No More Learning

She wonders much at your unkind delay;
You've staid so long, that at each little noise
The wind but makes, she asks if you are coming.

_Pol. _ Tell her I'm here, and let the door be open'd.
[_Florella withdraws. _

Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell
Thyself strange stories of a promis'd bliss! [_exit. _

_Re-enter Castalio and Page. _

_Page. _ Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely morning:
Pray, let us hunt.

_Cas. _ Go, you're an idle prattler:
I'll stay at home to-morrow; if your lord
Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go, leave me:
I must to bed.

_Page. _ I'll wait upon your lordship,
If you think fit, and sing you to repose.

_Cas. _ No, my kind boy.
Good night: commend me to my brother.

_Page. _ Oh!
You never heard the last new song I learn'd;
It is the finest, prettiest, song indeed,
Of my lord and my lady, you know who, that were caught
Together, you know where. My lord, indeed it is.

_Cas. _ You must be whipp'd, youngster, if you get such songs as those are.
What means this boy's impertinence to-night? [_aside. _

_Page. _ Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear lord?

_Cas. _ Psalms, child, psalms.

_Page. _ O dear me! boys that go to school learn psalms;
But pages, that are better bred, sing lampoons.

_Cas. _ Well, leave me; I'm weary.

_Page. _ Indeed, my lord, I can't abide to leave you.

_Cas. _ Why, wert thou instructed to attend me?

_Page. _ No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not.
But I know what I know.

_Cas. _ What dost thou know? ----'Sdeath! what can all this mean? [_aside. _

_Page. _ Oh! I know who loves somebody.

_Cas. _ What's that to me, boy?

_Page. _ Nay, I know who loves you too.

_Cas. _ That's a wonder! pr'ythee, tell it me.

_Page. _ 'Tis--'tis--I know who--but will
You give me the horse, then?

_Cas. _ I will, my child.

_Page. _ It is my lady Monimia, look you; but don't you tell her I told
you: she'll give me no more playthings then. I heard her say so, as she
lay abed, man.

_Cas. _ Talk'd she of me when in her bed, Cordelio?

_Page. _ Yes; and I sung her the song you made too; and she did so sigh,
and look with her eyes!

_Cas. _ Hark! what's that noise?
Take this; be gone, and leave me.
You knave, you little flatterer, get you gone. [_ex. Page. _
Surely it was a noise, hist! ----only fancy;
For all is hush'd, as nature were retir'd.
'Tis now, that, guided by my love, I go
To take possession of Monimia's arms.
Sure Polydore's by this time gone to bed. [_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. [_knocks. _
Once more----

_Flo. _ [_at the window_] Who's there,
That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest?

_Cas. _ 'Tis I.

_Flo. _ Who are you? what's your name?

_Cas. _ Suppose the lord Castalio.

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

_Cas. _ 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.

_Flo. _ Whoe'er you are, you may repent this outrage:
My lady must not be disturb'd. Good night!

_Cas. _ She must! tell her, she shall; go, I'm in haste,
And bring her tidings from the state of love.

_Flo. _ Sure the man's mad!

_Cas. _ 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!

_Flo. _ 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.

_Cas. _ I'll not believe't.

_Flo. _ You may, sir.

_Cas. _ Curses blast thee!

_Flo. _ Well, 'tis a fine cool ev'ning! and I hope
May cure the raging fever in your blood!
Good night.

_Cas. _ And farewell all that's just in woman!
This is contriv'd, a study'd trick, to abuse
My easy nature, and torment my mind!
'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it!
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! O 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.

_Cas. _ Who's there?

_Ern. _ Castalio! --My lord, why in this posture,
Stretch'd on the ground? your honest, true, old servant,
Your poor Ernesto, cannot see you thus.
Rise, I beseech you.

_Cas. _ Oh, 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.

_Cas. _ Thou canst not serve me.

_Ern. _ Why?

_Cas. _ Because my thoughts
Are full of woman; thou, poor wretch, art past them.

_Ern. _ I hate the sex.

_Cas. _ Then I'm thy friend, Ernesto! [_rises. _
I'd leave the world for him that hates a woman!
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 Antony 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 given;
When innocence and love were in their prime.
Happy awhile 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 THE FOURTH.


SCENE I. A CHAMBER.

_Enter Castalio. _

_Cas. _ Wish'd morning's come! And now upon the plains,
And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks,
The happy shepherds leave their homely huts,
And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day.
There's no condition sure so curs'd as mine----
Monimia! O Monimia!

_Enter Monimia and Florella. _

_Mon. _ I come!
I fly to my ador'd Castalio's arms,
My wishes' lord. May every morn begin
Like this; and, with our days, our loves renew!

_Cas. _ Oh----

_Mon. _ Art thou not well, Castalio? Come, lean
Upon my breast, and tell me where's thy pain.

_Cas. _ 'Tis here--'tis in my head--'tis in my heart--
'Tis every where: it rages like a madness,
And I most wonder how my reason holds.
No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts:
They're useless all--I'm not that pliant tool;
I know my charter better----I am man,
Obstinate man, and will not be enslav'd!

_Mon. _ You shall not fear't; indeed, my nature's easy:
I'll ever live your most obedient wife!
Nor ever any privilege pretend
Beyond your will; for that shall be my law;--
Indeed, I will not.

_Cas. _ Nay, you shall not, madam;
By yon bright heaven, you shall not: all the day
I'll play the tyrant, and at night forsake thee;
Nay, if I've any too, thou shalt be made
Subservient to my looser pleasures;
For thou hast wrong'd Castalio.

