Twas but a slip decaying Nature made,  
For she grows weary near her Journeys end.  
Where are my Sons? come near, my Polidore,  
Your Brother! where's Castalio?  Seru. 
My Lord,  
I've searched, as you commanded, all the house,  
He or Monimia are not to be found.  Acast. 
Not to be found, then where are all my Friends? 'tis well,  
I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault  
M'unmannerly infirmity has made.  
Death could not come in a more welcome hour,  
For I'm prepared to meet him, and methinks  
Would live and die with all my Friends about me.  Enter Castalio. Castal. 
Angels preserve my dearest Father's Life,  
Bless it with long and uninterrupted days!  
Oh! may he live till time itself decay,  
Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him!  Acast. 
Thank you, Castalio; give me both your hands,  
And bear me up, I'd walk: so, now methinks  
I appear as great as Hercules himself,  
Supported by the Pillars he had raised.  Cast 
My Lord, your Chaplain.  Acast. 
Let the good man enter.  Cast 
Heaven guard your Lordship and restore your Health!  Acast. 
I have provided for thee, if I die.  
No fawning! 'tis a scandal to thy Office.  
My Sons, as thus united ever live,  
And for the Estate, you'll find when I am dead  
I have divided it betwixt you both  
Equally parted, as you shared my love;  
Only to sweet Monimia I've bequeathed  
Ten thousand Crowns, a little Portion for her,  
To wed her honourably as she's born.  
Be not less Friends because you're Brother; shun  
The man that's singular, his mind's unsound,  
His Spleen o'erweighs his Brains, but above all  
Avoid the politic, the factious Fool,  
The busy, buzzing, talking, hardened Knave;  
The quaint, smooth Rogue, that sins against his Reason;  
Calls saucy loud Suspicion, public Zeal,  
And Mutiny the Dictates of his spirit.  
Be very careful how ye make new Friends,  
Men read not Morals now, 'twas a Custom,  
But all are to their Father's Vices born:  
And in their Mother's Ignorance are bred.  
Let Marriage be the last mad thing ye do,  
For all the Sins and Follies of the past.  
If you have Children, never give them knowledge,  
'Twill spoil their Fortune, Fools are all the fashion.  
If you've Religion, keep it to yourselves,  
Atheists will else make use of Toleration,  
And laugh ye out on't, never show Religion  
Except ye mean to pass for Knaves of Conscience,  
And cheat believing Fools that think ye honest.  Serin. 
My Father!  Acasto. 
My heart's Darling!  Serina. 
Let my Knees  
Fix to the Earth. ne'er let my Eyes have rest,  
But wake and weep till Heaven restore my Father!  Acast. 
Rise to my Arms, and thy kind prayers are answered,  
For thou'rt a wondrous extract of all Goodness,  
Born for my joy, and no pain's felt when near thee.  
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.  Acasto. 
May'st thou be happy!  Cham. 
Where?  Acast. 
In all thy wishes!  Cham. 
Confirm me so, and make this Fair One mine,  
I am unpractised 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.  Acast. 
What says Serina? canst thou love a Soldier?  
One born to Honour and to Honour bred;  
One that has learned to treat even Foes with kindness;  
To wrong no good man's Fame nor praise himself.  Serin. 
Oh! name not Love, for that's allied to joy,  
And joy must be a stranger to my heart,  
When you're in danger. May Chamonts' good Fortune  
Render him lovely to some happier Maid!  
Whilst I at Friendly distance see him blessed,  
Praise the kind Gods and wonder at his Virtues.  Acast. 
Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and possess her,  
And as my Son a third of all my Fortune  
Shall be thy Lot.  
But keep thy Eyes from wandering man of frailty,  
Beware the dangerous Beauty of the wanton,  
Shun their enticements; Ruin like a Vulture  
Waits on their Conquests: Falsehood too's their business,  
They put false Beauty off to all the World;  
Use false endearments to the Fools that love 'em,  
And when they marry to their silly Husbands,  
They bring false Virtue, broken Fame, and Fortune.  Monim. 
Hear ye that, my Lord?  Polyd. 
Yes, my fair Monitor, old men always talk thus.  Acast. 
Chamont, you told me of some doubts that pressed you.  
Are you yet satisfied that I am 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 'em;  
They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you.  Acast. 
I thank you: Daughter, you must do so too.  
My Friends 'tis late, or we would yet be company  
For my disorder seems all past and over,  
And I methinks begin to feel new health.  Cast 
Would you but rest, it might restore you quite.  Acast. 
Yes, I'll to Bed; old men must humour weakness.  
Let me have Music then to lull and chase  
This melancholy thought of Death away,  
Good-night! my Friends, Heaven guard ye all! good night!  
To morrow early we'll salute the day,  
Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time.  Ex. all but Chamont and Chaplain. Cham. 
Hist, hist, Sir Gravity, a word with you.  Chap. 
With me, Sir?  Cham. 
If you're at leisure, Sir, we'll waste an hour,  
'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and 'twill be charity  
To lend your Conversation to a Stranger,  Chap. 
Sir, you are a Soldier?  Cham. 
Yes.  Chap. 
I love a Soldier,  
And had been one myself, but my old Parents  
Would make me what you see of me, yet I'm honest  
For all I wear black.  Cham. 
And that's a wonder,  
Have you had long dependence 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,  
And I have manners;  
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;  
I rise in a morning early, study moderately,  
Eat and drink cheerfully, live soberly,  
Take my innocent pleasures freely,  
So I 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.  
Knew you my Father the old Chamont?  Chap. 
I did, and was most sorry when we lost him.  Cham. 
Why? didst thou love him?  Ch. 
Every body loved him; besides he was my master'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 prithee tell me;  
Thinkst thou the Lord Castalio loves my Sister?  
Nay, never start. Come, come, I know thy Office  
Opens thee all the Secrets of the Family.  
Then if thou art honest, use this Freedom kindly.  Chap. 
Love your Sister?  Cham. 
Ay, Love her.  Chap. 
Sir, I never asked him.  
And wonder you should ask it me.  Cham. 
Nay, but thouart an Hypocrite: is there not one,  
Of all thy Tribe that's honest in your Schools?  
The pride of your Superiors makes ye Slaves:  
Ye all live loathsome sneaking servile lives;  
Not free enough to practise generous Truth,  
Though ye pretend to teach it to the World.  Chap. 
I would deserve a better thought from you.  Cham. 
If thou wouldst have me not contemn thy Office  
And Character, think all thy Brethren Knaves,  
Thy Trade a Cheat, and thou its worst Professor;  
Inform me; for I tell thee, Priest, I'll know.  Chap. 
Either he loves her, or he much has wronged her.  Cham. 
