ACT II. SCENE 1.

A Salloon. Enter Acasto,CASTALIO,and POLYDOR E.

Acasto.

To-day has been a day of glorious sport.
When you, Castalio, and your brother left me,
Forth from the thickets, rush'd another boar,
So large, he seem’d the tyrant of the woods,
With all his dreadful bristles rais'd up high,
They seem'd 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 large tusks, and gaping wide,
As if he already had me for his prey;
Till brandishing my well-poisid jav’lin high,
With this bold executing arm, I struck
The ugly, brindled monster to the heart.
Cast. The actions of your life were always wond'rous.
Acast. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't live

It is a little sneaking art, which knaves
Use to cajole, and sotten fools withal.
If thou hast flattery in thy nature, out with it,
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 ;

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“ The supercilious statesman has his sneer, “ To sooth a poor man off with, that can't bribe him; “ The grave dull fellow of small business sooths “ The humourist, and will needs admire his wit. “Who, without spleen, could see a hot-brain'd atheist, “ Thanking a surly doctor for his sermon; . “ Or a grave counsellor meet a smooth young lord, “ Squeeze him by the hand, and praise his good com

“ plexion? “ Pol. Courts are the places where best manners

" Aourish; " Where the deserving ought to rise, and fools “ Make shew. Why should I vexand chafe my spleen, “ To see a gaudy coxcomb shine, when I “ Have seen enough to sooth him in his follies, “And ride him to advantage as I please?

"dcast. Who merit, ought indeed to risei'th' world; “ But no wise man that's honest shou'd expect it. " What man of sense would rack his generous mind, “ To practise all the base formalities

41 “ And forms of business ? force a grave starch'd 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 fellow's 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's fair,

Were she a common mistress, kind to all,
Her worth wou'd cease, and half the world grow idle.
Acast. Go to, y'are fools, and know me not; I've

learn’d
Long since, to bear, revenge, or scorn my wrongs,
According to the value of the doer.
You both wou'd fain be great, and to that end
Desire to do things worthy your ambition.
Go to the camp, preferment's noblest mart,
Where honour ought to have the fairest play, you'll

find Corruption, envy, discontent, and faction, Almost in ev'ry band. How many men Have spent their blood in their dear country's service, Yet now pine under want, whilst selfish slaves, That e'en wou'd cut their throats whom now they

fawn on, Like deadly locusts, eat the honey up, Which those industrious bees so hardly toild 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 merit, though in rags,
And scorn a proud ill-manner'd knave in office.

Enter SerinA.
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 wish'd for, Is just arriv'd, and entering.

Acast. By my soul,
And all my honours, he's most dearly welcome ;
Let me receive him like his father's friend.

Enter CHAMONT.. Welcome thou relict of the best lov'd man. Welcome from all the turmoils and the hazards Of certain danger and uncertain fortune ; Welcome as happy tidings after fears. Cha. Words wou'd but wrong the gratitude I owe

you : Shou'd I begin to speak, my soul's so full, That I should talk of nothing else all day.

Enter MONIMIA. Mon. My brother!

Cha. 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 satisfy'd my soul With fancy'd joys, 'till morning cares awak'd 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, 100 And tells me she has claim and interest there.

Acast. Young soldier, you've not only study'd war,
Courtship, I see, has been your practice too,
And may not prove unwelcome to my daughter.

Cha. Is she your 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 pow'r,
The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities?
Let there be joy through all the house this day!
In ev'ry room let plenty flow at large,
It is the birth-day of my royal master.
You have not visited the court, Chamont,
Since your return.

Cha. I have no business there;
I have not slavish temperance enough
T'attend a fav’rite's heels, and watch his smiles,
Bear an ill office done me to my face,
And thank the lord that wrong'd me for his favour.
Acast. This you could do.

[To his Sons.
Cast. I'd serve my prince.
Acast. Who'd serve him?
Cast. I would, my Lord.

Pol. And I ; both would.
- Acast. Away!
He needs not any servants such as you.

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