No More Learning

What have I done? --can you forgive this folly?

_Acast. _ Why dost thou ask it?

_Cham. _ 'Twas the rude o'erflowing
Of too much passion; pray, my lord, forgive me. [_Kneels. _

_Acast. _ 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.

_Acast. _ I will; but henceforth, pr'ythee, be more kind.

[_Raises him. _

Whence came the cause?

_Cham. _ Indeed I've been to blame:
But I'll learn better; for you've been my father:
You've been her father too-- [_Takes_ MONIMIA _by the hand_.

_Acast. _ 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 nipped; and, with a careful loving hand,
Transplanted her into your own fair garden,
Where the sun always shines; there long she flourished,
Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye;
Till, at the last, a cruel spoiler came,
Cropped this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then cast it, like a loathsome weed, away.

_Acast. _ You talk to me in parables, Chamont.
You may have known that I'm no wordy man:
Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves,
Or fools, that use them when they want good sense;
But honesty
Needs no disguise nor ornament. Be plain.

_Cham. _ Your son--

_Acast. _ I've two; and both, I hope, have honour.

_Cham. _ I hope so too--but--

_Acast. _ Speak.

_Cham. _ I must inform you,
Once more, Castalio--

_Acast. _ Still Castalio!

_Cham. _ Yes.
Your son Castalio has wronged Monimia.

_Acast. _ Ha! wronged her?

_Cham. _ Married her.

_Acast. _ I'm sorry for't.

_Cham. _ Why sorry? By yon blest Heaven! there's not a lord
But might be proud to take her to his heart.

_Acast. _ I'll not deny't.

_Cham. _ You dare not; by the gods!
You dare not; all your family, combined
In one damned falsehood to out-do Castalio,
Dare not deny't.

_Acast. _ How has Castalio wronged her?

_Cham. _ Ask that of him: I say, my sister's wronged;
Monimia, my sister, born as high
And noble as Castalio. Do her justice,
Or, by the gods! I'll lay a scene of blood
Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature.
I'll do't. Hark you, my lord; your son Castalio,
Take him to your closet, and there teach him manners.

_Acast. _ You shall have justice.

_Cham. _ Nay, I will have justice.
Who'll sleep in safety that has done me wrong?
My lord, I'll not disturb you to repeat
The cause of this: I beg you (to preserve
Your house's honour) ask it of Castalio.

_Acast. _ I will.

_Cham. _ Till then, farewell! [_Exit. _

_Acast. _ Farewell, proud boy!
Monimia!

_Mon. _ My lord.

_Acast. _ You are my daughter.

_Mon. _ I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me.

_Acast. _ When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father. [_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
May well instruct me rage is in his heart:
I shall be next abandoned to my fortune,
Thrust out a naked wanderer to the world,
And branded for the mischievous Monimia!
What will become of me? My cruel brother
Is framing mischiefs too, for aught I know,
That may produce bloodshed, and horrid murder;
I would not be the cause of one man's death,
To reign the empress of the earth; nay, more,
I'd rather lose for ever my Castalio,
My dear unkind Castalio!

_Enter_ POLYDORE.

_Pol. _ Monimia weeping!
So morning dews on new-blown roses lodge,
By the sun's amorous heat to be exhaled.
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,
These tears, and all these languishings are paid!
I am no stranger to your dearest secret;
I know your heart was never meant for me:
That jewel's for an elder brother's price.

_Mon. _ My lord!

_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 cursed the sound.
Wilt thou be sworn my love? wilt thou be ne'er
Unkind again?

_Mon. _ Banish such fruitless hopes:
Have you sworn constancy to my undoing?
Will you be ne'er my friend again?

_Pol. _ What means
My love?

_Mon. _ Away! What meant my lord, last night?

_Pol. _ Is that a question now to be demanded?
I hope Monimia was not much displeased.

_Mon. _ Was it well done to treat me like a prostitute?
To assault my lodging at the dead of night,
And threaten me if I denied admittance? --
You said you were Castalio--

_Pol. _ By those eyes!
It was the same; I spent my time much better;
I tell thee, ill-natured fair one, I was posted
To more advantage,--on a pleasant hill
Of springing joy, and everlasting sweetness.