How wronged her? have a care: for this may lay  
A Scene of mischief to undo us all.  
But tell me, wronged her say'dst thou?  Chap. 
Ay, Sir, wronged her.  Cham. 
This is a secret worth a Mon arches Fortune:  
What shall I give thee for't? thou dear Physician  
Of sickly Souls, unfold this Riddle to me,  
And comfort mine,—  Chap. 
I would hide nothing from you willingly.  Cham 
Nay, then again thou'rt honest. Wouldst thou tell me?  Chap. 
Yes, If I durst.  Cham. 
Why, what affrights thee?  Chap. 
You do,  
Who are not to be trusted with the Secret.  Cham, 
Why, I am no Fool.  Chap. 
So indeed you say.  Cham. 
Prithee, be serious then.  Chap. 
You see I am so,  
And hardly shall be mad enough to Night,  
To trust you with my Ruin.  Cham. 
Art thou then  
So far concerned in't? What has been thy Office?  
Curse on that formal steady Villains Face!  
Just so do all Bawds look; Nay, Bawds they say  
Can pray upon occasion, talk of Heaven,  
Turn up their Gogling Eyeballs, rail at Vice,  
Dissemble, lie, and preach like any Priest.  
Art thou a Bawd?  Chap. 
Sir, I'm not often used thus.  Cham. 
Be just then.  Chap. 
So I will be to the trust  
That's laid upon me.  Cham. 
By the rev'renced Soul  
Of that great honest man that gave me Being,  
Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my Honour,  
And if I ere 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 moved, and I will trust you.  Cham. 
Wilt thou?  Chap. 
I will; but if it ever 'scape you—  Cham. 
It never shall.  Chap. 
Swear then.  Cham. 
I do, by all  
That's dear to me, by th' Honour of my Name,  
And that Power I serve, it never shall.  Chap. 
Then this good day, when all the house was busy,  
When mirth and kind rejoicing filled each Room,  
As I was walking in the Grove I met them.  Cham. 
What met them in the Grove together? tell me.  
How? walking, standing, sitting, lying? hah!  Chap. 
I by their own appointment met them there,  
Received their Marriage vows and joined their hands.  Cham. 
How! married!  Chap. 
Yes, Sir.  Cham. 
Then my Soul's at peace:  
But why would you delay so long 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 guests, though 'tis my Sister's Honour,  
I do not like this Marriage  
Huddled i'th' 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 even to them, the new matched Pair. Farewell.  
Believe my Truth and know me for thy Friend.  Exeunt. Enter Castalio, and Monimia. Cast 
Young Chamont, and the Chaplain! sure 'tis they!  
No matter what's contrived or who consulted,  
Since my Monimia's mine; tho' this sad Look  
Seems no good boding Omen to our Bliss;  
Else, prithee, tell me why that Look cast down?  
Why that sad sigh as if thy heart were breaking?  Mon. 
Castalio, I am thinking what we've done.  
The Heavenly Powers were sure displeased to day!  
For at the Ceremony as we stood,  
And as your Hand was kindly joined with mine,  
As the good Priest pronounced the Sacred Words,  
Passion grew big and I could not forbear,  
Tears drowned my eyes, and trembling seized my Soul.  
What should that mean?  Cast 
Oh thou art tender all!  
Gentle and kind, as sympathising Nature!  
When a sad story has been told, I've seen  
Thy little breasts with soft Compassion swelled,  
Shove up and down, and heave like dying Birds;  
But now let fear be banished, think no more  
Of danger, for there's safety in my Arms;  
Let them receive thee: Heaven, grow Jealous now.  
Sure she's too good for any Mortal Creature!  
I could grow wild, and praise thee even to madness.  
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.  Pol. 
So hot my Brother?  Polydore at the Door. Mon. 
'Twill be impossible:  
You know your Father's Chamber's next to mine,  
And the least noise will certainly alarm him.  Cast 
Impossible? Impossible? alas!  
Is't possible to live one hour without thee?  
Let me behold those Eyes; they'll tell me truth▪  
Hast thou no longing? Art thou still the same  
Cold Joy Virgin? No; the art altered quite.  
Haste, haste to Bed, and let lose all thy wishes.  Mon. 
'Tis but one Night, my Lord, I pray be ruled.  Cast 
Try if thoust Power to stop a flowing Tide,  
Or in a Tempest make the Seas be Calm;  
And when that's done I'll Conquer my desires.  
No more, my Blessing. What shall be the sign?  
When shall I come? Fot 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 betrayed.  Cast 
Oh! doubt it not Monimia, our Joys  
Shall be as silent as the Extatick bliss  
Of Souls, that by Intelligence converse:  
Immortal pleasures shall our senses drown;  
Thought shall be lost, and every Power dissolved:  
Away, my Love; first take this kiss. Now haste▪  
I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute past.  Ex. Mon. 
My Brother wandering too so late this way!  Pol, 
Castalio!  Cast 
My Polydore, how dost thou?  
How does Our Father? is he well recovered?  Pol. 
I left him happily reposed to Reft;  
He's still as gay as if his life were young.  
But how does fair Monimia?  Cast 
Doubtless well.  
A Cruel Beauty with her conquests pleased  
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?  Cast 
She's not Woman else:  
Tho' I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping;  
W'ave in a barren desert strayed too long.  Pol. 
Yet may relief be unexpected found,  
And Loves sweet Manna cover all the field,  
Met ye to day?  Cast 
No, She has still avoided me,  
Her Brother too is jealous of her grown,  
And has been hinting something to my Father.  
I wish I'd never meddled with the matter,  
And would enjoin thee, Polidore—  Pol. 
To what?  Cast 
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.  Cast 
Nay, she has Beauty that might shake the Leagues  
Of mighty Kings, and set the World at odds;  
But I have wondrous 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 your 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.  Cast 
Grant I do,  
You love Capitulation, Polydore,  
And but upon Conditions would oblige me.  Pol. 
You say, you've Reasons. Why are they Concealed?  Cast 
To Morrow I may tell you.  
It is a matter of such Circumstance,  
As I must well Consult ere I reveal:  
But, prithee, 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?  Cast 
It seems you've watched me then?  Pol. 
I scorn the Office.  Cast 
Prithee, avoid a thing thou may'st repent.  Pol. 
That is henceforward making Leagues with you.  Cast 
Nay, if you're angry, Polydore, good Night.  Pol. 
Good Night, Castalio, if you're in such haste.  
He little thinks I've overheard th' Appointment▪  
But to his Chamber's gone to wait a while,  
Then come and take possession of my Love.  
This is the utmost Point of all my Hope,  
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!  Enter Page. Pag. 
