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.
Why then, thus kind to me?

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. How my head swims! 'tis very dark. Good night.

[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;
But hear me, Heav'n!-Ah, here's a scene of death!
My sister, my Monimia breathless!—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.
Acast. What means Castalio? Sure thou wilt not pull
More sorrows on thy aged father's head.

Tell me, I beg you, tell me the sad cause
Of all this ruin.

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:
Now, if thou wilt embrace a noble vengeance,
Come, join with me, and curse-

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
That teach it, laugh at ye when ye believe 'em,
Strip me of all the common needs of life,
Scald me with leprosy, let friends forsake me,
I'll bear it all; but curs'd to the degree
That I am now, 'tis this must give me patience :
Thus I find rest, and shall complain no more.

6co

[Stabs himself.

"Pol. Castalio! oh!

Cast. "I come."

Chamont, to thee my birth-right I bequeath;
Comfort my mourning father, heal his griefs,

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, rick 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.