 | The Orphan : or, The Unhappy-Marriage |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Polydor, and Page.Pol.
Were they so kind? Express it to me all
In words may make me think I saw it too.
Pag.
At first I thought they had been mortal Foes;
Monimia rag'd, Castalio grew disturb'd,
Each thought the other wrong'd, yet both so haughty,
They scorn'd submission; though Love all the while
The Rebel plaid, and scarce could be contain'd.
Pol.
But what succeeded?
Pag.
Oh 'twas wondrous pretty!
For of a sudden all the Storm was past,
A gentle calm of Love succeeded in;
Monimia sigh'd and blusht, Castalio swore;
As you, my Lord, I well remember did
To my young Sister in the Orenge-Grove,
24
Pol.
Happy Castalio! Now by my Great Soul,
M' Ambitious Soul, that Languishes to glory,
I'll have her yet, by my best hopes I will.
She shall be mine in spight of all her Arts.
But for Castalio why was I refus'd?
Has he supplanted me by some foul play,
Traduc'd my Honour? Death! he durst not do't.
It must be so: we parted and he met her,
Half to compliance brought by me, surpriz'd
Her sinking Vertue till she yielded quite,
So Poachers basely pick up tir'd Game,
Whilst the fair Hunter's cheated of his Prey.
Boy!
Pag.
My Lord!
Pol.
Go to your Chamber and prepare your Lute;
Find out some Song to please me, that discribes
Womans Hypocrisies, their subtle wiles,
Betraying smiles, feign'd tears, inconstancies,
Their painted outsides, and corrupted minds,
The sum of all their follies, and their falshoods.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
Oh the unhappyest Tydings Tongue e're told!
Pol.
The matter!
Serv.
Oh! your Father, my good Master,
As with his Guests he sat in mirth rais'd high,
And chas'd the Goblins round the joyful Board,
A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his Limbs:
His Eyes distorted grew; His Visage pale,
His Speech forsook him; Life it self seem'd fled,
And all his Friends are waiting now about him.
Enter Acasto leaning on Two.
Acast.
Support me, give me Air, I'll yet recover.
'Twas but a slip decaying Nature made,
For she grows weary near her Journeys end.
Where are my Sons? come near, my Polidore,
25
Serv.
My Lord,
Iv'e search'd, as you commanded, all the house,
He or Monimia are not to be found.
Acast.
Not to be found, then where are all my Friends? 'tis well,
I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault
M' unmannerly infirmity has made.
Death could not come in a more welcome hour,
For I'm prepar'd to meet him, and methinks
Would live and dye with all my Friends about me.
Enter Castalio.
Castal.
Angels preserve my dearest Father's Life,
Bless it with long and uninterrupted days!
Oh! may he live till time it self decay,
Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him!
Acast.
Thank you, Castalio; give me both your hands,
And bear me up, I'd walk: so, now methinks
I appear as great as Hercules himself,
Supported by the Pillars he had rais'd.
Cast.
My Lord, your Chaplain.
Acast.
Let the good man enter.
Cast.
Heaven guard your Lordship and restore your Health!
Acast.
I have provided for thee, if I dye.
No fawning! 'tis a scandal to thy Office.
My Sons, as thus united ever live,
And for the Estate, you'll find when I am dead
I have divided it betwixt you both
Equally parted, as you shared my love;
Only to sweet Monimia I've bequeath'd
Ten thousand Crowns, a little Portion for her,
To wed her honourably as she's born.
Be not less Friends because you're Brothers; shun
The man that's singular, his mind's unsound,
His Spleen o're-weighs his Brains, but above all
Avoid the politick, the factious Fool,
The busie, buzzing, talking, hardn'd Knave;
The quaint, smooth Rogue, that sins against his Reason;
Calls sawcy loud Suspicion, publick Zeal,
26
Be very careful how ye make new Friends,
Men read not Morals now, 'twas a Custom,
But all are to their Fathers Vices born:
And in their Mothers Ignorance are bred.