_Mon. _ Ha! --have a care--

_Pol. _ Where is the danger near me?

_Mon. _ I fear you're on a rock will wreck your quiet,
And drown your soul in wretchedness for ever;
A thousand horrid thoughts crowd on my memory.
Will you be kind, and answer me one question?

_Pol. _ I'd trust thee with my life; on those soft breasts
Breathe out the choicest secrets of my heart,
Till I had nothing in it left but love.

_Mon. _ Nay, I'll conjure you, by the gods, and angels,
By the honour of your name, that's most concerned,
To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly,
Where did you rest last night?

_Pol. _ Within thy arms
I triumphed: rest had been my foe.

_Mon. _ 'Tis done. [_She faints. _

_Pol. _ She faints! No help! Who waits? A curse
Upon my vanity, that could not keep
The secret of my happiness in silence.
Confusion! we shall be surprised anon;
And consequently all must be betrayed.
Monimia! --she breathes. --Monimia!

_Mon. _ Well;
Let mischiefs multiply! Let every hour
Of my loathed life yield me increase of horror!
Oh, let the sun to these unhappy eyes
Ne'er shine again, but be eclipsed for ever!
May every thing I look on seem a prodigy,
To fill my soul with terrors, till I quite
Forget I ever had humanity,
And grow a curser of the works of nature!

_Pol. _ What means all this?

_Mon. _ Oh, Polydore, if all
The friendship e'er you vowed to good Castalio
Be not a falsehood; if you ever loved
Your brother, you've undone yourself and me.

_Pol. _ Which way can ruin reach the man that's rich,
As I am, in possession of thy sweetness?

_Mon. _ Oh! I'm his wife.

_Pol. _ What says Monimia? ha!
Speak that again.

_Mon. _ I am Castalio's wife.

_Pol_. His married, wedded wife?

_Mon. _ Yesterday's sun
Saw it performed.

_Pol. _ And then have I enjoyed
My brother's wife?

_Mon. _ As surely as we both
Must taste of misery, that guilt is thine.

_Pol. _ Must we be miserable then?

_Mon. _ Oh!

_Pol_. Oh! thou mayst yet be happy.

_Mon. _ Couldst thou be
Happy, with such a weight upon thy soul?

_Pol. _ It may be yet a secret: I'll go try
To reconcile and bring Castalio to thee;
Whilst from the world I take myself away,
And waste my life in penance for my sin.

_Mon. _ Then thou wouldst more undo me; heap a load
Of added sins upon my wretched head:
Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,
And bring pollution to his arms? curst thought!
Oh, when shall I be mad indeed!

_Pol. _ Nay, then,
Let us embrace, and from this very moment
Vow an eternal misery together.

_Mon. _ And wilt thou be a very faithful wretch?
Never grow fond of cheerful peace again?
Wilt thou with me study to be unhappy,
And find out ways how to increase affliction?

_Pol.
_ We'll institute new arts unknown before
To vary plagues, and make them look like new ones.
First, if, the fruit of our detested joy,
A child be born, it shall be murdered--

_Mon. _ No;
Sure that may live?

_Pol. _ Why?

_Mon. _ To become a thing
More wretched than its parents; to be branded
With all our infamy, and curse its birth.

_Pol. _ That's well contrived; then thus let's go together,
Full of our guilt, distracted where to roam,
Like the first wretched pair expelled their paradise.
Let's find some place where adders nest in winter,
Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hang
Like gums against the walls; where witches meet
By night, and feed upon some pampered imp,
Fat with the blood of babes: there we'll inhabit,
And live up to the height of desperation.
Desire shall languish like a withering flower,
And no distinction of the sex be thought of.
Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,
And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms;
But when I'm dying, take me in thy arms! [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




ACT THE FIFTH.


SCENE I. --_The Garden before_ ACASTO'S _House_.

CASTALIO _discovered lying on the ground_.

SONG.

