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so too.

Avoid the politic, the factious fool,

Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest, The busy, buzzing, talking, hardened knave, Praise the kind gods, and wonder at his virtues. The quaint smooth rogue, that sins against his Acast. Chamont, pursue her, conquer and posreason,

sess her, Calls saucy loud suspicion public zeal,

And, as my son, the third of all my fortune And mutiny, the dictates of his spirit :

Shall be thy lot. Be very careful how you make new friends, But keep thy eyes from wandering, man of frailty, Men read not morals now : 'twas a custom : Beware the dangerous beauty of the wanton; But all are to their father's vices born;

Shun their enticements; ruin, like a vulture, And in their mother's ignorance are bred. Waits on their conquests : falsehood too's their Let marriage be the last mad thing you do,

business; For all the sins and follies of the past.

They put false beauty off to all the world, If you have children, never give them knowledge; Use false endearments to the fools that love them, Twill spoil their fortune; fools are all the fashion; And, when they marry, to their silly husbands If you have religion, keep it to yourselves; They bring false virtue, broken fame and for-, Atheists will else make use of toleration, And laugh you out of it. Never shew religion, Mon. Hear

ye that, my lord? Except you mean to pass for knaves of conscience, Pob Yes, my fair monitor, old men alway And cheat believing fools, that think ye honest.

talk thus.

Acast. Chamont, you told me of some doubts, Enter SERINA.

that pressed you; Ser. My father!

Are you yet satisfied that I'm your friend? Acast. My heart's darling !

Cha. My lord, I would not lose that satisfacSer. Let my knees

tion Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest, For any blessing I could wish for. But wake and weep, till Heaven restore my father. As to my fears, already I have lost them; Acast. Rise to my arms, and thy kind prayers They ne'er shall vex me more, nor trouble you. are answered.

Acast. I thank you. Daughter, you must do For thou art a wondrous extract of all goodness, Born for ny joy, and no pains felt when near My friends, 'tis late; thee.

Now my disorder seems all past and over, Chamont !

And I, methinks, begin to feel new health.

Cast. Would you but rest, it might restore you Enter CHAMONT,

quite. Cha. My lord, may it prove not an unlucky Acast. Yes, I'll to bed; old men must humour

weakness : Many, I see, are waiting round about you, Let me have music, then, to lull and chase And I am come to ask a blessing too!

This melancholy thought of death away. Acast. Mayest thou be happy!

Good-night, my friends; Heaven guard ye all ! Cha. Where?

good-night! Acast. In all thy wishes.

To-morrow carly we'll salute the day, Cha. Confirm me so, and make this fair one Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time. mine;

[Ereunt all but Chamont and Chaplain. I am unpractised in the trade of courtship, Cha. Hist, hist, Sir Gravity, a word with you. And know not how to deal out love with art: Chap. With me, sir ! Onsets in love seem best like those in'war, Cha. If you're at leisure, sir, we'll waste an Tierce, resolute, and done with all the force;

hour, So I would open my whole heart at once, 'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and 'twill be charity And pour out the abundance of my soul. To lend your conversation to a stranger. Acast. What says Serina? Canst thou love a Chap. Sir, you are a soldier? soldier?

Cha. Yes. One born to honour, and to honour bred?

Chap. I love a soldier. One that has learned to treat even foes with And had been one myself, but that my parents kindness;

Would make me what you see ipe : yet I'm hoTo wrong no man's good fame, nor praise him- nest, self?

For all I wear black. Ser. Oh! name not love, for that's allied to Cha. And that is a wonder. joy,

Have you had long dependence on this family?'. And joy inust be a stranger to my heart,

Chap. I have not thought it 60, because my When you are in danger. May Chamont's good time is fortune

Spent pleasantly. My lord's not haughty nor imRender him lovely to some happier maid!



Nor.I gravely whimsical; he has good nature, Cha. Why, what affrights thee?
And I have manners.

