SCENE I.--_Inside a Church.

_Enter the funeral of_ MONTFERRERS.

_D'Am._ Set down the body. Pay Earth what she lent. But she shall bear a living monument To let succeeding ages truly know That she is satisfied what he did owe, Both principal and use; because his worth Was better at his death than at his birth.

[_A dead march. Enter the funeral of_ CHARLEMONT _as a_ Soldier.

_D'Am._ And with his body place that memory Of noble Charlemont, his worthy son; And give their graves the rites that do belong To soldiers. They were soldiers both. The father Held open war with sin, the son with blood: This in a war more gallant, that more good. [_The first volley._

_D'Am._ There place their arms, and here their epitaphs And may these lines survive the last of graves. [_Reads._

"_The Epitaph of_ MONTFERRERS.

"Here lie the ashes of that earth and fire, Whose heat and fruit did feed and warm the poor! And they (as if they would in sighs expire, And into tears dissolve) his death deplore. He did that good freely for goodness' sake Unforced, for generousness he held so dear That he feared but Him that did him make And yet he served Him more for love than fear. So's life provided that though he did die A sudden death, yet died not suddenly.

"_The Epitaph of_ CHARLEMONT.

"His body lies interred within this mould, Who died a young man yet departed old, And in all strength of youth that man can have Was ready still to drop into his grave. For aged in virtue, with a youthful eye He welcomed it, being still prepared to die, And living so, though young deprived of breath He did not suffer an untimely death, But we may say of his brave blessed decease He died in war, and yet he died in peace." [_The second volley._

_D'Am._ O might that fire revive the ashes of This Phœnix! yet the wonder would not be So great as he was good, and wondered at For that. His life's example was so true A practique of religion's theory That her divinity seemed rather the Description than the instruction of his life. And of his goodness was his virtuous son A worthy imitator. So that on These two Herculean pillars where their arms Are placed there may be writ _Non ultra_.[156] For Beyond their lives, as well for youth as age, Nor young nor old, in merit or in name, Shall e'er exceed their virtues or their fame. [_The third volley._ 'Tis done. Thus fair accompliments make foul Deeds gracious. Charlemont, come now when thou wilt, I've buried under these two marble stones Thy living hopes, and thy dead father's bones. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ CASTABELLA _mourning, to the monument of_ CHARLEMONT.

_Cast._ O thou that knowest me justly Charlemont's, Though in the forced possession of another, Since from thine own free spirit we receive it That our affections cannot be compelled Though our actions may, be not displeased if on The altar of his tomb I sacrifice My tears. They are the jewels of my love Dissolved into grief, and fall upon His blasted Spring, as April dew upon A sweet young blossom shaked before the time.

_Enter_ CHARLEMONT _with a_ Servant.

_Charl._ Go see my trunks disposed of. I'll but walk A turn or two i' th' church and follow you. [_Exit_ Servant. O! here's the fatal monument of my Dead father first presented to mine eye. What's here?--"In memory of Charlemont?" Some false relation has abused belief. I am deluded. But I thank thee, Heaven. For ever let me be deluded thus. My Castabella mourning o'er my hearse? Sweet Castabella, rise. I am not dead.

_Cast._ O Heaven defend me! [_Falls in a swoon._

_Charl._ I--Beshrew my rash And inconsiderate passion.--Castabella! That could not think--my Castabella!--that My sudden presence might affright her sense.-- I prithee, my affection, pardon me. [_She rises._ Reduce thy understanding to thine eye. Within this habit, which thy misinformed Conceit takes only for a shape, live both The soul and body of thy Charlemont.

_Cast._ I feel a substance warm, and soft, and moist, Subject to the capacity of sense.[157]

_Charl._ Which spirits are not; for their essence is Above the nature and the order of Those elements whereof our senses are Created. Touch my lip. Why turn'st thou from me?

_Cast._ Grief above griefs! That which should woe relieve Wished and obtained, gives greater cause to grieve.

_Charl._ Can Castabella think it cause of grief That the relation of my death prove false?

_Cast._ The presence of the person we affect, Being hopeless to enjoy him, makes our grief More passionate than if we saw him not.

_Charl._ Why not enjoy? Has absence changed thee.

_Cast._ Yes. From maid to wife.

_Charl._ Art married?

_Cast._ O! I am.

_Charl._ Married?--Had not my mother been a woman, I should protest against the chastity Of all thy sex. How can the merchant or The mariners absent whole years from wives Experienced in the satisfaction of Desire, promise themselves to find their sheets Unspotted with adultery at their Return, when you that never had the sense Of actual temptation could not stay A few short months?

_Cast._ O! do but hear me speak.

_Charl._ But thou wert wise, and did'st consider that A soldier might be maimed, and so perhaps Lose his ability to please thee.

_Cast._ No. That weakness pleases me in him I have.

_Charl._ What, married to a man unable too? O strange incontinence! Why, was thy blood Increased to such a pleurisy of lust,[158] That of necessity there must a vein Be opened, though by one that had no skill To do't?

_Cast._ Sir, I beseech you hear me.

_Charl._ Speak.

_Cast._ Heaven knows I am unguilty of this act.

_Charl._ Why? Wert thou forced to do't?

_Cast._ Heaven knows I was.

_Charl._ What villain did it?

_Cast._ Your uncle D'Amville. And he that dispossessed my love of you Hath disinherited you of possession.

_Charl._ Disinherited? wherein have I deserved To be deprived of my dear father's love?

_Cast._ Both of his love and him. His soul's at rest; But here your injured patience may behold The signs of his lamented memory. [CHARLEMONT _finds his_ Father's _monument._ He's found it. When I took him for a ghost I could endure the torment of my fear More eas'ly than I can his sorrows hear. [_Exit._

_Charl._ Of all men's griefs must mine be singular? Without example? Here I met my grave. And all men's woes are buried i' their graves But mine. In mine my miseries are born, I prithee, sorrow, leave a little room In my confounded and tormented mind For understanding to deliberate The cause or author of this accident.-- A close advantage of my absence made To dispossess me both of land and wife, And all the profit does arise to him By whom my absence was first moved and urged, These circumstances, uncle, tell me you Are the suspected author of those wrongs, Whereof the lightest is more heavy than The strongest patience can endure to bear. [_Exit._