Let Marriage be the last mad thing ye doe,
For all the Sins and Follies of the past.
If you have Children, never give them knowledge,
'Twill spoil their Fortune, Fools are all the fashion.
If y'ave Religion, keep it to your selves,
Atheists will else make use of Toleration,
And laugh ye out on't, never shew Religion
Except ye mean to pass for Knaves of Conscience,
And cheat believing Fools that think ye honest.
Serin.
My Father!
Acasto.
My heart's Darling!
Serina.
Let my Knees
Fix to the Earth. Ne're let my Eyes have rest,
But wake and weep till Heaven restore my Father!
Acast.
Rise to my Arms, and thy kind prayers are answer'd,
For thou'rt a wondrous extract of all Goodness,
Born for my joy, and no pain's felt when near thee.
Chamont!
Cham.
My Lord, may't prove not an unlucky Omen!
Many I see are waiting round about you:
And I am come to ask a Blessing too.
Acasto.
May'st thou be happy!
Cham.
Where?
Acast.
In all thy wishes!
Cham.
Confirm me so, and make this Fair One mine,
I am unpractis'd in the Trade of Courtship;
And know not how to deal Love out with Art.
Onsets in Love seem best like those in War,
Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force.
So I would open my whole heart at once,
And pour out the abundance of my Soul.
Acast.
What says Serina? canst thou love a Souldier?
One born to Honour and to Honour bred;
One that has learnt to treat ev'n Foes with kindness;
To wrong no good mans Fame nor praise himself.
27
Oh! name not Love, for that's ally'd to joy,
And joy must be a stranger to my heart,
When you're in danger. May Chamonts good Fortune
Render him lovely to some happier Maid!
Whilst I at Friendly distance see him blest,
Praise the kind Gods and wonder at his Virtues.
Acast.
Chamont, pursue her, conquer, and possess her,
And as my Son a third of all my Fortune
Shall be thy Lot.
But keep thy Eyes from wandring man of frailty,
Beware the dangerous Beauty of the wanton,
Shun their enticements; Ruin like a Vulture
Waits on their Conquests: Falsehood too's their business,
They put false Beauty off to all the World;
Use false endearments to the Fools that love 'em,
And when they marry to their silly Husbands,
They bring false Virtue, broken Fame, and Fortune.
Monim.
Hear ye that, my Lord?
Polyd.
Yes, my fair Monitor, old men always talk thus.
Acast.
Chamont, you told me of some doubts that prest you.
Are you yet satisfied that I am your Friend?
Cham.
My Lord, I would not lose that satisfaction
For any blessing I could wish for.
As to my fears already I have lost 'em;
They ne're shall vex me more, nor trouble you.
Acast.
I thank you: Daughter, you must do so too.
My Friends 'tis late, or we would yet be company
For my disorder seems all past and over,
And I methinks begin to feel new health.
Cast.
Would you but rest, it might restore you quite.
Acast.
Yes, I'll to Bed; old men must humour weakness.
Let me have Musick then to lull and chase
This melancholly thought of Death away,
Good-night! my Friends, Heaven guard ye all! good night!
To morrow early we'll salute the day,
Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time.
[Ex. all but Chamont and Chaplain.
Cham.
Hist, hist, Sir Gravity, a word with you.
Chap.
With me, Sir?
Cham.
If you're at leasure, Sir, we'll wast an hour,
28
To lend your Conversation to a Stranger.
Chap.
Sir, you are a Souldier?
Cham.
Yes.
Chap.
I love a Souldier,
And had been one my self, but my old Parents
Would make me what you see of me, yet I'm honest
For all I wear black.
Cham.
And that's a wonder,
Have you had long dependance on this Family?
Chap.
I have not thought it so, because my time's
Spent pleasantly, My Lord's not haughty nor imperious,
Nor I gravely whimsical, he has good nature,
And I have manners;
His Sons too are civil to me, because
I do not pretend to be wiser than they are;
I meddle with no mans business but my own;
I rise in a morning early, study moderately,
Eat and drink chearfully, live soberly,
Take my innocent pleasures freely,
So I meet with respect, and am not the jest of the Family.