Chap. You do,
His sons too are civil to me, because

Who are not to be trusted with the secret.
I do not pretend to be wiser than they are. Cha. Why? I am no fool.
I meddle with no man's business, but my own; Chap. So indeed you say,
I rise in a morning early, study moderately, Cha. Prithee be serious then.
Eat and drink chearfully, live soberly,

Chap. You see I am so,
Take my innocent pleasure freely;

And hardly shall be mad enough to-night So meet with respect, and am not the jest of the To trust you with my ruin. family.

Cha. Art thou then Cha. I'm glad you are so happy.

So far concerned in it? What has been thy office? A pleasant fellow this, and may be useful. [Aside. Curse on that formal steady villain's face ! Knew you my father, the old Chamont? Just so do all bawds look : nay, bawds, they say, Chup. I did, and was most sorry, when we lost Can pray upon occasions, talk of heaven, him.

Turn up their

, goggling eye-balls, rail at vice, Cha. Why? didst thou love him?

Dissemble, lie, and preach like any priest. Chap. Every body loved him; besides he was Art thou a bawd ? my master's friend.

Chap. Sir, I am not often used thus,
Cha. I could embrace thee for that very notion. Cha. Be just then.
If thou didst love my father, I could think Chap. So I shall be to the trust,
Thou wouldst not be an enemy to me.

That is laid upon me.
Chap. I can be no'man's foe.

Cha. By the reverenced soul Cha. Then prithee tell me,

Of that great honest man, that gave me being, Think'st thou the lord Castalio loves my sister? Tell me but what thou knowest concerns my Nay, never start. · Come, come, I know thy honour, office

And if I e'er reveal it to thy wrong, Opens thee all the secrets of the family; May this good sword ne'er do me right in battle! Then, if thou’rt honest, use this freedom kindly. May I ne'er know that blessed peace of mind, Chup. Love your sister !

That dwells in good and pious men like thee ! Cha. Ay, love her.

Chap. I see your temper's moved, and I will Chap. Sir, I never asked him, And wonder you should ask it me.

Cha. Wilt thou ? Cha. Nay, but thou art an hypocrite; is there Chap. I will; but if it ever escape you

Cha. It never shall. Of all thy tribe that's honest? In your schools Chap. Swear then. The pride of your superiors makes ye slaves; Cha. I do, by all Ye all live loathsome, sneaking, servile lives; That's dear to me, by the honour of my name, Not free enough to practice generous truth, And by that power I serve, it never shall

. Though ye pretend to teach it to the world. Chap. Then this good day, when all the house Chap. I would deserve a better thought from was busy, you,

When mirth and kind rejoicing filled each room, Cha. If thou wouldst have me not contemn As I was walking in the grove, I met them. thy office

Cha. What! met them in the grove together? And character, think all thy brethren knaves, Thy trade a clieat, and thou its worst professor, How, walking, standing, sitting, lying, ha! Inform me; for I tell thee, priest, I'll know. Chap. I, by their own appointment, met them Chap. Either he loves her, or he much has there, wronged her.

Received their marriage-vows, and joined their Cha. How! wronged her? Have a care, for hands. this may lay

Cha. How, married ! A scene of mischief to undo us all.

Chap. Yes, sir. But tell me, wronged her, saidst thou?

Cha. Then my soul's at peace. Chap. Ay, sir, wronged her,

But why would you so long delay to give it. Cha. This is a secret worth a monarch's for- Chap. Not knowing what reception it may find

With old Acasto; may be I was too cautious What shall I give thee for it? Thou dear physician To trust the secret from me. Of sickly souls, unfold this riddle to me,

Cha. What's the cause And comfort inine

I cannot guess, though it is my sister's honour, Chap. I would bide nothing from you willingly. I do not like this marriage, Cha. Nay, then again thou art honest. Would'st Huddled in the dark, and done at too much thou tell me?

venture; Chap. Yes, if I durst.

The business looks with an unlucky face.

trust you.

not one

Tell me

tune :

Keep still the secret; for it ne'er shall escape | But speak not the least word; for if you should, me,

'Tis surely heard, and all will be betrayed. Not ev'n to them, the new matched pair. Fare- Cast. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys well.

