Why wouldst thou study ways to damn me farther ? And force the sin of parricide upon me? 541 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, e'en when I us'd thee worst; Nay, at each word that my distraction utter'd, My heart recoil'd, 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 betray'd thee? Cast. Oh, I'm th' unhappy wretch, whose cursed fate Has weigh'd thee down into destruction with him. Mon. When I am laid low i'th'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 wrong'd; 560 'Twill be a noble justice to the memory Of a poor wretch, once honour'd with thy love. head swims! 'tis very dark. Good night. How my [Dies. Cast. If I survive thee-what a thought was that? Thank Heav'n, I go prepar'd against that curse. Enter CHAMONT, disarmed and seiz'd by Acasto and servants. Cha. Gape earth, and swallow me to quick destruction, If I forgive your house! if I not live An everlasting plague to thee, Acasto, And all thy race. Ye've o'erpower'd me now; Ye pow'rs above, if ye have justice, strike Strike bolts thro' me, and through the curs'd Castalio. "Acast. My Polydore ! "Pol. Who calls? "Acast. How cam'st thou wounded?" Cast. Stand off, thou hot-brain'd, boist'rous, noisy ruffian, And leave me to my sorrows. Cha. By the love I bore her living, I will ne'er forsake her; 580 But here remain, 'till my heart burst with sobbing. Cast. Vanish, I charge thee, or- [Draws a dagger. Cha. Thou canst not kill me; That would be kindness, and against thy nature. Tell me, I beg you, tell me the sad cause 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, And so's Monimia; only I'm to blame. Enquire no farther. Cast. Thou, unkind Chamont, Unjustly hast pursu'd me with thy hate, And sought the life of him that never wrong'd thee: Cha. 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 cities factions, In states rebellion, and in churches schism: 'Till all things move against the course of nature: 'Till form's dissolv'd, the chain of causes broken, And the original of being lost. Acast. Have patience. Cast. Patience! preach it to the winds, The roaring seas, or raging fires! the knaves 6co [Stabs himself. "Pol. Castalio! oh! Cast. "I come." Chamont, to thee my birth-right I bequeath; 620 [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 wrong'd, be kind to poor Serina. Now, all I beg, is, lay me in one grave Thus with my love. Farewel. I now am nothing. [Dies. Cha. Take care of good Acasto, whilst I go To search the means by which the fates have plagu'd us. 'Tis thus that Heav'n its empire does maintain; It may afflict, but man must not complain. THE END. [Exeunt omnes. EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY SERINA. YOU'VE seen one orphan ruin'd 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 among you no good.nature? No. What shall 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 saint-like institution; So draw the brethren all to contribution? Or shall 1, (as 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. |