No More Learning

_Pol. _ Yet may relief be unexpected found,
And love's sweet manna cover all the field.
Met ye to-day?

_Cast. _ No; she has still avoided me.
Her brother too is jealous of her grown,
And has been hinting something to my father.
I wish I'd never meddled with the matter;
And would enjoin thee, Polydore--

_Pol. _ To what?

_Cast. _ To leave this peevish beauty to herself.

_Pol. _ What, quit my love? as soon I'd quit my post
In fight, and like a coward run away.
No, by my stars! I'll chase her till she yields
To me, or meets her rescue in another.

_Cast. _ Nay, she has beauty that might shake the leagues
Of mighty kings, and set the world at odds;
But I have wondrous reasons on my side
That would persuade thee, were they known.

_Pol. _ Then speak them.
What are they? came ye to her window here
To learn them now? Castalio, have a care;
Use honest dealing with your friend and brother.
Believe me, I'm not with my love so blinded,
But can discern your purpose to abuse me.
Quit your pretences to her.

_Cast. _ Grant I do;
You love capitulation, Polydore,
And but upon conditions would oblige me.

_Pol. _ You say, you've reasons; why are they concealed?

_Cast. _ To-morrow I may tell you:
It is a matter of such circumstance,
As I must well consult ere I reveal.
But, pr'ythee, cease to think I would abuse thee,
Till more be known.

_Pol. _ When you, Castalio, cease
To meet Monimia unknown to me,
And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease
To think Castalio faithless to his friend.
Did I not see you part this very moment?

_Cast. _ It seems you've watched me then?

_Pol. _ I scorn the office.

_Cast. _ Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou mayst repent.

_Pol. _ That is, henceforward making leagues with you.

_Cast. _ Nay, if you're angry, Polydore, good night. [_Exit. _

_Pol. _ Good-night, Castalio, if you're in such haste.
He little thinks I've overheard the appointment,
But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile,
Then come and take possession of my love.
This is the utmost point of all my hopes;
Or now she must or never can be mine.
Oh, for a means now how to counterplot,
And disappoint this happy elder brother!
In every thing we do or undertake,
He soars above me, mount what height I can,
And keeps the start he got of me in birth.
Cordelio!

_Re-enter_ Page.

_Page. _ My lord.

_Pol. _ Come hither, boy.
Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face,
And mayst in time expect preferment; canst thou
Pretend to secrecy, cajole and flatter
Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures?

_Page. _ My lord, I could do anything for you,
And ever be a very faithful boy.
Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe,
Be it to run, or watch, or to convey
A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom:
At least I am not dull, and soon should learn.

_Pol. _ 'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be employed.
Go to my brother; he's in's chamber now
Undressing, and preparing for his rest;
Find out some means to keep him up awhile
Tell him a pretty story that may please
His ear; invent a tale, no matter what;
If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone
To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure,
Whether he'll hunt to-morrow. --Well said, Polydore;
Dissemble with thy brother. --That's one point;
But do not leave him till he's in his bed:
Or if he chance to walk again this way,
Follow and do not quit him, but seem fond
To do him little offices of service.
Perhaps at last it may offend him; then
Retire, and wait till I come in. Away:
Succeed in this, and be employed again.

_Page. _ Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind
To me; would often set me on his knees;
Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy,
And ask me what the maids talked of at nights.

_Pol. _ Run quickly then, and prosperous be thy wishes! [_Exit_ PAGE.
Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief; now
To cheat this brother, will't be honest that?
I heard the sign she ordered him to give.
O for the art of Proteus, but to change
The happy Polydore to blest Castalio!
She's not so well acquainted with him yet,
But I may fit her arms as well as he.
Then when I'm happily possessed of more
Than sense can think, all loosened into joy,
To hear my disappointed brother come,
And give the unregarded signal--oh,
What a malicious pleasure will that be!
"Just three soft strokes against the chamber-door:
But speak not the least word; for if you should,
'Tis surely heard, and we are both betrayed. "
How I adore a mistress that contrives
With care to lay the business of her joys!
One that has wit to charm the very soul,
And give a double relish to delight!
Blest Heaven, assist me but in this dear hour,
And my kind stars be but propitious now,
Dispose of me hereafter as you please!
Monimia! Monimia! [_Gives the sign. _

_Flor. _ [_At the window. _] Who's there?

_Pol. _ 'Tis I.

_Flor. _ My Lord Castalio?

_Pol. _ The same.
How does my love, my dear Monimia?

_Flor. _ Oh!
She wonders much at your unkind delay;
You've stayed 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 opened.

[FLORELLA _retires_.

Now boast, Castalio; triumph now, and tell
Thyself strange stories of a promised bliss! [_The door is unbolted. _
It opens: ha! what means my trembling flesh?
Limbs, do your office and support me well;
Bear me to her, then fail me if you can. [_Exit. _

_Re-enter_ CASTALIO _and_ Page.

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

_Cast. _ 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.

_Cast. _ No, my kind boy, the night is too far wasted;
My senses too are quite disrobed of thought,
And ready all with me to go to rest.
Good-night: commend me to my brother.