Shall be as silent as the ecstatic bliss Believe my truth, and know me for thy friend. Of souls, that by intelligence converse !

[Exit. Immortal pleasures shall our senses drown,

Thought shall be lost, and every power dissolved. Enter CASTALIO and MONIMIA.

Away, my love; first take this kiss. Now haste. Cast. Young Chamont and the chaplain? sure I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute 'tis they!


[Erit. Mon. No matter what's contrived, or who consulted, My brother wandering too so late this way! Since my Monimia's mine ; though this sad look Pol. Castalio! Seems no good boding omen to her bliss;

Cast. My Polydore, how dost thou? Else prithee tell. me why that look cast down? How does our father? Is he well recovered? Why that

sad sigh, as if thy heart was breaking ? Pol. I left him happily reposed to rest; Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we have He's still as gay as if his life were young. done.

But how does fair Monimia?
The heavenly powers were sure displeased to-day; Cast. Doubtless, well :
For at the ceremony as we stood,

A cruel beauty, with her conquest, pleased,
And as your hand was kindly joined with mine, Is always joyful, and her mind in health.
As the good priest pronounced the sacred words, Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was?
Passion grew big, and I could not forbear, May we not hope she's made of mortal mould?
Tears drowned my eyes, and trembling seized my Cast. She's not woinan else:

Though I am grown weary of this tedious hoping; What should that mean?

We have in a barren desert strayed too long. Cast. Oh, thou art tender all!

Pol. Yet may' relief be unexpected found, Gentle and kind as sympathising nature ! And love's sweet manna cover all the field. When a sad story has been told, I have seen Met ye to-day? Thy little breasts, with soft compassion swelled, Cast. No; she has still avoided me: Move up and down, and heave like dying birds. Her brother, too, is jealous of her grown, But now let fear be banished, think no more And has been hinting something to my father, Of danger; for there's safety in my arms; I wish I had never meddled with the matter : Let them receive thee. Heaven grows jealous And would enjoin thee, Polydorenow;

Pol. To what? Sure she's too good for any mortal creature! Cast. To leave this peevish beauty to herself. I could grow wild, and praise thee even to mad- Pol. What, quit my love? As soon I would

quit my post But wherefore do I dally with my bliss? In fight, and, like a coward, run away. The night's far spent, and day draws on apace; No, by my stars, I'll chase her, till she yields To bed, my love, and wake till I come thither. To me, or meets her rescue in another.

Pol. So hot, my brother! [Polydore at the door. Cast. Nay, she has beauty, that might shake Mon. 'Twill be impossible;

the leagues You know your father's chamber is next to mine, Of miyhty kings, and set the world at odds; And the least noise will certainly alarm him. But I have wondrous reasons on my side, Cast. Impossible ! impossible! alas :

That would persuade thee, were they known. Is it impossible to live one hour without thee? Pol. Then speak them : Let me behold those eyes; they'll tell me truth. What are they? Came ye to her window here, Hast thou no longing? art thou still the same To learn them now? Castalio, have a care; Cold, icy virgin? No; thou art altered quite : Use honest dealing with a friend and brother. Haste, haste to bed, and let loose all thy wishes. Believe me, I am not with my love so blinded, Mon. 'Tis but one night, my lord; I pray be But can discern your purpose to abuse me. ruled.

Quit your pretences to her. Cast. Try if thou hast power to stop a flowing Cast. Grant I do; tide,

You love capitulations, Polydore, Or in a tempest make the seas be calm; And but upon conditions would oblige me. And, when that is done, I'll conquer my desires. Pol. You say you have reasons; why are they No more, my blessing. What shall be the sign? concealed? When shall I come for to my joys I'll steal,

Cast. To-morrow I may tell you. As if I ne'er had paid my freedom for them. Pol. Why not now? Mon. Just three soft strokes upon the cham- Cast. It is a matter of such conseqnence, ber door;

As I must well consult ere I reveal. And at that signal you shall gain admittance : But prithec cease to think I would abuse thee,


ways kind

'Till more be known.