Cham.
I'm glad you are so happy:
A pleasant fellow this, and may be useful.
Knew you my Father the old Chamont?
Chap.
I did, and was most sorry when we lost him.
Cham.
Why? didst thou love him?
Ch.
Ev'ry body lov'd him; besides he was my masters Friend.
Cham.
I could Embrace thee for that very Notion.
If thou didst love my Father I could think
Thou wouldst not be an Enemy to me.
Chap.
I can be no mans Foe.
Cham.
Then prithee tell me;
Thinkst thou the Lord Castalio loves my Sister?
Nay, never start. Come, come, I know thy Office
Opens thee all the Secrets of the Family.
Then if thou art honest, use this Freedom kindly.
Chap.
Love your Sister?
Cham.
Ay, Love her.
Chap.
Sir, I never askt him.
And wonder you should ask it me.
Cham.
Nay, but th'art an Hypocrite: is there not one,
29
The pride of your Superiours makes ye Slaves:
Ye all live loathsome sneaking servile lives;
Not free enough to practise generous Truth,
Though ye pretend to teach it to the World.
Chap.
I would deserve a better thought from you.
Cham.
If thou would'st have me not contemn thy Office
And Character, think all thy Brethren Knaves,
Thy Trade a Cheat, and thou its worst Professour;
Inform me; for I tell thee, Priest, I'll know.
Chap.
Either he loves her, or he much has wrong'd her.
Cham.
How wrong'd her? have a care: for this may lay
A Scene of mischief to undo us all.
But tell me, wrong'd her say'dst thou?
Chap.
Ay, Sir, wrong'd her.
Cham.
This is a secret worth a Monarchs Fortune:
What shall I give thee for't? thou dear Physitian
Of sickly Souls, unfold this Riddle to me,
And comfort mine,—
Chap.
I would hide nothing from you willingly.
Cha.
Nay, then again thou'rt honest. Would'st thou tell me?
Chap.
Yes, If I durst.
Cham.
Why, what affrights thee?
Chap.
You do,
VVho are not to be trusted with the Secret.
Cham.
VVhy, I am no Fool.
Chap.
So indeed you say.
Cham.
Prithee, be serious then.
Chap.
You see I am so,
And hardly shall be mad enough to Night,
To trust you with my Ruin.
Cham.
Art thou then
So far concern'd in't? What has been thy Office?
Curse on that formal steady Villains Face!
Just so do all Bawds look; Nay, Bawds they say
Can pray upon occasion, talk of Heav'n,
Turn up their Gogling Eye-balls, rail at Vice,
Dissemble, lye, and preach like any Priest.
Art thou a Bawd?
Chap.
Sir, I'm not often us'd thus.
Cham.
Be just then.
30
So I will be to the trust
That's laid upon me.
Cham.
By the rev'renc'd Soul
Of that great honest man that gave me Being,
Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my Honour,
And if I e're reveal it to thy wrong,
May this good Sword ne're do me right in Battel!
May I ne're know that blessed peace of mind,
That dwells in good and pious men like thee!
Chap.
I see your temper's mov'd, and I will trust you.
Cham.
Wilt thou?
Chap.
I will; but if it ever 'scape you—
Cham.
It never shall.
Chap.
Swear then.
Cham.
I do, by all
That's dear to me, by th' Honour of my Name,
And that Power I serve, it never shall.
Chap.
Then this good day, when all the house was busie,
When mirth and kind rejoycing fill'd each Room,
As I was walking in the Grove I met them.
Cham.
VVhat met them in the Grove together? tell me.
How? walking, standing, sitting, lying? hah!
Chap.
I by their own appointment met them there,
Receiv'd their Marriage vows and joyn'd their hands.
Cham.
How! married!
Chap.
Yes, Sir.
Cham.