_Page. _ Oh! you never heard the last new song I learnt; 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.

_Cast. _ You must be whipped, youngster, if you get such songs
as those are. What means this boy's impertinence to-night?

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

_Cast. _ Psalms, child, psalms.

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

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

_Page. _ Oh! but you promised me, last time I told you what
colour my Lady Monimia's stockings were of, and that she
gartered them above the knee, that you would give me a little
horse to go a-hunting upon; so you did. I'll tell you no more
stories, except you keep your word with me.

_Cast. _ Well, go, you trifler, and to-morrow ask me.

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

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

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

_Cast. _ What dost thou know? Death! what can all this mean?

_Page. _ Oh! I know who loves somebody.

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

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

_Cast. _ That is a wonder; pr'ythee tell it me.

_Page. _ That--'tis--I know who--but will you give me the horse
then?

_Cast. _ 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 a-bed, man.

_Cast. _ Talked 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 so look with her eyes, and her breasts did so lift
up and down; I could have found in my heart to have beat them,
for they made me ashamed.

_Cast. _ Hark, what's that noise? Take this, begone, and leave me.
You knave, you little flatterer, get you gone. [_Exit_ Page.
Surely it was a noise. Hist! --only fancy;
For all is hushed, as Nature were retired,
And the perpetual motion standing still,
So much she from her work appears to cease,
And every warring element's at peace;
All the wild herds are in their coverts couched;
The fishes to their banks or ooze repaired,
And to the murmurs of the waters sleep;
The feeling air's at rest, and feels[21] no noise,
Except of some soft breaths among the trees,
Rocking the harmless birds that rest upon them.
'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.
At midnight thus the usurer steals untracked,
To make a visit to his hoarded gold,
And feast his eyes upon the shining mammon. [_Knocks. _
She hears me not; sure she already sleeps;
Her wishes could not brook my long delay,
And her poor heart has beat itself to rest. [_Knocks again. _
Monimia! my angel--ha! --not yet--
How long's the shortest[22] moment of delay
To a heart impatient of its pangs, like mine,
In sight of ease, and panting to the goal!
Once more--[_Knocks again. _

_Flor. _ [_At the window. _] Who's there,
That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest?

_Cast. _ 'Tis I.

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

_Cast. _ Suppose
The Lord Castalio.

_Flor. _ I know you not.
The Lord Castalio has no business here.

_Cast. _ 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.

_Flor. _ Whoe'er ye are, ye may repent this outrage;
My lady must not be disturbed. Good-night.

_Cast. _ She must, tell her she shall; go, I'm in haste,
And bring her tidings from the State of Love;
They're all in consultation met together,
How to reward my truth, and crown her vows.

_Flor. _ Sure the man's mad!

_Cast. _ 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.

_Flor. _ My lady's answer is, you may depart;
She says she knows you: you are Polydore,
Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day,
To affront and do her violence again.

_Cast. _ I'll not believe't.

_Flor. _ You may, sir.

_Cast. _ Curses blast thee!

_Flor. _ Well, 'tis a fine cool evening; and I hope
May cure the raging fever in your blood.
Good-night. [_Retires. _

_Cast. _ And farewell all that's just in woman!
This is contrived, a studied trick to abuse
My easy nature, and torment my mind;
Sure now she has bound me fast, and means to lord it,
To rein me hard, and ride me at her will,
Till by degrees she shape me into fool
For all her future uses. Death and torment!
'Tis impudence to think my soul will bear it.
Oh, I could grow even wild, and tear my hair
'Tis well, Monimia, that thy empire's short
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 the 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.

_Cast. _ Who's there?

_Ern. _ A friend.

_Cast. _ If thou art so, retire,
And leave this place; for I would be alone.

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

_Cast. _ If thou art Ernesto,
As by thy honesty thou seem'st to be,
Once 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, pleased you in your pleasures,
And sought an early share in your affection.
Do not discard me now, but let me serve you.

_Cast. _ Thou canst not serve me.

_Ern. _ Why?

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

_Ern. _ I hate the sex.

_Cast. _ 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 betrayed 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 longed to go astray;
Some foolish new adventure needs must prove,
And the first devil she saw, she changed her love;
To his temptations lewdly she inclined
Her soul, and for an apple damned mankind. [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[20] _i. e. _ Palm off false beauty.

[21] Hears.

[22] "Softest" in original edition.




ACT THE FOURTH.


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

_Enter_ ACASTO.

Acast. Blest be the morning that has brought me health;
A happy rest has softened pain away,
And I'll forget it, though my mind's not well:
A heavy melancholy clogs my heart;
I droop and sigh, I know not why. Dark dreams,
Sick fancy's children, have been over-busy,
And all the night played farces in my brains.
Methought I heard the midnight raven cry;
Waked with the imagined noise, my curtains seemed
To start, and at my feet my sons appeared,
Like ghosts, all pale and stiff: I strove to speak,
But could not; suddenly the forms were lost,
And seemed to vanish in a bloody cloud.
'Twas odd, and for the present shook my thoughts;
But was the effect of my distempered blood;
And, when the health's disturbed, the mind's unruly.