Page. Doubt not, my lord. He has been at Pol. When you, Castalio, cease To meet Monimia unknown to me,

To me; "would often set me on his knee, And then deny it slavishly, I'M cease

Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy, To think Castalio faithless to his friend.

And ask me what the maids talked of at nights. Did not I see you part this very moment? Pol. Run quickly, then, and prosp'rous be thy Cast. It seems you have watched me, then?


[Erit Page. Pol. I scorn the office.

Here I am alone, and fit for mischief; now Cast. Prithee avoid a thing thou mayest re- To cheat this brother, will it be honest that is pent.

I heard the sign she ordered him to give. Pol. That is henceforward making leagues with O, for the art of Proteus, but to change you.

The unhappy Polydore to blest Castalio! Cast. Nay, if you are angry, Polydore, good- she is not so well acquainted with brim yet, night.

[Erit. But I may fit her arms as well as he. Pol. Good-night, Castalio, if you are in such Then, when I am happily possessed of more haste.

Than sense can think, all loosened into joy, He little thinks I have overheard the appoint- To hear my disappointed brother come, ment;

And give the unregarded signal; Oh, But to his chamber's gone to wait a while, What a malicious pleasure will that be! Then come and take possession of my love. * Just three soft strokes against the chamber door; This is the utınost point of all my hopes;

But speak not the least word, for if you should, Or now she must, or never can be mine. • Tis surely heard, and we are both betrayed." 0, for a means now, how to counterplot, How I adore a mistress, that contrives And disappoint this happy elder brother! With care to lay the business of her joys; In every thing we do or undertake

One that has wit to charm the very soul, He soars above me, mount what height I can, And give a double relish to delight! And keeps the start he got of me in birth. Blest heavens, assist me but in this dear hour, Cordelio!

And my kind stars be but propitious now,

Dispose of me hereafter as you please.
Enter Page.
Monimia! Monimia !

[Gives the signes Page. My lord !

[Maid at the window.] Who's there? Pol. Come hither, boy.

Pol. 'Tis I. Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face,

Maid. My lord Castalio? And mavest in time expect preferment. Canst

Pol. The same. thou

How does my love, my dear Monimia?
Pretend to secrecy, cajole and flatter

Maid, Oh!
Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures? She wonders much at your unkind delay;

Page. My lord, I could do any thing for you, You have staid so long, that at each little noise And ever be a very faithful boy.

The wind but makes, she asks if you are coming. Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe; Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be Be it to run, or watch, or to convey


Maid descends. A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom;

Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn. Thyself strange stories of a promised bliss. Pol. 'Tis pity, then, thou should'st not be em

{The door unbolts. ployed.

opens ! Ha! what means my treinbling flesh? Go to my brother, he is in his chamber now, Limbs do your office, and support me well; Undressing, and preparing for his rest : Bear me to her, then—fail me if you can! (Erit. Find out some means to keep him up awhile; Tell him a pretty story, that may please

Enter Castalio and Page. His ear; invent a tale, no matter what:

Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely mornIf he should ask of me, tell him I am gone

ing :
To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure, Pray let us hunt.
Whether he will hunt to-morrow. Well said, Cast. Go, you are an idle prattler.

I'll stay at home to-morrow; if your lord Dissemble with thy brother ! that's one point. Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go,

[ Aside. But do not leave him, till he is in bed,

I must to bed. Or if he chance to walk again this way,

Page. I'll wait upon your lordship, Follow and do not quit him, but seem fond If you think fit, and sing you to repose. To do bim little offices of service.

Cast. No, my kind boy, the night is too far Perhaps at last it may offend him; then

wasted; Retire, and wait till I come in. Away: My senses are quite disrobed of thought, Succeed in this, and be employed again. And ready all with me to go to rest.

leave me,


I am weary.


Good-night. Commend me to my brother. The feeling air's at rest, and feels no noise, Page. Oh!