My Lord!  Pol. 
Come hither, Boy.  
Thou hast a pretty forward Lying face,  
And may'st in time Expect preferment, canst thou  
Pretend to sectesie, Cajole and Flatter  
Thy Master's follies and assist his pleasures?  Pag. 
My Lord, I could do any thing for you,  
And ever be a very Faithful Boy.  
Command what e'er's you 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. 
‛ jis pity than thou shouldst not be employed:  
Go to my Brother▪ he's in's Chamber now  
Undressing and preparing for his rest,  
Find out some means to keep him up a while,  
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. Well said, Polydore;  
Dissemble with thy Brother: That's one Point;  
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 employed again.  Pag. 
Doubt not, my Lord: he has been always kind  
To me; would often set me on his knees;  
Then give me Sweetmeats, call me pretty Boy,  
And asked me what the Maids talked of at Nights.  Pol. 
Run quickly then, and prosperous be thy Wishes.  Ex. Page. 
Here I'm alone and fit for mischief; now,  
To cheat this brother will't be honest, that  
I heard the Sign she ordered him to give.  
Oh for the Art of Proteus but to change  
The happy Polydore to blessed Castalio!  
She's not so well acquainted with him yet,  
But I may fit her Arms, as well as he.  
Then when I'm happily possessed of more  
Than sense can think, all loosened into Joy,  
To hear my disappointed brother come,  
And give the unregarded Signal; Oh!  
What a malicious pleasure will that be!  
Just three soft strokes against the Chamber door,  
But speak not the least word, for if you should,  
It is surely heard, and we are both betrayed.  
How I adore a Mistress that contrives  
With care to lay the business of her Joys!  
One that has wit to charm the very Soul,  
And give a double relish to delight!  
Blessed Heaven, assist me but in this dear hour,  
And my kind Stars be but propitious now;  
Dispose of me hereafter as you please.  
Monimia! Monimia!  Gives the Sign. (Maid at the Window.) 
who's there?  Pol. 
'Tis I.  Maid. 
My Lord Castalio?  Pol. 
The same.  
How does my Love, my Dear Monimia.  Maid. 
Oh!  
She wonders much at your unkind delay,  
You've stayed 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 opened.  Maid Descends. 
Now boast, Castalio, Triumph now and tell  
Thyself strange stories of a promised Bliss.  The Door unbolts 
It opens, hah I what means my trembling flesh!  
Limbs, do your Office and support me well.  
Bear me to her, then fail me if you can.  Enter Castalio, and Page. Pag. 
Indeed, my Lord, 'twill be a lovely Morning,  
Pray let us hunt.  Cast 
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 go to bed.  Pag. 
I'll wait upon your Lordship,  
If you think fit, and sing you to repose.  Cast 
No, my kind Boy, the night is too far wasted,  
My senses too are quite disrobed of thought,  
And ready all with me to go to rest.  
Good night: commend me to my Brother.  Pag. 
Oh!  
You never heard the last new Song I learned;  
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.  Cast 
You must be whipped Youngster, if you get such  
Songs as those are. What means  
This Boy's impertinence to Night?  Pag. 
Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear Lord?  Cast 
Psalms, Child, Psalms.  Pag. 
Oh dear me! Boys that go to School learn Psalms, but  
Pages that are better bred Sing Lampoons.  Cast 
Well, leave me, I'm weary.  Pag. 
Oh! but you promised me last time I told you what  
Colour my Lady Monimia's stockings were of and that  
She gartered them above knee, that you would give me a little  
Horse to go a hunting upon, so you did. I'll tell you no more  
Stories, except you keep your word with me.  Cast 
Well, go you Trifler and to morrow ask me.  Pag. 
Indeed, my Lord, I can't abide to leave you.  Cast 
Why, wert thou instructed to attend me?  Pag. 
No, no, indeed, indeed, my Lord, I was not;  
But I know what I know.  Cast 
What dost thou know? Death! what can all this mean?  Pag. 
Oh! I know who loves somebody.  Cast 
What's that to me, Boy?  Pag. 
Nay, I know who loves you too.  Cast 
That is a wonder, prithee tell it me.  Pag. 
'tis— tis— ay know who— but will  
You give me the Horse then?  Cast 
I will, my Child.  Pag. 
It is my Lady Monimia, look you, but don't you  
Tell her I told you, She'll give me no more play things then.  
I heard her say so as she lay a bed, Man.  Cast 
Talked she of me when in her bed, Cordelio?  Pag. 
Yes, and I sung her the Song you made too.  
And she did so sigh, and so look with her Eyes;  
And her breasts did so lift up and down; I could have found  
In my Heart to have beat 'em, for they made me ashamed.  Cast 
Hark, what's that Noise?  
Take this, be gone, and leave me.  Ex. Page. 
You Knave, you little flatterer, get you gone.  
Surely it was a Noise. Hist— only Fancy.  
For all is hushed, as Nature were retired,  
And the perpetual Motion standing still:  
So much she from her work appears to cease,  
And every warring Element's at peace,  
All the wild Herds are in their Coverts Couched;  
The Fishes to their Banks or Ouze repaired,  
And to the murmurs of the Waters sleep;  
The feeling air's at rest and feels no noise,  
Except of some soft Breathes among the Trees,  
Rocking the hermeless birds that rest upon 'em.  
'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.  
At Midnight thus the Us'rer steals untract,  
To make a Visit to his hoarded Gold,  
And Feast his Eyes upon the shining Mammon:  Knocks. 
She hears me not, sure she already sleeps.  
Her wishes could not brook my so long Delay,  
And her poor heart has beat itself to rest.  Knocks again. 
Monimia! my Angel— hah— not yet—  
How long's the softest Moment of delay  
To a Heart Impatient of its pangs like mine,  
In sight of ease and panting to the Goal.  Knocks again. 
Once more—  Maid 
Who's there,  
That Comes thus rudely to disturb our Rest?  Cast 
'Tis I.  Maid. 
Who are you, what's your Name?  Cast 
Suppose  
The Lord Castalio.  Maid. 
I know you not;  
The Lord Castalio has no business here.  Cast 
Ha! have a care, what can this mean!  
Who e'er thou art, I charge thee to Monimia fly;  
Tell her I'm here and wait upon my doom.  Maid. 
Who e'er you are, you may repent this outrage,  
My Lady must not be disturbed Good Night!  Cast 
She must, tell her she shall, go I'm in haste,  
And bring her tidings from the state of Love,  
theyare all in consultation met together,  
How to reward my Truth, and Crown her Vows.  Maid. 
Sure the man's mad.  Cast 
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 Creatures trifling folly makes me mad.  Maid. 
