SCENE I.--_The Garden before_ ACASTO'S _House_.

CASTALIO _discovered 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.

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.

_Cast._ See where the deer 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 guess 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 ferment to madness! O 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 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 them wife: But a new-married wife's a teeming 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 learnt he 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 passed my word she shall have justice.

_Cast._ Justice! to give her justice would undo her: Think you this solitude I now have chosen, Left joys just opening to my sense, sought here A place to curse my fate in, measured out My grave at length, wished 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 ere now to have 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 thy injuries have drawn From her poor eyes are drops of blood from hence.

_Cast._ Then you're 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 fit guardian of my house's honour, And you might trust your share with me.--For you, [_To_ CHAMONT. 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 wronged 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! set me free.

_Cham._ Come both!

_Enter_ SERINA.

_Ser._ Alas! alas! The cause of these disorders, my Chamont? Who is't has wronged thee?

_Cast._ Now where art thou fled For shelter?

_Cham._ Come from thine, and see what safeguard Shall then betray my fears.

_Ser._ Cruel Castalio, Sheathe up thy angry sword, and don't affright me. Chamont, let once Serina calm thy breast; If any of my friends have done thee injuries, I'll be revenged, and love thee better for it.

_Cast._ Sir, if you'd have me think you did not take This opportunity to show your vanity, Let's meet some other time, when by ourselves We fairly may dispute our wrongs together.

_Cham._ Till then, I am Castalio's friend.

_Cast._ Serina, Farewell; I wish much happiness attend you.

_Ser._ 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'm 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 awhile lay by my passions, And be a beggar in Monimia's cause, Might it 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 coxcomb's follies, Could have done more--disquiet vex her for't!

_Cham._ Farewell. [_Exeunt_ CHAMONT _and_ SERINA.

_Cast._ Farewell.--My father, you seem troubled.

_Acast._ Would I'd been absent when this boisterous brave 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't.

_Acast._ Methinks, if, as 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._ Pr'ythee forgive her.

_Cast._ Lightnings first shall blast me! I tell you, were she prostrate at my feet, Full of her sex's best dissembled sorrows, And all that wondrous beauty of her own, My heart might break, but it should never soften.

_Enter_ FLORELLA.

_Flor._ My lord, where are you? O Castalio!

_Acast._ Hark!

_Cast._ What's that?

_Flor._ Oh, show me quickly, where's Castalio?

_Acast._ 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. O my father!

_Acast._ Then wilt thou go? Blessings attend thy purpose.

_Cast._ I cannot hear Monimia's soul 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 my impatient arms about her, In her soft bosom sigh my soul to peace: Till through the panting breast she finds the way To mould my heart, and make it what she will. Monimia! Oh! [_Exeunt._