Then my Soul's at peace:
But why would you delay so long to give it?
Chap.
Not knowing what reception it may find
With old Acasto, may be I was too Cautious
To trust the secret from me.
Cham.
What's the cause
I cannot guess, though 'tis my Sisters Honour,
I do not like this Marriage
Hudl'd i'th' dark and done at too much Venture:
The business looks with an unlucky Face.
Keep still the secret; for it ne're shall 'scape me,
Not ev'n to them, the new matcht Paire. Farewell.
Believe my Truth and know me for thy Friend.
[Exeunt.
31
Cast.
Young Chamont, and the Chaplain! sure 'tis they!
No matter what's contriv'd or who consulted,
Since my Monimia's mine; tho' this sad Look
Seems no good boading Omen to our Bliss;
Else, prithee, tell me why that Look cast down?
Why that sad sigh as if thy heart were breaking?
Mon.
Castalio, I am thinking what we've done.
The Heavenly Powers were sure displeas'd to day!
For at the Ceremony as we stood,
And as your Hand was kindly joyn'd with mine,
As the good Priest pronounc't the Sacred Words,
Passion grew bigg and I could not forbear,
Tears drown'd my eyes, and trembling seiz'd my Soul.
What should that mean?
Cast.
Oh thou art tender all!
Gentle and kind, as sympathizing Nature!
When a sad story has been told, I've seen
Thy little breasts with soft Compassion swell'd,
Shove up and down, and heave like dying Birds;
But now let fear be banisht, think no more
Of danger, for there's safety in my Arms;
Let them receive thee: Heav'n, grow Jealous now.
Sure she's too good for any Mortal Creature!
I could grow wild, and praise thee ev'n to madness
But wherefore do I dally with my Bliss?
The Night's far spent and day draws on apace;
To bed my Love and wake till I come thither.
Pol.
So hot my Brother?
[Polydore at the Door.
Mon.
'Twill be impossible:
You know your Fathers Chamber's next to mine,
And the least noise will certainly alarm him.
Cast.
Impossible? Impossible? alas!
Is't possible to live one hour without thee?
Let me behold those Eyes; they'l tell me truth,
Hast thou no longing? Art thou still the same
Cold Joy Virgin? No; th' art alter'd quite.
32
Mon.
'Tis but one Night, my Lord, I pray be rul'd.
Cast.
Try if th'ast Pow'r to stop a flowing Tide,
Or in a Tempest make the Seas be Calm;
And when that's done I'll Conquer my desires.
No more, my Blessing. What shall be the sign?
When shall I come? Fot to my Joyes I'll steal
As if I ne're had paid my Freedom for them.
Mon.
Just three soft stroakes upon the Chamber door.
And at that Signal you shall gain Admittance:
But speak not the least word; for if you should,
'Tis surely heard and all will be betray'd.
Cast.
Oh! doubt it not Monimia, our Joyes
Shall be as silent as the Extatick bliss
Of Souls, that by Intelligence converse:
Immortal pleasures shall our senses drown;
Thought shall be lost, and every Pow'r dissolv'd:
Away, my Love; first take this kiss. Now haste.
I long for that to come, yet grudge each minute past.
[Ex. Mon.
My Brother wandring too so late this way!
Pol,
Castalio!
Cast.
My Polydore, how dost thou?
How does Our Father? is he well recover'd?
Pol.
I left him happily repos'd to Rest;
He's still as gay as if his life were young.
But how does fair Monimia?
Cast.
Doubtless well.
A Cruel Beauty with her conquests pleas'd
Is always joyful and her mind in health.
Pol.
Is she the same Monimia still she was?
May we not hope she's made of mortal Mould?
Cast.
She's not VVom in else:
Tho' I'm grown weary of this tedious hoping;
VV'ave in a barren desart stray'd too long.
Pol.
Yet may relief be unexpected found,
And Loves 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,
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I wish I'd never medl'd with the matter,
And would enjoyn thee, Polidore—
Pol.