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.  Cast 
I'll not believe't.  Maid. 
You may, Sir.  Cast 
Curses blast thee!  Maid. 
Well, 'tis a fine cool Evening, and I hope  
May cure the raging Fever in your Blood.  
Good night!  Casta. 
And farewell all that's just in Woman!  
This is contrived, a studied Trick to abuse  
My easy nature, and torment my mind;  
Sure now sh'has bound me fast, and means to Lord it,  
To rein me hard, and ride me at her will,  
Till by degrees she shape me into Fool.  
For all her future use's Death and Torment.  
'Tis impudence to think my Soul will bear it.  
Oh I could grow even wild, and tear my hair:  
'Tis well, Monimia, that thy Empire's short;  
Let but to morrow, but to morrow come,  
And try if all thy Arts appease my wrong;  
Till when be this detested place my Bed,  Lays down. 
Where I will ruminate on Woman's Ills,  
Laugh at myself and curse th' inconstant Sex.  
Faithless Monimia! Oh Monimia!  Enter Ernesto. Ernesto. 
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.  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 seemest 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 m my Arms  
Have often born 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 thoughts  
Are full of Woman, thou poor Wretch, art past'em.  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 Humane Frailty!  
What mighty Ills have not been done by Woman?  
Who was't betrayed the Capitol? A Woman.  
Who lost Mark Anthony the World? A Woman.  
Who was the cause of a long ten years' War,  
And laid as 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 Tempations lewdly she inclined  
Her Soul, and for an Apple damned Mankind.   

ACT IV. SCENE I.  Acasto solus. Acast. 
Blessed 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 Fancies Children, have been overbusy,  
And all the Night played Farces in my Brains;  
Methought I heard the Midnight-Raven cry;  
Waked with th' imagined Noise, my Curtains seemed  
To 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 th' effect of my distempered blood;  
And when the Health's disturbed, the mind's unruly.  Enter Polydore. 
Good Morning, Polydore.  Pol. 
Heaven keep your Lordship.  Acast. 
Have you yet seen Castalio to day?  Pol. 
My Lord, 'tis early day, he's hardly risen.  Acast. 
Go, call him up, and meet me in the Chapel.  Ex. Pol. 
I cannot think all has gone well to night;  
For as I waking lay (and sure my sense  
Was then my own) methought 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, and her Maid. 
Already up Monimia! you Rose  
Thus early surely to outshine the Day!  
Or was there any thing that crossed your rest!  
They were naughty thoughts that would not let you sleep.  Mon. 
What ever are my thoughts, my Lord, I've learned  
By your Example to correct their Ills,  
And Morn, and Evening, give up th' 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 are more fair to Day;  
For Beauty's heightened in your Cheeks, and all  
Your Charms seem up, and ready in your Eyes.  Mon. 
The little share I have's so very mean,  
That it may easily admit Addition;  
Though you, my Lord, should most of all beware  
To give it too much praise, and make me proud.  Acast. 
Proud of an Old man's praises! No Monimia!  
But if my Prayers can work thee any good,  
Thou shalt not want the largest share of 'em:  
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 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've seldom known her disobey my Orders.  Acast. 
Sure Goblins then, 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.  Ex. Acasto. 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 me  
Seemed the forced Compliment of fated 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 born none knows.  
A Husband may be Jealous, rigid, false;  
And should Castalio ere 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.  Ex. Mon. and Maid. Enter Castalio. Cast 
Wished 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 newborn 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  
The Voice, and bid their fellow Bruits good morrow:  
The Cheerful Birds too, on the tops of Trees,  
Assemble all in Quoires, 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 am 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're satisfied—  Looking languishingly on him. Cast 
I am  
Well satisfied, that thou art— Oh—  Mon. 
What? speak:  
Art thou not well, Castalio? Come lean  
Upon my Breasts, 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 dreamt.  
What ails my Love?  Cast 
What e'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'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 enslayed.  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.  Cast 
Nay, you shall not, Madam,  
By yond bright Heaven, you shall not; all the day  
I'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 made  
Subservient 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 Knees,  
Thus follow you all day, till theyare 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. 
Oh Heaven!  
And, will you leave me thus? help, help, Florella.  He drags her to the Door and breaks from her▪ 
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.  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 my Castalios false—  Maid. 
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?  Enter Chamont. Cham 
In tears Monimia!  Mon. 
Who e'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 then  
See if my soul has rest till thou hast justice.  Mon. 
My Brother!  Cham. 
Yes, Monimia, if thou thinkst  
That I deserve the Name, I am Brother.  Mon. 
Oh Castalio!  Cham. 
Ha!  
Name me that Name again! My Souls 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.  Cham. 
You use me ill, Monimia;  
And I might think with Justice most severely  
Of this unfaithful dealing with your Brother.  Mon. 
Truly I am 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 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, and 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 light  
To eyes but just restored, and healed of blindness.  
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. 
Oh shouldst thou know the cause of my lamenting,  
I am satisfied, Chamont, that thou wouldst scorn me;  
Thou wouldst despise the abject lost Monimia,  
No more wouldst praise this Beauty: but  
When in some Cell distracted, as I shall be,  
Thou seest me lie; these unregarded Locks,  
Matted like Furies Tresses; my poor Limbs  
Chained to the Ground, and 'stead of the delights  
Which happy Lovers taste, my Keeper's stripes,  
A Bed of Straw, and a course wooden dish  
Of wretched sustenance. When thus thou seest me,  
Prithee have Charity and pity for me.  
Let me enjoy this thought.  Cham. 
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?  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 used  
From a near Friend; from one that has my Soul  
A 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 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 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 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 begged to know the cause  
He dragged me like a Slave upon the Earth,  
And had no pity on my Cries.  Cham. 
How! did he  
Dash thee disdainfully a way 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 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 ne'er  
Clasp him again within these longing Arms,  
Yet bless him, bless him (Gods) where e'er he goes.  Enter Acasto. Acast. 
Sure some ill Fate is towards me; in my house  
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 too—  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 Arms 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 Friend  
Was 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 Scale  
Weighs 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 overflowing  
Of 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 mad man's frenzy and forget it.  Acast. 
I will, but henceforth, prithee, 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—  Takes Mon. by 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 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,  
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'em, when they want good sense;  
But honesty  
Needs 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 yond blessed Heaven there's not a Lord  
But 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 combined  
In one damned Falsehood to outdo 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 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.  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 repeat  
The Cause of this; I beg you (to preserve  
Your House's Honour) ask it of Castalio.  Acast. 
I will.  Cham. 
Till then farewell—  Ex. Cham. 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.  Ex. Acasto. 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: his parting frowns  
May 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 mischievons 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.  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 e'er shall know; but it shall with me die.  Pol. 
