I'll kneel to thee, and weep a flood before thee.
Yet pr'ythee, tyrant, break not quite my heart,
But when my task of penitence is done,

Heal it again, and comfort me with love.

Mon. If I am dumb, Castalio, and want words
To
pay thee back this mighty tenderness,

It is because I look on thee with horror,
And cannot see the man I have so wrong'd,
Cast. Thou hast not wrong'd me.

Mon. Ah! alas, thou talk'st

Just as thy poor heart thinks; have not I wrong'd thee?

Cast. No.

Mon. Still thou wander'st in the dark, Castalio, But wilt, ere long, stumble on horrid danger.

Cast. My better angel, then do thou inform me What danger threatens me, and where it lies; Why did'st thou, (pr'ythee smile, and tell me why) When I stood waiting underneath the window, The dropping dews fell cold upon my head,

Darkness inclos'd, and the winds whistled round me ; With which my mournful sighs made such sad music,

As might have mov'd the hardest heart; why wert

thou

Deaf to my cries, and senseless of my pains?

Mon. Did I not beg thee to forbear inquiry? Read'st thou not something in my face, that speaks Wonderful change, and horror from within me?

Cast. Then there is something yet, which I've not known.

What dost thou mean by horror and forbearance
Of more inquiry? Tell me, I beg thee, tell me;
And don't betray me to a second madness.

Mon. Must I?

Cast. If, lab'ring in the pangs of death, Thou would'st do any thing to give me ease,

Unfold this riddle, ere my thoughts grow wild,
And let in fears of ugly form upon me.

Mon. My heart won't let me speak it; but remember?

Monimia, poor Monimia, tells you this,

We ne'er must meet again—

Cast. Ne'er meet again!
Mon. No, never.

Cast. Where's the

power

On earth, that dares not look like thee, and say so? Thou art my heart's inheritance; I serv'd

A long and faithful slavery for thee:

And who shall rob me of the dear bought blessing? Mon. Time will clear all; but now let this content

you;

Heaven has decreed, and therefore I've resolv'd, (With torment I must tell it thee, Castalio) Ever to be a stranger to thy love,

In some far distant country waste my life,

And from this day to see thy face no more.

Cast. Where am I? Sure I wander 'midst enchant

ment,

And never more shall find the way to rest;

Why turn'st thou from me; I'm alone already.
Methinks I stand upon a naked beach,

Sighing to winds, and to the seas complaining,
Whilst afar off the vessel sails away,

Where all the treasure of my soul's embark'd;
Wilt thou not turn?-Oh! could those eyes
speak,

I should know all, for love is pregnant in 'em ;
They swell, they press their beams upon me still:
Wilt thou not speak? If we must part for ever,
Give me but one kind word to think upon,

but

And please myself withal, whilst my heart's break

ing.

Mon. Ah!

poor Castalio!

[Exit MONIMIA.

Cast. What means all this? Why all this stir to

plague

A single wretch? If but your word can shake
This world to atoms, why so much ado

With me? think me but dead, and lay me so.

Enter POLYDOre.

Pol. To live, and live a torment to myself, What dog would bear't, that knew but his condi

tion?

We've little knowledge, and that makes us cowards, Because it cannot tell us what's to come.

Cast. Who's there?

Pol. Why, what art thou?
Cast. My brother Polydore ?
Pol. My name is Polydore.
Cast. Canst thou inform me-
Pol. Of what?

Cast. Of my Monimia ?
Pol. No. Good day!
Cast. In haste !

Methinks my Polydore appears in sadness.
Pol. Indeed! and so to me does my Castalio.
Cast. Do I?

Pol. Thou dost.

Cast. Alas, I've wondrous reason;

I'm strangely alter'd, brother, since I saw thee.
Pol. Why?

Cast. Oh! to tell thee would but put thy heart
To pain! Let me embrace thee but a little,
And weep upon thy neck; I would repose
Within thy friendly bosom all my follies;
For thou wilt pardon 'em, because they're mine.
Pol. Be not too credulous; consider first,

Friends may be false. Is there no friendship false ?
Cast. Why dost thou ask me that? Does this ap

pear

Like a false friendship, when, with open arms
And streaming eyes, I run upon thy breast;
Oh ! 'tis in thee alone I must have comfort!
Pol. I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.
Cast. Dost thou not love me, then?

Pol. Oh, more than life:

I never had a thought of my Castalio,

Might wrong the friendship, we had vow'd together: Hast thou dealt so by me?

Cast. I hope I have.

Pol. Then tell me why this mourning, this disorder?

Cast. O Polydore, I know not how to tell thee; Shame rises in my face, and interrupts

The story of my tongue.

Pol. I grieve, my friend

Knows any thing which he's asham'd to tell me; Or did'st thou e'er conceal thy thoughts from Polydore?

Cast. Oh, much too oft;

But let me here conjure thee,

By all the kind affection of a brother,

(For I'm asham'd to call myself thy friend) Forgive me.

Pol. Well, go on.

Cast. Our destiny contriv'd

To plague us both with one unhappy love!
Thou, like a friend, a constant, gen'rous friend,

In its first pangs didst trust me with thy passion,
Whilst I still smooth'd my pain with smiles before

thee,

And made a contract I ne'er meant to keep.
Pol. How!

Cast. Still new ways I studied to abuse thee,
And kept thee as a stranger to my passion,
Till yesterday I wedded with Monimia.
Pol. Ah, Castalio, was that well done?

Cast. No; to conceal't from thee, was much a fault.

Pol. A fault! when thou hast heard

The tale I'll tell, what wilt thou call it then!
Cast. How my heart throbs !

Pol. First, for thy friendship, traitor,
I cancel't thus; after this day I'll ne'er
Hold trust or converse with the false Castalio!
This, witness Heaven!

Cast. What will my fate do with me?

I've lost all happiness, and know not why!
What means this, brother?

Pol. Perjur'd, treach'rous wretch !

Farewell!

Cast. I'll be thy slave, and thou shalt use me Just as thou wilt, do but forgive me.

Pol. Never,

Cast. Oh! think a little what thy heart is doing :
How, from our infancy, we hand in hand
Have trod the path of life in love together.
One bed has held us, and the same desires,
The same aversions, still employ'd our thoughts,
Whene'er had I a friend, that was not Polydore's,
Or Polydore a foe, that was not mine?

E'en in the womb w'embrac'd, and wilt thou now,
For the first fault, abandon and forsake me ?
Leave me, amidst afflictions, to myself,

Plung'd in the gulf of grief, and none to help me?
Pol. Go to Monimia; in her arms thoul't find
Repose; she has the art of healing sorrows.

Cast. What arts?

Pol. Blind wretch! thou husband! there's a question!

Is she not a

Cast. What!

Pol. Whore? I think that word needs no explain. ing.

Cast. Alas! I can forgive e'en this to thee: But, let me tell thee, Polydore, I'm griev'd