To what?
Cast.
To leave this Peevish Beauty to her self.
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 wond'rous Reasons on my side,
That would perswade thee, were they known.
Pol.
Then speak 'em.
What are they? Came ye to her Window here
To learn 'em 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, yo'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 e're I reveal:
But, prithee, 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 yo've watch't me then?
Pol.
I scorn the Office.
Cast.
Prithee, avoid a thing thou may'st repent.
Pol.
That is henceforward making Leagues with you.
Cast.
Nay, if y'are angry, Polydore, good Night.
Pol.
Good Night, Castalio, if y'are in such haste.
34
But to his Chamber's gone to wait a while,
Then come and take possession of my Love.
This is the utmost Point of all my Hope,
Or now she must or never can be mine.
Oh! for a means now how to Counterplot
And disappoint this happy Elder Brother.
In ev'ry 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!
Enter Page.
Pag.
My Lord!
Pol.
Come hither, Boy.
Thou hast a pretty forward Lying face,
And may'st in time Expect preferment, canst thou
Pretend to secresie, Cajole and Flatter
Thy Masters follies and assist his pleasures?
Pag.
My Lord, I could do any thing for you,
And ever be a very Faithful Boy.
Command what e're's you Pleasure, I'll observe.
Be it to run, or watch; or to convey
A Letter to a Beautious Ladys Bosom;
At least I am not dull, and soon should learn.
Pol.
'Tis pity then thou should'st not be employ'd:
Go to my Brother, he's in's Chamber now
Undressing and preparing for his rest,
Find out some means to keep him up a while,
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'l 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
35
Succeed in this, and be employ'd again.
Pag.
Doubt not, my Lord: he has been always kind
To me; would often set me on his knees;
Then give me Sweet-Meats, call me pretty Boy,
And askt me what the Maids talkt of at Nights.
Pol.
Run quickly then, and prosperous be thy Wishes.
[Ex. Page.
Here I'm alone and fit for mischief; now,
To cheat this brother will't be honest, that
I heard the Sign she order'd him to give.
Oh 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 possest of more
Than sense can think, all loosen'd into Joy,
To hear my disappointed brother come,
And give the unregarded Signal; Oh!
What a malicious pleasure will that be!
Just three soft stroaks against the Chamber door,
But speak not the least word, for if you should,
It is surely heard, and we are both betray'd.
How I adore a Mistress that contrives
With care to lay the business of her Joyes!
One that has wit to charm the very Soul,
And give a double relish to delight!
Blest Heav'n, assist me but in this dear hour,
And my kind Starrs be but propitious now;
Dispose of me hereafter as you please.
Monimia! Monimia!
[Gives the Sign.
(Maid. at the Window.)
Whoe's there?
Pol.
'Tis I.
Maid.
My Lord Castalio?
Pol.
The same.
How does my Love, my Dear Monimia.
Maid.
Oh!
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.
36
Tell her I'm here, and let the door be open'd.
[Maid Descends.
Now boast, Castalio, Triumph now and tell
Thy self strange stories of a promis'd Bliss.
[The Door unbolts.
It opens, hah! what means my trembling flesh!
Limbs, do your Office and support me well.
Bear me to her, then fail me if you can.
Enter Castalio, and Page.
Pag.
Indeed, my Lord, 'twill be a lovely Morning,
Pray let us hunt.
Cast.
Go you're an Idle Pratler,
I'll stay at home to morrow, if your Lord
Thinks fit, he may command my Hounds: go leave me,
I must go to bed.
Pag.
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 disrob'd of thought,
And ready all with me to go to rest.
Good night: commend me to my Brother.
Pag.
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 whipt Youngster, if you get such
Songs as those are. What means
This Boyes impertinence to Night?
Pag.
Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear Lord?
Cast.
Psalms, Child, Psalms.
Pag.
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.
Pag.
Oh! but you promis'd me last time I told you what
Colour my Lady Monimia's stockings were of and that
She garter'd them above 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.