Happy, Monimia, he, to whom these sighs,  
These tears, and all these languish 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 th' appointment made:  
I did, Monimia, and I cursed 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. 
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,  
T'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 posted  
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're on a Rock will wreck your Quiet,  
And drown your soul in wretchedness for ever;  
A thousand horrid thoughts crowed on my memory.  
Will you be kind and answer me one question?  Pol. 
I'd trust thee with my life on those soft Breasts;  
Breath 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 arms  
I triumphed: Rest had been my Foe.  Mon. 
'Tis done—  She 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 surprised anon,  
And consequently all must be betrayed,  
Monimia! she breaths— Monimia.—  Mon. 
Well,—  
Let mischiefs multiply! Let every hour  
Of my loathed life yield me increase of horror!  
Oh let the Sun to these unhappy eyes  
ne'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 quite  
Forget I ever had Humanity,  
And grow a Curser of the works of Nature!  Pol. 
What means all this?  Mon. 
Oh, Polydore, it all  
The friendship ere you vowed to good Castalio  
Be not a falsehood, if you every loved  
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! hah!  
Speak that again.  Mon. 
I am Castalio's Wife.  Pol. 
His married wedded Wife?  Mon. 
Yesterdays Sun  
Saw it performed.  Pol. 
And then have I enjoyed  
My Brother's Wife.  Mon. 
As surely as we both,  
Must taste of misery that guilt is thine.  Pol. 
Must we be miserable then?  Mon. 
Oh!  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 Sins upon my wretched head:  
Wouldst thou again have me betray thy Brother,  
And bring pollution to his Arms? cursed thought!  
Oh when shall I be mad indeed!  Pol. 
Nay, then,  
Let us embrace, and from this very Moment  
Vow an Eternal misery together.  Mon. 
And wilt thou be a very faithful wretch?  
Never grow fond of cheerful peace again?  
Wilt with me study to be unhappy,  
And find out ways how to increase affliction?  Pol. 
We'll institute new Arts unknown before,  
To vary plagues and make 'em 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 thing  
More wretched than its Parents, to be branded  
With 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 Adder's nest in Winter,  
Loathsome and Venomous; Where poisons hang  
Like Gums against the Walls; where Witches meet  
By 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.   

ACT V. SCENE I.  Castalio lying on the ground. 

SONG.  

COme, all ye Youths, whose Hearts e'er bled  
By cruel Beauty's Pride,  
Bring each a Garland on his head  
Let none his Sorrows hide,  
But hand in hand around me move  
Singing the saddest Tales of Love;  
And see, when your Complaints ye join,  
If all your Wrongs can equal mine.   

2  
The happiest Mortal once was I,  
My heart no Sorrows knew.  
Pity the Pain with which I die,  
But ask not whence it grew.  
Yet if a tempting Fair you find  
That's very lovely, very kind,  
Though bright as Heaven whose stamp she bears,  
Think of my Fate, and Shun her Snares.    Castal. 
See where the Dear trot after one another,  
Male, Female, Father, Daughter, Mother, Son,  
Brother and Sister mingled all together;  
No discontent they know, but in delightful  
Wildness and freedom, pleasant Springs, fresh Herbage,  
Calm Harbours, 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. Acast. 
Castalio! Castalio!  Cast 
who's there  
So wretched but to name Castalio?  Acast. 
I hope my message may  
succeed.  Cast 
My Father,  
'Tis Joy to see you, though where sorrow's Nourished.  Acast. 
I'm come, in Beauty's Cause, you'll guests the rest.  Cast 
A woman! if you love my peace of mind,  
Name not a woman to me; but to think  
Of woman were enough to taint my Brains,  
Till they foment to madness! Oh! my Father.  Acast. 
What Ails my Boy?  Cast 
A woman is the thing  
I would forget, and blot from my Remembrance.  Acast. 
Forget Monimia!  Cast 
She to choose: Monimia  
The very sound's ungrateful to my sense.  Acast. 
This might seem strange, but you I've found will  
Hide your heart from me, you dare not trust to your Father.  Cast 
No more Monimia.  Acast. 
Is she not your Wife?  Cast 
So much the worse, who loves to hear of Wife?  
When you would give all worldly Plagues a name  
Worse than they have already, call 'em Wife:  
But a new married wife's seeming mischief,  
Full of herself: Why, what a deal of horror  
Has that poor wretch to come, that wedded yesterday?  Acast. 
Castalio, you must go along with me.  
And see Monimia.  Cast 
Sure my Lord but mocks me,  
Go see Monimia! Pray, my Lord, excuse me;  
And leave the Conduct of this part of Life,  
To my own Choice.  Acast. 
I say, no more dispute.  
Complaints are made to me, that you have wronged her.  Cast 
Who has complained?  Acast. 
Her Brother to my face proclaimed her wronged,  
And in such terms they've warmed me.  Cast 
What terms? her Brother! Heaven!  
Where learned she that?  
What does she send her Hero with defiance?  
He durst not sure affront you?  Acast. 
No, not much,  
But—  Cast 
Speak, what said he?  Acast. 
That thou wert a Villain:  
Methinks I would not have thee thought a Villain.  Cast 
Shame on the ill-mannered Brute:  
Your age secured him, he durst not else have said so.  Acast. 
By my Sword,  
I would not see thee wronged, and bear it vilely,  
Though I have past my word she shall have Justice.  Cast 
Justice! to give her Justice would undo her:  
Think you this Solitude I now had chosen,  
Left joys just opening to my sense, sought here  
A place to curse my Fate in, measured out  
My Grave at length, wish to have grown one piece  
With this cold Clay, and all without a Cause?  Enter Chamont. Cham. 
Where is the Hero famous and renowned  
For wronging Innocence, and breaking Vows;  
Whose mighty spirit, and whose stubborn heart,  
No woman can appease, nor man provoke?  Acast. 
I guess, Chamont, you come to seek Castalio.  Cham. 
I come to seek the Husband of Monimia.  Cast 
The Slave is here.  Cham. 
I thought e'er now to 'ave found you  
Atoning for the Ills you've done Chamont:  
For you have wronged the dearest part of him;  
Monimia, young Lord, weeps in this heart;  
And all the Tears the Injuries have drawn  
From her poor Eyes, are drops of Blood from hence.  Cast 
Then you are Chamont?  Cham. 
Yes, and I hope no Stranger  
To great Castalio.  Cast 
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. Acast. 
By this good Sword, who first presumes to violence  
Makes me his Foe—  Draws and interposes. 
Young Man, it once was thought  To Castalio. 