_Mon.
_ Oh, kill me here, or tell me my offence!
I'll never quit you else; but, on these knees,
Thus follow you all day, till they're worn bare,
And hang upon you like a drowning creature.
Castalio! ----

_Cas. _ Away! ----Last night! last night! ----

_Mon. _ It was our wedding night.

_Cas. _ No more! --Forget it!

_Mon. _ Why! do you then repent?

_Cas. _ I do.

_Mon. _ O heaven!
And will you leave me thus? --Help! help! Florella!

[_Castalio drags her to the door, breaks from her, and exit. _

Help me to hold this yet lov'd, cruel man!
Castalio! --Oh! how often has he sworn,
Nature should change--the sun and stars grow dark,
Ere he would falsify his vows to me!
Make haste, confusion, then! Sun, lose thy light!
And, stars, drop dead with sorrow to the earth,
For my Castalio's false!
False as the wind, the waters, or the weather!
Cruel as tigers o'er their trembling prey!
I feel him in my breast; he tears my heart,
And at each sigh he drinks the gushing blood!
Must I be long in pain?

_Enter Chamont. _

_Cham. _ In tears, Monimia!

_Mon. _ Whoe'er thou art,
Leave me alone to my belov'd despair!

_Cham. _ Lift up thy eyes, and see who comes to cheer thee!
Tell me the story of thy wrongs, and then
See if my soul has rest, till thou hast justice.

_Mon. _ My brother!

_Cham. _ Yes, Monimia, if thou think'st
That I deserve the name, I am thy brother.

_Mon. _ O Castalio!

_Cham. _ Ha!
Name me that name again! my soul's on fire
Till I know all! --There's meaning in that name:--
I know he is thy husband; therefore, trust me
With the following truth.

_Mon. _ Indeed, Chamont,
There's nothing in it but the fault of nature:
I'm often thus seiz'd suddenly with grief,
I know not why.

_Cham. _ You use me ill, Monimia;
And I might think, with justice, most severely
Of this unfaithful dealing with your brother.

_Mon. _ Truly I'm not to blame. Suppose I'm fond,
And grieve for what as much may please another?
Should I upbraid the dearest friend on earth
For the first fault? You would not do so, would you?

_Cham. _ Not if I'd cause to think it was a friend.

_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 further;
For every probing pains me to the heart.

_Cham. _ 'Tis sign there's danger in't, and must be prob'd.
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 chokes, and will not let me tell the cause.
Oh! ----

_Cham. _ My Monimia! to my soul thou'rt dear
As honour to my name!
Why wilt thou not repose within my breast
The anguish that torments thee?

_Mon. _ Oh! I dare not.

_Cham. _ 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. _ Could you be secret?

_Cham. _ Secret as the grave.

_Mon. _ But when I've told you, will you keep your fury
Within its bounds? 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 dear friend--from one that has my soul
A slave, and therefore treats it like a tyrant.

_Cham. _ 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?

_Cham. _ What?

_Mon. _ I fear, he'll kill me!

_Cham. _ Ha!

_Mon. _ Indeed, I do: he's strangely cruel to me;
Which, if it last, I'm sure must break my heart.

_Cham. _ What has he done?

_Mon. _ Most barbarously us'd me.
Just as we met, and I, with open arms,
Ran to embrace the lord of all my wishes,
Oh then----

_Cham. _ Go on!

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

_Cham. _ 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.

_Cham. _ How! did he
Dash thee disdainfully away, with scorn?

_Mon. _ He did.

_Cham. _ What! throw thee from him?

_Mon. _ Yes, indeed, he did!

_Cham. _ 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!

_Mon. _ Nay, now, Chamont, art thou unkind as he is!
Didst thou not promise me thou wouldst be calm?
Keep my disgrace conceal'd?
Alas, I love him still; and though I ne'er
Clasp him again within these longing arms,
Yet bless him, bless him, gods, where'er he goes!

_Enter Acasto. _

_Acas. _ Sure some ill fate is tow'rds me; in my house
I only meet with oddness and disorder.
Just this very moment
I met Castalio too----

_Cham. _ Then you met a villain.

_Acas. _ Ha!

_Cham. _ Yes, a villain!

_Acas. _ Have a care, young soldier,
How thou'rt too busy with Acasto's fame.
I have a sword, my arm's good old acquaintance:--
Villain, to thee.

_Cham. _ Curse on thy scandalous age,
Which hinders me to rush upon thy throat,
And tear the root up of that cursed bramble!

_Acas. _ Ungrateful ruffian! sure my good old friend
Was ne'er thy father! Nothing of him's in thee!
What have I done, in my unhappy age,
To be thus us'd? I scorn to upbraid thee, boy!
But I could put thee in remembrance----

_Cham. _ Do.

_Acas. _ I scorn it.

_Cham. _ No, I'll calmly hear the story;
For I would fain know all, to see which scale
Weighs most. ----Ha! is not that good old Acasto?
What have I done? --Can you forgive this folly?

_Acas. _ Why dost thou ask it?

_Cham. _ 'Twas the rude o'erflowing
Of too much passion--Pray, my lord, forgive me. [_kneels. _

_Acas. _ Mock me not, youth! I can revenge a wrong.

_Cham. _ I know it well--but for this thought of mine,
Pity a madman's frenzy, and forget it.

_Acas. _ I will; but henceforth pr'ythee be more kind.
Whence came the cause? [_raises him. _

_Cham. _ Indeed, I've been to blame;
For you've been my father--
You've been her father too. [_takes Monimia's hand. _

_Acas. _ Forbear the prologue,
And let me know the substance of thy tale.

_Cham. _ 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,
Cropp'd this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then cast it like a loathsome weed away.

_Acas. _ You talk to me in parables, Chamont:
You may have known that I'm no wordy man.