Come, all ye youths, whose hearts e'er bled
By cruel beauty's pride;
Bring each a garland on his head,
Let none his sorrows hide:
But hand in hand around me move,
Singing the saddest tales of love;
And see, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine.

The happiest mortal once was I;
My heart no sorrows knew:
Pity the pain with which I die;
But ask not whence it grew.
Yet if a tempting fair you find,
That's very lovely, very kind,
Though bright as Heaven, whose stamp she bears,
Think of my fate, and shun her snares.

_Cast. _ See where the deer trot after one another,
Male, female, father, daughter, mother, son,
Brother and sister, mingled all together;
No discontent they know, but in delightful
Wildness and freedom, pleasant springs, fresh herbage,
Calm harbours, lusty health and innocence,
Enjoy their portion; if they see a man,
How will they turn together all, and gaze
Upon the monster!
Once in a season too they taste of love:
Only the beast of reason is its slave,
And in that folly drudges all the year.

_Enter_ ACASTO.

_Acast. _ Castalio! Castalio!

_Cast. _ Who's there
So wretched but to name Castalio?

_Acast. _ I hope my message may succeed.

_Cast. _ My father!
'Tis joy to see you, though where sorrow's nourished.

_Acast. _ I'm come in beauty's cause; you'll guess the rest.

_Cast. _ A woman! if you love my peace of mind,
Name not a woman to me; but to think
Of woman, were enough to taint my brains,
Till they ferment to madness! O my father!

_Acast. _ What ails my boy?

_Cast. _ A woman is the thing
I would forget, and blot from my remembrance.

_Acast. _ Forget Monimia!

_Cast. _ She to choose: Monimia!
The very sound's ungrateful to my sense.

_Acast. _ This might seem strange; but you, I've found, will hide
Your heart from me; you dare not trust your father.

_Cast. _ No more Monimia!

_Acast. _ Is she not your wife?

_Cast. _ So much the worse: who loves to hear of wife?
When you would give all worldly plagues a name
Worse than they have already, call them wife:
But a new-married wife's a teeming mischief,
Full of herself: why, what a deal of horror
Has that poor wretch to come, that wedded yesterday!

_Acast. _ Castalio, you must go along with me,
And see Monimia.

_Cast. _ Sure, my lord but mocks me:
Go see Monimia! Pray, my lord, excuse me;
And leave the conduct of this part of life
To my own choice.

_Acast. _ I say, no more dispute:
Complaints are made to me, that you have wronged her.

_Cast. _ Who has complained?

_Acast. _ Her brother to my face proclaimed her wronged,
And in such terms they've warmed me.

_Cast. _ What terms? Her brother! Heaven! where learnt he that?
What, does she send her hero with defiance?
He durst not sure affront you?

_Acast. _ No, not much.
But--

_Cast. _ Speak, what said he?

_Acast. _ That thou wert a villain:
Methinks I would not have thee thought a villain.

_Cast. _ Shame on the ill-mannered brute! Your age secured him;
He durst not else have said so.

_Acast. _ By my sword,
I would not see thee wronged, and bear it vilely;
Though I have passed my word she shall have justice.

_Cast. _ Justice! to give her justice would undo her:
Think you this solitude I now have chosen,
Left joys just opening to my sense, sought here
A place to curse my fate in, measured out
My grave at length, wished to have grown one piece
With this cold clay, and all without a cause?

_Enter_ CHAMONT.

_Cham. _ Where is the hero, famous and renowned
For wronging innocence, and breaking vows;
Whose mighty spirit, and whose stubborn heart,
No woman can appease, nor man provoke?

_Acast. _ I guess, Chamont, you come to seek Castalio.

_Cham. _ I come to seek the husband of Monimia.

_Cast. _ The slave is here.

_Cham. _ I thought ere now to have found you
Atoning for the ills you've done Chamont;
For you have wronged the dearest part of him.
Monimia, young lord, weeps in this heart;
And all the tears thy injuries have drawn
From her poor eyes are drops of blood from hence.

_Cast. _ Then you're Chamont?

_Cham. _ Yes, and I hope no stranger
To great Castalio.