I was sit Guardian of my Houses Honour,  
And you might trust your share with me— For you  To Charm. 
Young Soldier, I must tell you, you have wronged me:  
I promised you to do Monimia right,  
And thought my word a Pledge I would not forfeit:  
But you I find would fright us to Performance.  Cast 
Sir, in my younger years with Care you taught me,  
That brave Revenge was due to injured 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 fliest for safety,  
Because thou know'st the place is sanctified  
With the Remembrance of an ancient Friendship.  Cast 
I am a Villain if I will not seek thee  
Till I may be revenged for all the wrongs  
Done me by that ungrateful Fair thou plead'st for.  Cham. 
She wrong 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.  Acast. 
Boy, don't disturb the Ashes of the dead  
With thy capricious Follies: The remembrance  
Of the loved Creature that once filled these Arms—  Cham. 
Has not been wronged.  Cast 
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 oppressed by thee, thou proud imperious Traitor.  Cast 
Ha! let me free.  Cham. 
Come both.  Enter Serina. Serin. 
Alas! alas!  
The cause of these disorders my Chamont?  
Who is't has wronged thee?  Casta. 
Now where art thou fled  
For shelter?  Cham. 
Come from thine, and see what safeguard  
Shall then betray my fears.  Serin. 
Cruel Castalio,  
Sheath up thy angry Sword, and done't affright me:  
Chamont let once Serina calm thy breast:  
If any of thy friends have done thee injuries,  
I'll be revenged, and love thee better for't.  Casta. 
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 than I am Castalio's Friend.  Cast 
Serina,  
Farewell, I wish much happiness attend you.  Serin. 
Chamont's the dearest thing I have on Earth;  
Give me Chamont, and let the world forsake me.  Cham. 
Witness the Gods, how happy I am in thee!  
No beauteous Blossom of the fragrant Spring,  
Though the fair Child of Nature newly born,  
Can be so lovely. Angry, unkind Castalio,  
Suppose I should a while lay by my passions,  
And be a beggar in Monimia's Cause,  
Might I be heard?  Cast 
Sir, 'twas my last request  
You would, though you I find will not be satisfied:  
So in a word, Monimia is my scorn;  
She basely sent you here to try my fears;  
That was your business.  
No artful Prostitute, in Falsehoods practised,  
To make advantage of her Coxcombs Follies,  
Could have done more— Disquiet vex her for't.  Cham. 
Farewell.  Cast 
Farewell.— My Father, you seem troubled.  Acast. 
Would I had been absent when this boisterous brane  
Came to disturb thee thus: I'm grieved I hindered  
Thy just resentment— But Monimia—  Cast 
Damn her.  Acast. 
Don't curse her.  Cast 
Did I?  Acast. 
Yes.  Cast 
I'm sorry for it.  Acast. 
Methinks, as if I guess the fault's but small,  
It might be pardoned.  Cast 
No.  Acast. 
What has she done?  Cast 
That she's my Wife, may Heaven and you forgive me.  Acast. 
Be reconciled then.  Cast 
No.  Acast. 
Go see her.  Cast 
No.  Acast. 
I'll send and bring her hither.  Cast 
No.  Acast. 
For my sake,  
Castalio, and the quiet of my age.  Cast 
Why will you urge a thing my Nature starts at?  Acast. 
Prithee forgive her.  Cast 
Lightnings first shall blast me.  
I tell you were she prostrate at my Feet,  
Full of her Sexes best dissembled sorrows,  
And all that wondrous Beauty of her own,  
My heart might break, but it should never soften.  Enter Florella. Flor. 
My Lord, where are you? Oh Castalio!  Acast. 
Hark.  Cast 
what's that?  Flor. 
Oh show me quickly where's Castalio.  Cast 
Why, what's the business?  Flor. 
Oh the poor Monimia!  Cast 
Ha!  Acast. 
What's the matter?  Flor. 
Hurried by despair  
She flies with fury over all the house,  
Through every Room of each apartment crying,  
where's my Castalio? give me my Castalio:  
Except she sees you, sure she'll grow distracted.  Cast 
Ha! will she? does she name Castalio?  
And with such tenderness? Conduct me quickly  
To the poor lovely mourner. Oh my Father.  Acast. 
Then wilt thou go? blessings attend thy purpose.  Cast 
I cannot hear Monimia's Soul's in sadness,  
And be a man, my heart will not forget her,  
But do not tell the world you saw this of me.  Acast. 
Delay not then but haste and cheer thy Love.  Cast 
Oh I will throw m'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!  Ex. Acast. Cast Enter Monimia. Mon. 
Stand off and give me Room,  
I will not rest till I have found Castalio.  
My wishes Lord comely as rising day,  
Amidst ten thousand eminently known.  
Flowers spring wherehe ere treads, his Eyes  
Fountains of brightness cheering all about him!  
When will they shine on me?— Oh stay my Soul!  
I cannot die in peace till I have seen him.  Castalio reenters. Cast 
Who talks of dying with a Voice so sweet,  
That life's in love with it?  Mon. 
Hark! 'tis he that answers:  
So in a Camp though at the dead of night,  
If but the Trumpets cheerful noise is heard,  
All at the signal leap from downy rest,  
And every heart awakes as mine does now.  
Where art thou?  Cast 
Here, my Love.  Mon. 
No nearer, lest I vanish.  Cast 
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.  Cast 
Is't then so hard, Monimia, to forgive  
A fault, where humble Love, like mine, implores thee?  
For I must love thee, though it prove my ruin.  
Which way shall I Court thee?  
What shall I do to be enough thy Slave,  
And satisfy the lovely pride that's in thee?  
I'll kneel to thee, and weep a flood before thee;  
Yet prithee, 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 so have wronged.  Cast 
Thou hast not wronged me.  Mon. 
Ah! alas, thou talk'st  
Just as thy poor Heart thinks; have not I wronged thee?  Cast 
No.  Mon. 
Still thou wanderest in the dark, Castalio;  
But wilt e'er long stumble on horrid danger.  Cast 
What means my Love!  Mon. 
Couldst thou but forgive me?  Cast 
What?  Mon. 
For my fault last night; Alas, thou canst not.  Cast 
I can, and do.  Mon. 
Thus Crawling on the Earth  
Would I that Pardon meet; the only thing,  
Can make me view the Face of Heaven with hope.  Cast 
Then let's draw near.  Mon. 
Ah me!  Cast 
So in the Fields,  
When the destroyer has been out for prey,  
The scattered Lovers of the Feathered kind,  
Seeking when danger's passed to meet again,  
Make moan, and call, by such degrees approach;  
Till joying thus they bill, and spread their wing▪  
Murmuring Love, and Joy, their fears are over.  Mon. 