37
Well, go you Trifler and to morrow ask me.
Pag.
Indeed, my Lord, I can't abide to leave you.
Cast.
Why, wert thou instructed to attend me?
Pag.
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?
Pag.
Oh! I know who loves somebody.
Cast.
What's that to me, Boy?
Pag.
Nay, I know who loves you too.
Cast.
That is a wonder, prithee tell it me.
Pag.
Tis—tis—I know who—but will
You give me the Horse then?
Cast.
I will, my Child.
Pag.
It is my Lady Monimia, look you, but don't you
Tell her I told you, She'l give me no more play things then.
I heard her say so as she lay a bed, Man.
Cast.
Talkt she of me when in her bed, Cordelio?
Pag.
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 'em, for they made me asham'd.
Cast.
Heark, what's that Noise?
Take this, be gone, and leave me.
[Ex. Page.
You Knave, you little flatterer, get you gone.
Surely it was a Noise. Hist—only Fancy.
For all is husht, 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 Coucht;
The Fishes to their Banks or Ouze repair'd,
And to the murmurs of the Waters sleep;
The feeling Ayr's at rest and feels no noise,
Except of some soft Breaths among the Trees,
Rocking the harmeless birds that rest upon 'em.
'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 Us'rer steals untract,
To make a Visit to his hoarded Gold,
38
[Knocks.
She heares me not, sure she already sleeps.
Her wishes could not brook my so long Delay,
And her poor heart has beat it self to rest.
[Knocks again.
Monimia! my Angel—hah—not yet—
How long's the softest Moment of delay
To a Heart Impatient of it's pangs like mine,
In sight of ease and panting to the Goal.
[Knocks again.
Once more—
Maid.
Who's there,
That Comes thus rudely to disturb our Rest?
Cast.
'Tis I.
Maid.
Who are you, what's your Name?
Cast.
Suppose
The Lord Castalio.
Maid.
I know you not;
The Lord Castalio has no business here.
Cast.
Hah! have a care, what can this mean!
Who e're thou art, I charge thee to Monimia fly;
Tell her I'm here and wait upon my doom.
Maid.
Who e're you are, you may repent this outrage,
My Lady must not be disturb'd. Good Night!
Cast.
She must, tell her she shall, go I'm in haste,
And bring her tydings from the state of Love,
Th'are all in consultation met together,
How to reward my Truth, and Crown her Vows.
Maid.
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 Creatures trifling folly makes me mad.
Maid.
My Ladies 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.
Cast.
I'll not believ't.
Maid.
You may, Sir.
39
Curses blast thee!
Maid.
Well, 'tis a fine cool Evening, and I hope
May cure the raging Feaver in your Blood.
Good night!
Casta.
And farewell all that's just in Woman!
This is contriv'd, a studyed Trick to abuse
My easie nature, and torment my mind;
Sure now sh'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 use's Death and Torment.
'Tis impudence to think my Soul will bear it.
Oh I could grow ev'n 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,
[Lyes down.
Where I will ruminate on Womans Ills,
Laugh at my self and curse th' inconstant Sex.
Faithless Monimia! Oh Monimia!
Enter Ernesto.
Ernesto.
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,
Stretch'd 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 seemest to be,
Once leave me to my folly.
Ern.
I can't leave you,
And not the reason know of your disorders.
40
Have often born 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.
Cast.
Thou canst not serve me.
Ern.
Why?
Cast.
Because my thoughts
Are full of Woman, thou poor Wretch, art past'em.
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 Humane Frailty!
VVhat mighty Ills have not been done by VVoman?
VVho was't betray'd the Capitol? A VVoman.
VVho lost Mark Anthony the VVorld? 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 giv'n,
VVhen Innocence and Love were in their prime,
Happy a while in Paradise they lay,
But quickly VVoman 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 Tempations lewdly she inclin'd
Her Soul, and for an Apple damn'd Mankind.
| The Orphan : or, The Unhappy-Marriage | |