No More Learning

--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.
Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves,
Or fools, that use them when they want good sense.
But honesty
Needs no disguise or ornament. Be plain.

_Cham. _ Your son----

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

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

_Acas. _ Speak.

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

_Acas. _ Still Castalio!

_Cham. _ Yes;
Your son Castalio has wrong'd Monimia!

_Acas. _ Ha! wrong'd her?

_Cham. _ Marry'd her.

_Acas. _ 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.

_Acas. _ I'll not deny't.

_Cham. _ You dare not; by the gods,
You dare not. All your family combin'd
In one damn'd falsehood, to outdo Castalio,
Dare not deny't.

_Acas. _ How has Castalio wrong'd her?

_Cham. _ Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wrong'd:
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.

_Acas. _ 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. [_exit. _

_Acas. _ Farewell, proud boy. --
Monimia!

_Mon. _ My lord.

_Acas. _ You are my daughter.

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

_Acas. _ 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 abandon'd to my fortune,
Thrust out, a naked wand'rer 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. [_sits down. _

_Enter Polydore. _

_Pol. _ Monimia weeping!
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 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 curs'd 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. _ What meant my lord?
Last night?

_Pol. _ Is that a question now to be demanded?

_Mon. _ Was it well done
T' assault my lodging at the dead of night,
And threaten me if I deny'd admittance----
You said you were Castalio.

_Pol. _ By those eyes,
It was the same: I spent my time much better.

_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 that soft bosom
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 concern'd,
To tell me, Polydore, and tell me truly,
Where did you rest last night?

_Pol. _ Within thy arms.

_Mon. _ 'Tis done. [_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 surpris'd anon;
And consequently all must be betrayed.
Monimia! --she breathes! --Monimia!

_Mon. _ Well----
Let mischiefs multiply! let every hour
Of my loath'd life yield me increase of horror!
O let the sun, to these unhappy eyes,
Ne'er shine again, but be eclips'd 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. _ O Polydore! if all
The friendship e'er you vow'd to good Castalio
Be not a falsehood; if you ever lov'd
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?

_Mon. _ I am Castalio's wife!

_Pol. _ His marry'd, wedded, wife?

_Mon. _ Yesterday's sun
Saw it perform'd!

_Pol. _ My brother's wife?

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

_Pol. _ Oh! thou may'st 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 sin upon my wretched head!
Wouldst thou again have me betray thy brother,
And bring pollution to his arms? --Curs'd thought!
Oh! when shall I be mad indeed! [_exit. _

_Pol. _ Then thus I'll go;--
Full of my guilt, distracted where to roam:
I'll find some place where adders nest in winter,
Loathsome and venomous; where poisons hang
Like gums against the walls: there I'll inhabit,
And live up to the height of desperation.
Desire shall languish like a with'ring flower,
Horrors shall fright me from those pleasing harms,
And I'll no more be caught with beauty's charms. [_exit. _




ACT THE FIFTH.


SCENE I. A GARDEN.

_Castalio discovered lying on the ground; soft music. _

_Cas. _ See where the deer trot after one another;
No discontent they know; but in delightful
Wildness and freedom, pleasant springs, fresh herbage,
Calm arbours, 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. _

_Acas. _ Castalio! Castalio!

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

_Acas. _ I hope my message may succeed.

_Cas. _ My father!
'Tis joy to see you, though where sorrow's nourish'd.

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

_Cas. _ Sure my lord but mocks me:
Go see Monimia?

_Acas. _ I say, no more dispute.
Complaints are made to me that you have wrong'd her.

_Cas. _ Who has complain'd?

_Acas. _ Her brother to my face proclaim'd her wrong'd,
And in such terms they've warm'd me.

_Cas. _ What terms? Her brother! Heaven!
Where learn'd he that?
What, does she send her hero with defiance?
He durst not sure affront you?

_Acas. _ No, not much:
But----

_Cas. _ Speak, what said he?

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

_Cas. _ Shame on the ill-manner'd brute!
Your age secur'd him; he durst not else have said.

_Acas. _ By my sword,
I would not see thee wrong'd, and bear it vilely:
Though I have pass'd my word she shall have justice.

_Cas. _ Justice! to give her justice would undo her.
Think you this solitude I now have chosen,
Wish'd to have grown one piece
With this cold day, and all without a cause?

_Enter Chamont. _

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

_Acas. _ I guess, Chamont, you come to seek Castalio?

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

_Cas. _ The slave is here.

_Cham. _ I thought ere now to have found you
Atoning for the ills you've done Chamont:
For you have wrong'd 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.

_Cas. _ Then you are Chamont?

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

_Cas. _ 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. _

_Acas. _ By this good sword, who first presumes to violence,
Makes me his foe. [_draws and interposes. _

_Cas. _ Sir, in my younger years with care you taught me
That brave revenge was due to injur'd 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 fly'st for safety,
Because thou know'st that place is sanctify'd
With the remembrance of an ancient friendship.

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

_Cham. _ She wrong'd thee?