Yet have a care be not too fond of peace,  
Lest in Pursuance of the goodly quarry,  
Thou meet a disappointment that distracts thee.  Cast 
My better Angel, then do thou inform me,  
What danger threatens me, and where it lies:  
Why didst thou (prithee smile and tell me why)  
When I stood waiting underneath the Window,  
Quaking with fierce and violent desires;  
The dropping dews fell cold upon my head,  
Darkness enclosed, and the Winds whistled round me;  
Which with my mournful sighs made such sad Music,  
As might have moved the hardest heart: Why wert thou  
Deaf to my Cries and senseless of my pains?  Mon. 
Did I not beg thee to forbear inquiry?  
Readest thou not something in my face that speaks  
Wonderful change and horror from within me?  Cast 
Then there is something yet which I've not known;  
What dost thou mean by horror, and forbearance  
Of more inquiry; tell me, I beg thee, tell me;  
And do not betray me to a second madness.  Mon. 
Must I?  Cast 
If labouring 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—  Cast 
What means my destiny?  
For all my good or evil Fate dwells in thee:  
ne'er meet again!  Mon. 
No, never.  Cast 
Where's the power  
On Earth, that dares not look like thee, and say so,  
Thou art my heart's inheritance, I served  
A long and painful, 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 resolved,  
(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.  Cast 
Where am I? sure I wander midst Enchantment,  
And never more shall find the way to rest;  
But, oh Monimia, art th' indeed resolve▪ d,  
To punish me with everlasting absence;  
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 embarked;  
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.  Ex. Mon. Mon. 
A poor Castalio!  Cast 
Pity, by the Gods,  
She pity me; then thou wilt go Eternally?  
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 have little knowledge, and that makes us Cowards.  
Because it cannot tell us what's to come.  Cast 
who's there?  Pol. 
Why, what art thou?  Cast 
My Brother Polydore!  Polyd. 
My Name is Polydore.  Cast 
Canst thou inform me?  Polyd. 
Of what?  Cast 
Of my Monimia?  Polyd. 
No. Good-day.  Cast 
In haste?  
Methinks my Polydore appears in sadness.  Polyd. 
Indeed and so to me does my Castalio.  Cast 
Do I?  Polyd. 
Thou dost.  Cast 
Alas! I've wondrous reason;  
I'm strangely altered, Brother, since I saw thee.  Polyd. 
Why?  Cast 
Oh, to tell thee would but put thy heart  
To pain, let me embrace thee but a little,  
And weep upon thy Neck; I would repose  
Within thy friendly bosom all my Follies,  
For thou wilt pardon 'em, because theyare mine.  Polyd. 
Be not too credulous, consider first,  
Friends may be false. Is there no Friendship false?  Cast 
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.  Polyd. 
I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.  Cast 
Dost thou not love me then?  Polyd. 
Oh, more than life:  
I never had a thought of my Castalio  
Might wrong the Friendship we had vowed together.  
Hast thou dealt so by me?  Cast 
I hope I have.  Polyd. 
Then tell me why this mourning, this disorder?  Cast 
Oh, Polydore, I know not how to tell thee;  
Shame rises in my Face, and interrupts  
The Story of my Tongue.  Polyd. 
I grieve my Friend  
Knows any thing which he's ashamed to tell me;  
Or didst thou ere conceal thy thoughts from Polydore?  Cast 
Oh, much too oft.  
But let me here conjure thee,  
By all the kind affection of a Brother,  
(For I am ashamed to call myself thy Friend)  
Forgive me.  Pol. 
Well, go on.  Cast 
Our Destiny contrived  
To plague us both with one unhappy Love!  
Thou like a Friend, a constant generous Friend,  
In its first pangs didst trust me with thy passion,  
Whilst I still smoothed my pain with smiles before thee,  
And made a Contract I ne'er meant to keep.  Pol. 
How!  Cast 
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?  Cast 
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?  Cast 
How my heart throbs!  Pol. 
First, for thy Friendship, Traitor,  
I canceled thus; after this day, I'll ne'er  
Hold trust, or converse, with the false Castalio:  
This, witness Heaven.  Cast 
What will my Fate do with me?  
I've lost all happiness, and know not why:  
What means this, Brother?  Pol. 
Perjured, Treacherous Wretch,  
Farewell.  Cast 
I'll be thy Slave, and thou shalt use me  
just as thou wilt, do but forgive me.  Pol. 
Never.  Cast 
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 A versions still employed our thoughts;  
When-e're had I a Friend, that was not Pollydore's,  
Or Polydore a Foe, that was not mine?  
Even in the Womb we embraced, and wilt thou now,  
For the first Fault, abandon, and forsake me,  
Leave me amidst Afflictions to myself,  
Plunged in the gulf of grief and none to help me?  Pol. 
Go to Monimia, in her Arms thou'lt find  
Repose; She has the Art of healing sorrows.  Cast 
What Arts?  Pol. 
Blind Wretch, thou Husband! there's a question;  
Go to her fulsome bed, and wallow there,  
Till some hot Ruffian, full of lust, and wine,  
Come storm thee out, and show thee what's thy Bargain.  Cast 
Hold there, I charge thee.  Pol. 
Is she not a—  Cast 
Whore?  Pol. 
Ay, Whore, I think that word needs no explaining.  Cast 
Alas, I can forgive, even this to thee;  
But let me tell thee, Polydore, I'm grieved,  
To find thee guilty of such low Revenge,  
To wrong that Virtue which thou couldst not ruin.  Pol. 
It seems I lie then.  Cast 
Should the bravest man  
That e'er wore Conquering 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.  Cast 
Do, draw thy Sword, and thrust it through my heart;  
There's no Joy in life; if thou art lost.  
A base born Villain.  Pol. 
Yes, thou never camest  
From old Acasto's Loins, the Midwife put  
A cheat upon my Mother, and instead  
Of a true Brother, in the Cradle by me  
Placed some course Peasant's Cub, and thou art he.  Cast 
Thou art my Brother still.  Pol. 
Thou liest.  Cast 
Nay, then:  
Yet I am Calm.  He draws. Pol. 
A Coward's always so.  Cast 
Ah— ah— that stings home: Coward?  Pol. 
Ay, base born Coward, Villain.  Cast 
This to thy heart then, though my Mothore bore thee.  Fight, Polydore drops his Sword, and runs on Castal. Pol. 
Now my Castalio is again my Friend.  Cast 
What have I done! My Sword is in thy Breast.  Pol. 
So I would have it be, thou best of men,  
Thou kindest Brother, and thou truest Friend.  Cast 
Ye Gods, we're taught, that all your works are Justice,  
You're painted merciful, and Friends to innocence;  
If so, then why these plagues upon my head?  Pol. 