_Enter_ POLYDORE.

Good-morning, Polydore.

_Pol. _ Heaven keep your lordship!

_Acast. _ Have you yet seen Castalio to-day?

_Pol. _ My lord, 'tis early day; he's hardly risen.

_Acast. _ Go, call him up, and meet me in the chapel. [_Exit_ POLYDORE.
I cannot think all has gone well to-night;
For as I waking lay (and sure my sense
Was then my own) methought I heard my son
Castalio's voice; but it seemed low and mournful;
Under my window too I thought I heard it:
My untoward fancy could not be deceived
In everything; and I will search the truth out.

_Enter_ MONIMIA _and_ FLORELLA.

Already up, Monimia! you rose
Thus early surely to outshine the day!
Or was there anything that crossed your rest?
They were naughty thoughts that would not let you sleep.

_Mon. _ Whatever are my thoughts, my lord, I've learnt
By your example to correct their ills,
And morn and evening give up the account.

_Acast. _ Your pardon, sweet one; I upbraid you not;
Or, if I would, you are so good I could not;
Though I'm deceived, or you're more fair to-day;
For beauty's heightened in your cheeks, and all
Your charms seem up and ready in your eyes.

_Mon. _ The little share I have's so very mean
That it may easily admit addition;
Though you, my lord, should most of all beware
To give it too much praise, and make me proud.

_Acast. _ Proud of an old man's praises! No, Monimia!
But if my prayers can do you any good,
Thou shalt not want the largest share of them.
Heard you no noise to-night?

_Mon. _ Noise, my good lord!

_Acast. _ Ay, about midnight?

_Mon. _ Indeed, my lord, I don't remember any.

_Acast. _ You must, sure! Went you early to your rest?

_Mon. _ About the wonted hour. --Why this inquiry? [_Aside. _

_Acast. _ And went your maid to bed too?

_Mon. _ My lord, I guess so:
I've seldom known her disobey my orders.

_Acast. _ Sure goblins then, or fairies, haunt the dwelling!
I'll have inquiry made through all the house,
But I'll find out the cause of these disorders.
Good-day to thee, Monimia. I'll to chapel. [_Exit. _

_Mon. _ I'll but dispatch some orders to my woman,
And wait upon your lordship there.
I fear the priest has played us false; if so,
My poor Castalio loses all for me.
I wonder, though, he made such haste to leave me;
Was't not unkind, Florella? surely 'twas!
He scarce afforded one kind parting word,
But went away so cold! --the kiss he gave me
Seemed the forced compliment of sated love.
Would I had never married!

_Flor. _ Why?

_Mon. _ Methinks
The scene's quite altered; I am not the same;
I've bound up for myself a weight of cares,
And how the burden will be borne, none knows.
A husband may be jealous, rigid, false;
And, should Castalio e'er prove so to me,
So tender is my heart, so nice my love,
'Twould ruin and distract my rest for ever.

_Flor. _ Madam, he's coming.

_Mon. _ Where, Florella? where?
Is he returning? To my chamber lead;
I'll meet him there: the mysteries of our love
Should be kept private as religious rites
From the unhallowed view of common eyes. [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]


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

_Enter_ CASTALIO.

_Cast. _ Wished 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.
The lusty swain comes with his well-filled scrip
Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls,
With much content and appetite, he eats,
To follow in the fields his daily toil,
And dress the grateful glebe, that yields him fruits.
The beasts, that under the warm hedges slept,
And weathered out the cold bleak night, are up,
And, looking towards the neighbouring pastures, raise
The voice, and bid their fellow-brutes good-morrow
The cheerful birds too, on the tops of trees,
Assemble all in quires, and with their notes
Salute and welcome up the rising sun.
There's no condition sure so cursed as mine;
I'm married! 'Sdeath! I'm sped. How like a dog
Looked Hercules, thus to a distaff chained!
Monimia! O Monimia!

_Enter_ MONIMIA _and_ FLORELLA.

_Mon. _ I come,
I fly to my adored Castalio's arms,
My wishes' lord. May every morn begin
Like this; and with our days our loves renew!
Now I may hope you're satisfied-- [_Looking languishingly on him. _

_Cast. _ I am
Well satisfied--that thou art--Oh! --

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

_Cast. _ 'Tis here; 'tis in my head; 'tis in my heart;
'Tis everywhere; it rages like a madness;
And I most wonder how my reason holds!
Nay, wonder not, Monimia: the slave
You thought you had secured within my breast
Is grown a rebel, and has broke his chain,
And now he walks there like a lord at large.

_Mon. _ Am I not then your wife, your loved Monimia?
I once was so, or I've most strangely dreamt.
What ails my love?

_Cast. _ Whate'er thy dreams have been,
Thy waking thoughts ne'er meant Castalio well.
No more, Monimia, of your sex's arts,
They're useless all: I'm not that pliant tool,
That necessary utensil you'd make me:
I know my charter better--I am man,
Obstinate man, and will not be enslaved.