arms.

Surely it was a noise! hist-only fancy;
For all is hush'd, as nature were retir'd,
“ And the perpetual motion standing still,”
So much she from her work appears to cease;
And ev'ry warring element's at peace:
All the wild herds are in the coverts couch'd ;
The fishes to their banks or ouze repair'd,
And to the murmurs of the waters sleep;
The feeling air's at rest, and feels no noise,
Except of some soft breeze among the trees,
Rocking the harmless birds that rest upon 'em.
'Tis now, that, guided by my love, I go
To take possession of my Monimia's
Sure Polydore's by this time gone to bed.
At midnight thus the us’rer steals untrack'd,
To make a visit to his hoarded gold,
And feasts his eyes upon the shining mammon. [Knocks.
She hears me not; sure she already sleeps,
Her wishes could not brook so long delay,
And her poor heart has beat itself to rest.

560

[Knocks again. 66 Monimia! my angel-hah-not yet“ How long's the shortest moment of delay, • To a heart impatient of its pangs like mine, 6. In sight of ease, and panting to the goal.”

[Knocks again. Once more

Maid. [At the window.] Who's there? That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest?

Cast. 'Tis I.

580

Maid. Who are you? What's your name?
Cast. Suppose the lord Castalio.

Maid. I know you not.
The lord Castalio has no business here.

Cast. Ha! have a care; what can this mean?
Whoe'er thou art, I charge thee to Monimia fly;
Tell her I'm here, and wait upon my

doom. Maid. Whoe'er you are, ye may repent this outrage. My lady must not be disturbed. Good night.

Cast. She must; tell her she shall. Go, I'm in haste, And bring her tidings from the state of love; They're all in consultation met together, How to reward my truth, and crown her vows.

Maid. Sure the man's mad!

Cast. Or this will make me so.
Obey me, or by all the wrongs I suffer,
I'll scale the window, and come in by force,
Let the sad consequence be what it will !
This creature's trifling folly makes me mad!

Maid. My lady's answer is, you may depart.
She says she knows you; you are Polydore,
Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day,
T'affront and do her violence again.

Cast. I'll not believe't.
Maid. You may, sir.
Cast. Curses blast thee!

Maid. Well, 'tis a fine cool ev'ning; and, I hope
May cure the raging fever in your blood.
Good-night.

Cast. And farewel all that's just in women!

This is contriv'd; a studied trick, to abuse
My easy nature, and torment my mind.

600 « Sure now she's bound me fast, and means to lord it, " To rein me hard, and ride me at her will, “ 'Till by degrees she shape me into fool, « For a!l her future uses. Death and torment!" 'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it. “ Oh, I could grow ev'n wild, and tear my hair !" 'Tis well, Monimia, that thy empire's short; Let but to-morrow, but to-morrow come, And try if all thy arts appease my wrong ; 'Till when, be this detested place my bed. [Lies down. Where I will ruminate on woman's ills; Laugh at myself, and curse th' inconstant sex : Faithless Monimia! Oh, Monimia!

Enter ERNESTO.
Ern. Either
My sense has been deluded, or this way,
I heard the sound of sorrow ; 'tis late night,
And none, whose mind's at peace, would wander now.

Cast. Who's there?
" Ern. A friend.
< Cast. If thou’rt so, retire,

620 “ And leave this place; for I would be alone."

Ern. Castalio! my lord, why in this posture, Stretch'don the ground: Your honest, true old servant, Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus. Rise, I beseech you.

Cast. If thou art Ernesto,

As by thy honesty thou seem'st to be,
Once leave me to my folly.

Ern. I can't leave you,
And not the reason know of your disorders.
Remember how, when young, I in my arms
Have often borne you, pleas'd you in your pleasures,
And sought an early share in your affection :
Do not discard me now, but let me serve you.

Cast. Thou canst not serve me.
Ern. Why?

Cast. Because my thoughts
Are full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past 'em.

Ern. I hate the sex.

Cast. Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto. [Rises. I'd leave the world for him that hates a woman. 641 Woman, the fountain of all human frailty ! What mighty ills have not been done by woman? Who was't betray'd the capitol ? A woman. Who lost Mark Anthony the world? A woman. Who was the cause of a long ten years war, And laid at last old Troy in ashes? Woman! Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman! Woman, to man first as a blessing giv'n; When innocence and love were in their prime, Happy a while in Paradise they lay, But quickly woman long'd to go astray ; Some foolish, new adventure needs must prove, And the first devil she saw, she chang'd her love; To his temptations lewdly she inclin'd Her soul, and for an apple damn'd mankind. [Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Saloon,

Acasto. Blest be the morning that has brought me health; A happy rest has soften’d pain away, And I'll forget it, though my mind's not well; A heavy melancholy clogs my heart; I droop and sigh, I know not why. Dark dreams, Sick fancy's children, have been over-busy, And all the night play'd farces in my brain. Méthought I heard the midnight raven cry; Wak'd with th' imagin'd noise, my curtain seem'd To start, and at my feet my sons appear'd, Like ghosts, all pale and stiff; I strove to speak, But could not: suddenly the forms were lost, And seem'd to vanish in a bloody cloud. 'Twas odd, and for the present, shook my thoughts; But 'twas th’ effect of my distemper'd blood; And when the health's disturb'd, the mind's unruly.

Enter POLYDORE.
Good-morning, Polydore.

Pol. Heav'n keep your Lordship.
Acast. Have you yet seen Castalio to-day?
Pol. My Lord, 'tis early day; he's hardly risen. 20
Acast. Go, call him up, and meet me in the chapel.

[Exit Polydore.