_Cast. _ I've heard of such a man,
That has been very busy with my honour.
I own I'm much indebted to you, sir;
And here return the villain back again
You sent me by my father.

_Cham. _ Thus I'll thank you. [_Draws. _

_Acast. _ By this good sword, who first presumes to violence
Makes me his foe! [_Draws, and interposes. _
Young man, it once was thought [_To_ CASTALIO.
I was fit guardian of my house's honour,
And you might trust your share with me. --For you, [_To_ CHAMONT.
Young soldier, I must tell you, you have wronged me:
I promised you to do Monimia right;
And thought my word a pledge I would not forfeit:
But you, I find, would fright us to performance.

_Cast. _ Sir, in my younger years with care you taught me
That brave revenge was due to injured honour;
Oppose not then the justice of my sword,
Lest you should make me jealous of your love.

_Cham. _ Into thy father's arms thou fliest for safety,
Because thou know'st the place is sanctified
With the remembrance of an ancient friendship.

_Cast. _ I am a villain if I will not seek thee,
Till I may be revenged for all the wrongs
Done me by that ungrateful fair thou plead'st for.

_Cham. _ She wronged thee! by the fury in my heart,
Thy father's honour's not above Monimia's!
Nor was thy mother's truth and virtue fairer.

_Acast. _ Boy, don't disturb the ashes of the dead
With thy capricious follies: the remembrance
Of the loved creature that once filled these arms--

_Cham. _ Has not been wronged.

_Cast. _ It shall not.

_Cham. _ No, nor shall
Monimia, though a helpless orphan, destitute
Of friends and fortune, though the unhappy sister
Of poor Chamont, whose sword is all his portion,
Be oppressed by thee, thou proud, imperious traitor!

_Cast. _ Ha! set me free.

_Cham. _ Come both!

_Enter_ SERINA.

_Ser. _ Alas! alas!
The cause of these disorders, my Chamont?
Who is't has wronged thee?

_Cast. _ Now where art thou fled
For shelter?

_Cham. _ Come from thine, and see what safeguard
Shall then betray my fears.

_Ser. _ Cruel Castalio,
Sheathe up thy angry sword, and don't affright me.
Chamont, let once Serina calm thy breast;
If any of my friends have done thee injuries,
I'll be revenged, and love thee better for it.

_Cast. _ Sir, if you'd have me think you did not take
This opportunity to show your vanity,
Let's meet some other time, when by ourselves
We fairly may dispute our wrongs together.

_Cham. _ Till then, I am Castalio's friend.

_Cast. _ Serina,
Farewell; I wish much happiness attend you.

_Ser. _ Chamont's the dearest thing I have on earth;
Give me Chamont, and let the world forsake me!

_Cham. _ Witness the gods, how happy I'm in thee!
No beauteous blossom of the fragrant spring,
Though the fair child of nature newly born,
Can be so lovely. --Angry, unkind Castalio,
Suppose I should awhile lay by my passions,
And be a beggar in Monimia's cause,
Might it be heard?

_Cast. _ Sir, 'twas my last request
You would, though you I find will not be satisfied:
So, in a word, Monimia is my scorn;
She basely sent you here to try my fears;
That was your business.
No artful prostitute, in falsehoods practised,
To make advantage of her coxcomb's follies,
Could have done more--disquiet vex her for't!

_Cham. _ Farewell. [_Exeunt_ CHAMONT _and_ SERINA.

_Cast. _ Farewell. --My father, you seem troubled.

_Acast. _ Would I'd been absent when this boisterous brave
Came to disturb thee thus! I'm grieved I hindered
Thy just resentment. But Monimia--

_Cast. _ Damn her!

_Acast. _ Don't curse her.

_Cast. _ Did I?

_Acast. _ Yes.

_Cast. _ I'm sorry for't.

_Acast. _ Methinks, if, as I guess, the fault's but small,
It might be pardoned.

_Cast. _ No.

_Acast. _ What has she done?

_Cast. _ That she's my wife, may Heaven and you forgive me!

_Acast. _ Be reconciled then.

_Cast. _ No.