No More Learning

_ 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.

_Acast. _ Go see her.

_Cast. _ No.

_Acast. _ I'll send and bring her hither.

_Cast. _ No.

_Acast. _ For my sake,
Castalio, and the quiet of my age.

_Cast. _ Why will you urge a thing my nature starts at?

_Acast. _ Pr'ythee forgive her.

_Cast. _ Lightnings first shall blast me!
I tell you, were she prostrate at my feet,
Full of her sex's best dissembled sorrows,
And all that wondrous beauty of her own,
My heart might break, but it should never soften.

_Enter_ FLORELLA.

_Flor. _ My lord, where are you? O Castalio!

_Acast. _ Hark!

_Cast. _ What's that?

_Flor. _ Oh, show me quickly, where's Castalio?

_Acast. _ Why, what's the business?

_Flor. _ Oh, the poor Monimia!

_Cast. _ Ha!

_Acast. _ What's the matter?

_Flor. _ Hurried by despair,
She flies with fury over all the house,
Through every room of each apartment, crying,
"Where's my Castalio? give me my Castalio! "
Except she sees you, sure she'll grow distracted.

_Cast. _ Ha! will she? does she name Castalio?
And with such tenderness? Conduct me quickly
To the poor lovely mourner. O my father!

_Acast. _ Then wilt thou go? Blessings attend thy purpose.

_Cast. _ I cannot hear Monimia's soul in sadness,
And be a man; my heart will not forget her.
But do not tell the world you saw this of me.

_Acast. _ Delay not then, but haste and cheer thy love.

_Cast. _ Oh! I will throw my impatient arms about her,
In her soft bosom sigh my soul to peace:
Till through the panting breast she finds the way
To mould my heart, and make it what she will.
Monimia! Oh! [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]


SCENE II. --_A Room in_ ACASTO'S _House_.

_Enter_ MONIMIA.

_Mon. _ Stand off, and give me room!
I will not rest till I have found Castalio,
My wishes' lord, comely as rising day,
Amidst ten thousand eminently known.
Flowers spring up where'er he treads; his eyes,
Fountains of brightness, cheering all about him--
When will they shine on me? --O stay, my soul!
I cannot die in peace till I have seen him.

_Enter_ CASTALIO.

_Cast. _ Who talks of dying, with a voice so sweet
That life's in love with't?

_Mon. _ Hark! 'tis he that answers;
So in a camp, though at the dead of night,
If but the trumpet's cheerful noise is heard,
All at the signal leap from downy rest,
And every heart awakes, as mine does now.
Where art thou?

_Cast. _ Here, my love.

_Mon. _ No nearer, lest I vanish.

_Cast. _ Have I been in a dream then all this while?
And art thou but the shadow of Monimia?
Why dost thou fly me thus?

_Mon. _ Oh! were it possible that we could drown
In dark oblivion but a few past hours,
We might be happy.

_Cast. _ Is't then so hard, Monimia, to forgive
A fault, where humble love, like mine, implores thee?
For I must love thee, though it prove my ruin.
Which way shall I court thee?
What shall I do to be enough thy slave,
And satisfy the lovely pride that's in thee?
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 so have wronged.

_Cast. _ Thou hast not wronged me.

_Mon. _ Ah! alas, thou talk'st
Just as thy poor heart thinks. Have not I wronged thee?

_Cast. _ No.

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

_Cast. _ What means my love?

_Mon. _ Couldst thou but forgive me!

_Cast. _ What?

_Mon. _ For my fault last night: alas, thou canst not!

_Cast. _ I can, and do.

_Mon. _ Thus crawling on the earth [_Kneels. _
Would I that pardon meet; the only thing
Can make me view the face of Heaven with hope.

_Cast. _ Then let's draw near. [_Raises her. _

_Mon. _ Ah me!

_Cast. _ So in the fields,
When the destroyer has been out for prey,
The scattered lovers of the feathered kind,
Seeking, when danger's past, to meet again,
Make moan and call, by such degrees approach,
Till joining thus they bill, and spread their wings,
Murmuring love, and joy their fears are over.

_Mon. _ Yet have a care, be not too fond of peace,
Lest, in pursuance of the goodly quarry,
Thou meet a disappointment that distracts thee.

_Cast. _ My better angel, then, do thou inform me
What danger threatens me, and where it lies:
Why didst thou,--pr'ythee smile and tell me why,--
When I stood waiting underneath the window,
Quaking with fierce and violent desires
(The dropping dews fell cold upon my head,
Darkness enclosed, and the winds whistled round me,
Which with my mournful sighs made such sad music
As might have moved 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, labouring in the pangs of death,
Thou wouldst do anything 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. _ What means my destiny?
For all my good or evil fate dwells in thee.
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 served
A long and painful, 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 resolved,--
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 enchantment,
And never more shall find the way to rest.
But, O Monimia! art thou indeed resolved
To punish me with everlasting absence?
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 embarked.
Wilt thou not turn? --Oh! could those eyes but speak,
I should know all, for love is pregnant in them;
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,
And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking!