Didst thou not promise me thou wouldst be calm ? Keep my disgrace conceal'd? Why shouldst thou kill him? By all my love, this arm should do him vengeance. Yet bless him, bless him, gods! where'er he goes. Enter ACASTO. Acast. Sure some ill fate is tow'rds me; in my house I only meet with oddness and disorder; "Each vassal has a wild distracted face, "And looks as full of business as a blockhead "In times of danger." Just this very moment 300 I met Castalio Cha. Then you met a villain. Acast. Hah! Cha. Yes, a villain. Acast. Have a care, young soldier, How thou'rt too busy with Acasto's fame. I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance, Cha. Curse on thy scandalous age, Which hinders me to rush upon thy throat, To be thus us'd? I scorn t'upbraid thee, boy. But I could put thee in remembrance Cha. Do. Acast. I scorn it Cha. No, I'll calmly hear the story, 320 For I would fain know all, to see which scale Acast. Why dost thou ask it? Cha. 'Twas the rude overflowing Of too much passion. Pray, my lord, forgive me. [Kneels. Acast. Mock me not, youth, I can revenge a wrong. Cha. I know it well; but for this thought of mine Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it. Acast. I will; but henceforth pr'ythee be more kind. Whence came the cause? [Raises him. Cha. Indeed I've been to blame; "But I'll learn better;" for you've been my father. You've been her father too- [Takes Mon. by the hand. Acast. Forbear the prologue And let me know the substance of thy tale. Cha. You took her up, a little tender flower, Just sprouted on a bank, which the next frost Had nipp'd; and with a careful loving hand, Transplanted her into your own fair garden, Where the sun always shines. There long she flourish'd, Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye, 'Till at the last a cruel spoiler came, 340 Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness, Acast. You talk to me in parables, Chamont, of fools, that use 'em when they want good sense; ut honesty eeds no disguise nor ornament. Cha. Your son Be plain. Acast. I've two; and both, I hope, have honour. -but Cha. I hope so too—~— Acast. Speak. Cha. I must inform you, Once more, Castalio! Acast. Still Castalio! Cha. Yes. Your son Castalio has wrong'd Monimia. Acast. Hah! wrong'd her? Cha. Marry'd her. Acast. I'm sorry for't. Cha. Why sorry? 'y yon blest heav'n, there's not a lord ut might be proud to take her to his heart. Acast. I'll not deny't. Cha. You dare not, by the gods ou dare not; all your family combin'd one damn'd falsehood to outdo Castalio, are not deny't. Acast. How has Castalio wrong'd her? 360 Cha. Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wrong'd: Monimia, my sister, born as high And noble as Castalio-Do her justice, Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature. Take him to your closet, and there teach him manners. Acast. You shall have justice. Cha. Nay, I will have justice. Who'll sleep in safety that has done me wrong? The cause of this; I beg you (to preserve Acast. I will. Cha. 'Till then, farewel Acast. Farewel, proud boy. Monimia ! Mon. My lord. Acast. You are my daughter. 308 [Exit. Mon. I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me. Acast. When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a fa ther. [Exit. Mon. Now I'm undone for ever. Who on earth Is there so wretched as Monimia? First by Castalio cruelly forsaken; I've lost Acasto now: his parting frowns Is framing mischiefs too, for ought I know, I would not be the cause of one man's death My dear unkind Castalio! Enter POLYDORE. Pol. Monimia weeping! "So morning dews on new-blown roses lodge, "By the sun's am'rous heat to be exhal'd." I come, my love, to kiss all sorrow from thee, What mean these sighs? And why thus beats thy heart? Mon. Let me alone to sorrow. 'Tis a cause None e'er shall know: but it shall with me die. Pol. Happy, Monimia, he to whom these sighs, I know your heart was never meant for me, 420 Pol. Nay, wonder not; last night I heard His oaths, your vows, and to my torment saw Your wild embraces; heard the appointment made, I did, Monimia, and I curs'd the sound. Wilt thou be sworn, my love? wilt thou be ne'er Mon. Banish such fruitless hopes! H |