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74

Mon. Why do you then call this unfaithful dealing! I ne'er conceal'd my soul from you before:

Bear with me now, and search my wounds no farther; For every probing pains me to the heart.

Cha. 'Tis sign there's danger in't, and must be probed.

Where's your new husband? Still that thought disturbs you?

What! only answer me with tears? Castalio!

Nay, now they stream;

Cruel, unkind Castalio! Is't not so?

Mon. I cannot speak? "grief flows so fast upon me, "It choaks, and will not let me tell the cause." Oh!

Cha. My Monimia, to my soul thou'rt dear As honour to my name. Dear as the light

"To eyes but just restor'd, and heal'd of blindness." Why wilt thou not repose within my breast

The anguish that torments thee?

Mon. Oh! I dare not.

220

Cha. I have no friend but thee. We must confide

In one another. Two unhappy orphans,

Alas, we are, and when I see thee grieve,

Methinks, it is a part of me that suffers.

"Mon. Oh, shouldst thou know the cause of my lamenting,

"Thou wouldst despise the abject, lost Monimia, "I am satisfy'd, Chamont, that thou wouldst scorn

me;

"No more would praise this hated beauty: but

"When in some cell distracted, as I shall be, "Thou seest me lie; these unregarded locks "Matted like furies tresses; my poor limbs “Chain'd to the ground, and, 'stead of the delights "Which happy lovers taste, my keeper's stripes, "A bed of straw, and a coarse wooden dish "Of wretched sustenance; when thus thou seest me, "Pr'ythee have charity and pity for me:

"Let me enjoy this thought.

"Cha. Why wilt thou rack

"My soul so long, Monimia? Ease me quickly;

"Or thou wilt run me into madness first."

Mon. Could you be secret?

Cha. Secret as the grave.

240

Mon. But when I've told you, will you keep your fury

Within its bonds? Will you not do some rash
And horrid mischief? For indeed, Chamont,
You would not think how hardly I've been us'd
From a near friend, from one that has my soul
A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.

Cha. I will be calm, but has Castalio wrong'd thee? Has he already wasted all his love?

What has he done? Quickly, for I'm all trembling With expectation of a horrid tale.

Mon. Oh! could you think it!

Cha. What?

Mon. I fear he'll kill me.

Cha. Hah!

Mon. Indeed I do; he's strangely cruel to me;

Which if it last, I'm sure must break my heart. 260

Cha. What has he done?

Mon. Most barbarously us'd me.

Nothing so kind as he when in my arms!

"In thousand kisses, tender sighs and joys,

"Not to be thought again, the night was wasted;"

At dawn of day he rose, and left his conquest.
But when we met, and I with open arms,

Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes,
Oh, then!

Cha. Go on!

Mon. He threw me from his breast, Like a detested sin.

Cha. How!

Mon. As I hung too

Upon his knees, and begg'd to know the cause,
He dragg'd me like a slave upon the earth,
And had no pity on my cries.

Cha. How did he

Dash thee disdainfully away; with scorn?

Mon. He did! and more, I fear, will ne'er be friends,

Though I still love him with unabated passion.
Cha. What, throw thee from him!

Mon. Yes, indeed he did.

Cha. So may this arm

Throw him to th'earth, like a dead dog despis'd.

Lameness and leprosy, blindness and lunacy,

Poverty, shame, pride, and the name of villain,
Light on me, if, Castalio, I forgive thee.

280

Mon. Nay, now, Chamont, art thou unkind as he is!

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London Printed for J.Bell. British Library Strand. June 23.1791.

MHOLMAN as CHAMONT,
curse on thy scandalous

that cursed bramble.

The rrihn aile f

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