But surely my Castalio won't forsake me,
And make a mock'ry of my easy love!
Went they together?

Page. Yes, to see you, madam.

Castalio promis'd Polydore to bring him,
Where he alone might meet you,

And fairly try the fortune of his wishes.

Mon. Am I then grown so cheap, just to be made A common stake, a prize for love in jest?

Was not Castalio very loth to yield it?
Or was it Polydore's unruly passion,
That heighten'd the debate?

Page. The fault was Polydore's.

Castalio play'd with love, and smiling show'd
The pleasure, not the pangs, of his desire.

He said, no woman's smiles should buy his freedom:
And marriage is a mortifying thing.

[Exit.

Mon. Then I am ruin'd! if Castalio's false, Where is there faith and honour to be found? Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide The weak, protect and take me to your care. O, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck me ? Why was I made with all my sex's softness, Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies? I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods, Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs; Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still,

Enter CASTALIO and POLYDORE.

He comes, the conqueror comes: lie still, my heart, And learn to bear thy injuries with scorn.

Cast. Madam, my brother begs he may have leave, To tell you something that concerns you nearly: I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw.

Mon. My Lord Castalio!

Cast. Madam ?

Mon. Have you purpos'd

To abuse me palpably? What means this usage?
Why am I left with Polydore alone?

Cast. He best can tell you. Business of importance Calls me away: I must attend my father.

Mon. Will you then leave me thus ?

Cast. But for a moment.

Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been, When business might have stay'd, and I been heard. Cast. I could for ever hear thee; but this time Matters of such odd circumstances press me, That I must go

[Exit.
Mon. Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever.
Well, my Lord Polydore, I guess your business,
And read th' illnatur'd purpose in your eyes.

Pol. If to desire you more than misers wealth,
Or dying men an hour of added life;
If softest wishes, and a heart more true
Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd,
Speak an illnature, you accuse me justly.

Mon. Talk not of love, my lord, I must not hear it.
Pol. Who can behold such beauty, and be silent?
Desire first taught us words: Man, when created,
At first alone long wander'd up and down,
Forlorn, and silent as his vassal beasts:

But when a heav'n-born maid, like you, appear'd,
Strange pleasure fill'd his eyes, and fir'd his heart,
Unloos'd his tongue, and his first talk was love,

Mon. The first created pair indeed were bless'd;
They were the only objects of each other,
Therefore he courted her, and her alone;
But in this peopled world of beauty, where
There's roving room, where you may court, and ruin
A thousand more, why need you talk to me?

Pol. Oh! I could talk to thee for ever; Thus Eternally admiring, fix, and gaze

On those dear eyes; for every glance they send
Darts thro' my soul, and almost gives enjoyment.
Mon. How can you labour thus for my undoing?
I must confess indeed, I owe you more
Then ever I can hope, or think, to pay.

There always was a friendship 'twixt our families;
And therefore when my tender parents dy'd,
Whose ruin'd fortunes too expir'd with them,
Your father's pity and his bounty took me,
A poor and helpless Orphan, to his care.

Pol. 'Twas Heav'n ordain'd it so, to make me happy.

Hence with this peevish virtue, 'tis a cheat;

Come, these soft, tender limbs were made for yielding. Mon. Here on my knees, by Heav'n's blest pow'r

I swear,

[Kneels. If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you, But rather wander through the world a beggar, And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors; For though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit My mother's virtues, and my father's honour. Pol. Intolerable vanity! your sex Was never in the right! y'are always false, Or silly; ev'n your dresses are not more Fantastic than your appetites; you think Of nothing twice; opinion you have none. To-day y'are nice, to-morrow not so free; Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then glad ; Now pleas'd, now not: and all, you know not why! Virtue you affect, inconstancy's your practice; And when your loose desires once get dominion, No hungry churl feeds coarser at a feast; Ev'ry rank fool goes down

Mon. Indeed, my lord,

I own my sex's follies; I have 'em all;
And, to avoid its fault, must fly from you.
Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high

As most fantastic woman's wish could reach,
And lay all Nature's riches at my feet;

I'd rather run a savage in the woods,

Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled and deform'd,
As wildness and most rude neglect could make me,
So I might still enjoy my honour safe,

From the destroying wiles of faithless men.— [Exit.
Pol. Who'd be that sordid thing call'd man,
To cringe thus, fawn, and flatter for a pleasure,
Which beasts enjoy so very much above him?
It shall be so I'll yet possess my love,

Wait on, and watch her loose, unguarded hours ;
Then, when her roving thoughts have been abroad,
And brought in wanton wishes to her heart,
I'th' very minute when her virtue nods,
I'll rush upon her, in a storm of love,

Beat down her guard of honour all before me,
Surfeit on joys, till ev'n desire grows sick;

Then, by long absence, liberty regain,
And quite forget the pleasure and the pain.
[Exeunt POLYDORE and PAGE.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

A Saloon.

Enter ACASTO, CASTALIO, POLYDORE, and
ATTENDANTS.

Acast. To-day has been a day of glorious sport:
When you, Castalio, and your brother left me,
Forth from the thickets rush'd another boar,
So large, he seem'd the tyrant of the woods,
Whetting his huge large tusks, and gaping wide,
As if he already had me for his

prey! Till, brandishing my well pois'd javelin high, I struck

The ugly brindled monster to the heart.

Cast. The actions of your life were always wondrous.

Acast. No flattery, boy! an honest man can't live

by't;

It is a little sneaking art, which knaves
Use to cajole and soften fools withal.
If thou hast flattery in thy nature, out with't,
Or send it to a court, for there 'twill thrive.
Cast. Your lordship's wrongs have been
So great, that you with justice may complain;
But suffer us, whose younger minds ne'er felt
Fortune's deceits, to court her, as she's fair:
Were she a common mistress, kind to all,

Her worth would cease, and half the world grow idle.