Except of some soft breeze among the trees, You never heard the last new song I learned ! Rocking the harmless birds that rest upon them. It is the finest, prettiest song indeed,

"Tis that, guided by my love, I go Of ny dord and my lady, you know who, that To take possession of my Mouimia's charms. were caught

Sure Polydore's by this time gone to bed. Together, you know where. My lord, indeed it is. At midnight thus the usurer steals untracked, Cast. You must be whipped, youngster, if you To make a visit to his hoarded gold, get such soirgs as those are.

And feasts his eyes upon the shining mammon. What means this boy's impertinence to-night?

Knocks. Page. What, what must I sing, pray, my dear She hears me not; sure she already sleeps; lord ?

Her wishes could not brook so long delay, Cast. Psalms, child, psalms.

And her poor heart has beat itself to rest. Page. Oh, dear me! boys that go to school

[Knocks again. learn psalms :

Monimia! my angel !-ha-not yetBut

pages, that are better bred, sing lampoons. How long's the shortest moment of delay, Cast. Well, leave me.

To a heart impatient of its pangs like mine, Page. Oh! but you promised me, the last time In sight of ease, and panting to the goal. I told you what colour my lady Monimia's stock

[Knocks again. ings were of, and that she gartered them above Once more knee, that you would give me a little horse to go Maid. [At the window.] Who's there, a hunting upon, so you did. I'll tell you no more That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest? stories, except you keep your word with me. Cast. 'Tis I. Cast. Well, go, you trifler, and to-inorrow ask Maid. Who are you? What's your name?

Cust. Suppose the lord Castalio. Page. Indeed, my lord, I can't abide to leave Maid. I know you not. you.

The lord Castalio has no business here. Cast. Why, wert thou instructed to attend me? Cast. Ha! have a care; what can this mean!

Page. No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not; Whoe'er thou art, I charge thee to Monimia fly; But I know what I know.

Tell her I'm here, and wait upon my doom. Cast. What dost thou know? Death! what Muid. Whoe'er you are, ye may repent this can all this mean?

outrage. Page. Oh! I know who loves somebody. My lady must not be disturbed. Good-night. Cast. What's that to me, boy?

Cast. She must; tell her she shall. Go, I'm Page. Nay, I know who loves you too.

in haste, Cast. That's a wonder! prithee tell it me. And bring her tidings from the State of Love;

Paye. 'Tis,—'tis—I know who but will They are all in consultation met together, You give me the horse, then?

How to reward my truth, and crown her vows. Cast. I will, my child.

Maid. Sure the man's inad! Page. It is my lady Monimia, look you ; but Cast. Or this will make me so. don't you tell her I told you; she'll give me no Obey me, or by all the wrongs I suffer, more play-things then. heard her say so, as she I'll scale the window, and come in by force, lay a-bed, man.

Let the sad consequence be what it will ! Cast. Talk'd she of me, when in her bed, Cor- This creature's triflug folly makes me mad! delio?

Maid. My lady's answer is, you may depart. Page. Yes, and I sung her the song you made, She says she knows you; you are Polydore, too; and she did so sigh, and so look with her Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day, eyes; and her breasts did so lift up and down, I To affront and do her violence again. could have found in my heart to have beat them, Cast. l'll not believe it. for they inade me ashamed.

Maid. You may, sir. Cast. Hark! what's that noise?

Cast. Curses blast thee! Take this, begone, and leave me.

Maid. Well, 'tis a fine cool evening; and, I You knave, you little fatterer, get you gone!


[Erit Page. May cure the raging fever in your blood. Surely it was a noise ! hist-only fancy; Good-night. For all is hushed, as Nature were retired,

Cast. And farewell all that's just in women! And the perpetual motion standing still,

This is contrived; a studied trick, to abuse So much she from her work appears to cease. My easy nature, and torment my mind. And every warring element's at peace :

Sure now she's bound me fast, and means to lorit All the wild herds are in the coverts couched;

it, The fishes to their banks or ouze repaired, To rein me hard, and ride me at her will, And to the murmurs of the waters sleep; 'Till by degrees she shape me into fool,

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