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When thou art from me, every place is desert,
And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn;
Thy presence only 'tis can make me blest,
Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my soul.

Mon. Oh, the bewitching tongues of faithless men !
'Tis thus the false hyæna makes her moan
To draw the pitying traveller to her den.
Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all,
With sighs and plaints y'entice poor women's hearts,
And all that pity you are made your prey.

361 Cast. What means my love? Oh, how have I deserv'd This language from the sov'reign of my joys ? Stop, stop those tears, Monimia, for they fall, Like baneful dew from a distempered sky; I feel 'em chill me to my very heart.

Mon. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most forsworn! Attempt no farther to delude my faith ; My heart is fixt, and you shall shak't no more.

Cast. Who told you so? What ill-bred villain durst Profane the sacred business of my love ?

Mon. Your brother, knowing on what terms I'm here, The unhappy object of your father's charity, Licentiously discours'd to me of love, And durst affront me with his brutal passion.

Cast. 'Tis I have been to blame, and only I; False to my brother, and unjust to thee. For, oh ! he loves thee too, and this day own'd it, Tax'd me with mine, and claim'd a right above me.

Mon. And was your love so very tame, to shrink; Or rather than lose him, abandon me?

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Cast. I, knowing him precipitate and rash,
To calm his heat, and to conceal my happiness,
Seem'd to comply with his unruly will ;
Talk'd as he talk'd, and granted all he ask'd;
Lest he in rage might have our loves betray'd,
And I for ever had Monimia lost.

Mon. Could you then ? did you i can you own it too?
'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself!
And I can never think you meant me fair.

Cast. Is this Monimia? surely no; till now
I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind.
Who trusts his heart with woman's surely lost.
You were made fair on purpose to undo us,
While greedily we snatch th' alluring bait,
And ne'er distrust the poison that it hides.
Mon. When love ill-plac'd would find a means to

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Cast. It never wants pretences or excuse.

Mon. Man therefore was a lord-like creature made,
Rough as the winds and as inconstant too:

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A lofty aspect given him for command,
Easily soften’d when he would betray.
Like conqu’ring tyrants, you our breasts invade,
While you are pleas'd to forage for a while ;
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave
The ravag'd province ruinate and waste.
If so, Castalio, you have serv'd my heart,
I find that desolation's settled there,
And I shall ne'er recover peace again.

Cast. Who can hear this and bear an equal mind I

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Since you will drive me from you, I must go;
But, oh, Monimia! When thou hast banish'd me,
No creeping slave, though tractable and dull
As artful woman for her ends would choose,
Shall ever doat as I have done: for, oh!
No tongue my pleasure nor my pain can tell,
'Tis heaven to have thee, and without thee hell.

Mon. Castalio, stay! we must not part. I find
My rage ebbs out, and love flows in apace.
These little quarrels, love must needs forgive, 420
“ They rouse up drowsy thoughts, and wake my soul,”
Oh! charm me with the music of thy tongue,
I'm ne'er so blest as when I hear thy vows,
And listen to the language of thy heart.

Cast. Where am Il surely Paradise is round me, Sweets planted by the hand of Heav'n grow here, And ev'ry sense is full of thy perfection. To hear thee speak might calm a madman's frenzy, Till by attention he forgot his sorrows; But to behold thy eyes, th’amazing beauties, Might make him rage again with love, as I do. “ To touch thee's heaven, but to enjoy thee. Oh!" Thou nature's whole perfection in one piece; Sure framing thee Heaven took unusual care As its own beauty it design'd thee fair; And form’d thee by the best lov'd angel there. [Ex.

ACT III. SCENE I.

A Garden. Enter POLYDORE and Page.

Polydore.
Were they so kind ? Express it to me all
In words, 'twill make me think I saw it too.

Page. 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 play'd, and scarce could be contain'd.

Pol. But what succeeded?

Page. Oh, 'twas wond'rous pretty!
For of a sudden all the storm was past,
A gentle calm of love succeeded it;
Monimia sigh'd and blush'd, Castalio swore ;
As you, my lord, I well remember, did
To my young sister in the orange grove,
When I was first preferr'd to be your page.

Pol. Happy Castalio! Now, by my great soul,
My ambitious soul, that languishes to glory,
I'll have her yet, by my best hopes I will.
She shall be mine, in spite 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; surprisid

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Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite.
So poachers basely pick up tired game,
While the fair hunter's cheated of his prey.
Boy!

Page. My lord!

Pol. Go to your chamber, and prepare your lute : Find out some song to please me, that describes Women's hypocrisies, their subtile wiles, Betraying smiles, feign'd tears, inconstancies; Their painted outsides, and corrupted minds; The sum of all their follies, and their falsehoods.

Enter Servant. Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er 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 goblet round the joyful board, 40 A sudden trembling seiz'd on all his limbs; His eyes distorted grew; his visage pale; His speech forsook him ; life itself 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 journey's end. Where are my sons? Come near, my Polydore; Your brother; where's Castalios

Serv. My lord,

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