Blame not the heavens', here lies thy Fate Castalio;  
theyare not the Gods, 'tis Polydore has wronged thee;  
I've stained thy Bed, thy spotless Marriage— Joys  
Have been polluted by thy Brothers Lust.  Cast 
By thee!  Pol. 
By me last night the horrid deed  
Was done; when all things slept, but Rage, and Incest.  Cast 
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.  Cast 
Ay, Brother's Blood;  
Art thou prepared for Everlasting pains?  Pol. 
Oh let me charge thee by th' Eternal justice,  
Hurt not her tender life!  Cast 
Not kill her? Rack me,  
Ye Powers above, with all your choicest Torments,  
Horror of mind and pains yet uninvented,  
If I not practise cruelty upon her,  
And treat revenge some way, yet never known.  Mon. 
That task myself have finished, I shall die  
Before we part: I've drunka healing draught  
For all my Cares, and never more shall wrong thee.  Pol. 
Oh she's innocent.  Cast 
Tell me that Story,  
And thou wilt make a wretch of me indeed.  Pol. 
Hadst thou, Castalio, used me like a Friend,  
This ne'er had happened, hadst thou let me know  
Thy Marriage, we had all now met in Joy;  
But ignorant of that,  
Hearing th' appointment made, enraged to think  
Thou hadst outdone 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, deceived Monimia,  
Embraced, Carest, and called me her Castalio.  Cast 
And all this is the work of my own Fortune,  
None but myself coulde're have been so cursed,  
My Fatal Love, alas! has ruined thee,  
Thou fairest, goodliest Frame the God's e'er made,  
Or ever humane eyes, and hearts adored,  
I've murdered too my Brother,  
Why wouldst thou study ways to damn me further  
And force the sin of Parricide upon me?  Pol. 
'Twas my own Fault, and thou art innocent,  
Forgive the barbarous trespass of my Tongue,  
'Twas a hard violence; I could have died  
With Love of thee, even when I used thee worst;  
Nay, at each word that my Distraction uttered,  
My heart recoiled, and 'twas half death to speak 'em.  Mon. 
Now, my Castalio, the most dear of men,  
Wilt thou receive pollution to thy Bosom,  
And close the eyes of one that has betrayed thee?  Cast 
Oh I'm the unhappy wretch, whose cursed Fate  
Has weighed thee down into destruction with him,  
Why then thus kind to me?  Mon. 
When I'm laid low in the Grave, and quite forgotten,  
Mayst thou be happy in a fairer Bride;  
But none can ever love thee like Monimia.  
When I am dead, as presently I shall be;  
(For the grim Tyrant grasps my heart already)  
Speak well of me, and if thou find ill tongues  
Too busy with my fame▪ don't hear me wronged,  
'Twill be a noble Justice to the memory  
Of a poor wretch, once honoured with thy Love.  
How my head swims! 'tis very dark: Good night.  Dies. Cast 
If I survive thee, what a thought was that?  
Thank Heaven I go prepared against that Curse.  Enter Chamont disarmed, and seized by Acasto, and Servants. Cham. 
Gape, Hell, and swallow me to quick Damnation,  
If I forgive your House, If I not live  
An Everlasting plague to thee, Acasto,  
And all thy Race. Y' have o'er powered me now;  
But hear me, Heaven! Ah, here's the Scene of Death,  
My Sister, my Monimia! Breathless! Now,  
Ye Powers above, if you've Justice, strike,  
Strike Bolts through me, and through the cursed Castalio.  Acast. 
My Ploydore.  Pol. 
Who calls?  Acast. 
How cam'st thou wounded?  Cast 
Stand off thou hot-brained boisterous noisy Ruffian,  
And leave me to my sorrows.  Cham. 
By the love  
I bore her living, I will ne'er forsake,  
But here remain till my heart bursts with sobbing.  Cast 
Vanish, I charge thee, or—  Draws a Dagger. Cham. 
Thou canst not kill me,  
That would be kindness, and against thy Nature.  Acast. 
What means Castalio? Sure thou wilt not pull  
More sorrows on thy Aged Father's head.  
Tell me, I beg you, tell me the sad cause  
Of all this ruin.  Pol. 
That must be my Task▪  
But 'tis too long for one in pains to tell;  
You'll in my Closet find the story written,  
Of all our woes. Castalio's innocent,  
Andso's Monimia, only I'm to blame:  
Inquire no farther.  Cast 
Thou unkind, Chamont,  
Unjustly hast pursued me with thy hate,  
And sought the life of him that never wronged thee,  
Now if thou wilt embrace a noble vengeance,  
Come join with me and curse.  Cham. 
What?  Cast 
First thyself,  
As I do, and the hour that gave thee birth:  
Confusion and disorder seize the World,  
To spoil all trust and converse amongst men▪  
'Twixt Families engender endless feuds,  
In Countries needless fears, in City's factions,  
In State's Rebellion, and in Church's Schism:  
Till all things move against the course of Nature;  
Till Forms dissolved, the Chain of Causes broken,  
And the Originals of Being lost.  Acast. 
Have Patience.  Cast 
Patience! preach it to the Winds,  
To roaring Seas, or raging Fires; the Knaves  
That teach it laugh at ye, when ye believe'em.  
Strip me of all the common needs of life,  
Scald me with Leprosy, let Friends forsake me,  
I'll bear it all; but cursed to the degree  
That I am now, 'tis this must give me patience:  
Thus I find rest, and shall complain no more.  Stabs himself Pol. 
Castalio! Oh!  Cast 
〈◊〉 me.  
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 wronged, 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 plagued us.  
'Tis thus that Heaven its Empire does maintain,  
It may Afflict, but man must not Complain.   

Epilogue.  
YOu've seen one Orphan ruined here, and I  
May be the next, if old Acasto die:  
Should it prove so, I'd fain amongst you find,  
Who 'tis would to the fatherless be kind.  
To whose protection might I safely go?  
Is there amongst you no good Nature? No.  
What should I do? should I the Godly seek,  
And go a Conventicling twice a Week?  
Quit the lewd Stage, and its profane pollution,  
Affect each Form and Saintlike Institution,  
So draw the Brethren all to Contribution?  
Or shall I (is I guess the Poet may  
Within these three days) fairly run away?  
No, to some City Lodgings I'll retire,  
Seem very grave, and privacy desire:  
Till I am thought some Heiress rich in Lands,  
Fled to escape a cruel Guardian's hands;  
Which may produce a Story worth the telling,  
Of the next Sparks that go a Fortune-stealing.  
FINIS.