Blest be your mother's memory, that bore you;
And doubly blest be that auspicious hour
That gave ye birth! Yes, my aspiring boys!

Ye shall have business, when your master wants you:
You cannot serve a nobler; I have serv'd him!
In this old body, yet the marks remain

Of many wounds. I've with this tongue proclaim'd
His right, e'en in the face of rank rebellion:
And when the foulmouth'd traitor once profan'd
His sacred name, with my good sabre drawn,
E'en at the head of all his giddy rout,

I rush'd, and clove the rebel to the chine.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. My lord, th' expected guests are just arriv'd. Acast. Go you, and give 'em welcome and recep

tion. [Exeunt CASTALIO and POLYDOre. Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your assistance, In something that concerns my peace and honour. Acast. Spoke like the son of that brave man I lov'd!

So freely, friendly, we convers'd together.
Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it;
Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword.
Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship, nor you
justice,

Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear,
My orphan sister, must not be forgotten!

Acast. Pr'ythee no more of that, it grates my na

ture.

Cham. When our dear parents dy'd, they dy'd to-
gether;

One fate surpris'd 'em, and one grave receiv'd 'em;
My father, with his dying breath, bequeath'd
Her to my love; my mother, as she lay
Languishing by him, call'd me to her side,

Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embrac'd me :
Then press'd me close, and, as she observ'd my tears,
Kiss'd them away; said she, Chamont, my son,
By this, and all the love I ever show'd thee,
Be careful of Monimia: watch her youth;
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour;

Perhaps kind Heav'n may raise some friend. Then sigh'd,

Kiss'd me again; so bless'd us, and expir'd.
Pardon my grief.

Acast. It speaks an honest nature.

Cham. The friend, Heav'n rais'd, was you; you took

her up,

An infant, to the desert world expos'd,

And prov'd another parent.

Acast. I've not wrong'd her.

Cham. Far be it from my fears.

Acast. Then why this argument?

Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it.

Acast. Go on.

Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly;
Good offices claim gratitude; and pride,
Where pow'r is wanting, will usurp a little,

And make us (rather than be thought behindhand)
Pay over price.

Acast. I cannot guess your drift;

Distrust you me ?

Cham. No, but I fear her, weakness

May make her pay her debt at any rate :

And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness,
I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.

Acast. Then first charge her; and if th' offence be found

Within my reach, tho' it should touch my nature,
In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance
Of thy braye father, whom my heart rejoic'd in,
I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance.

[Exit.

from my

soul.

Mon. Alas, my brother!

What have I done? and why do you abuse me?
My heart quakes in me; in your settled face,
And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate ;
You will not kill me?

Cham. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so?

Mon. Look kindly on me, then; I cannot bear Severity;

My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough, I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing; But use me gently, like a loving brother,

And search through all the secrets of my soul.

Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a bro-
ther,

A tender, honest, and a loving brother:
You've not forgot our father ?
Mon. I never shall.

Cham. Then you'll remember too, he was a man That liv'd up to the standard of his honour,

And priz'd that jewel more than mines of wealth :
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once:
Tho' kept in darkness from the world, and hidden,
He could not have forgiv'n it to himself.

This was the only portion that he left us ;
And I more glory in't than if possess❜d
Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.

Twas a large trust, and must be manag'd nicely;
Now if, by any chance, Monimia,

You have soil'd this gem, and taken from its value,
How will you account with me?

Mon. I challenge envy,

Malice, and all the practices of hell,

To censure all the actions of my past
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!

Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, as I Lay musing in my bed, all darkness round me,

D

A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat
Dew'd all my face, and trembling seiz'd my limbs :
My bed shook under me, the curtains started,
And to my tortur'd fancy there appear'd
The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art;
Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand
A wanton lover, which by turns caress'd thee
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure;
I snatch'd my sword, and in the very moment
Darted it at the phantom; straight it left me ;
Then rose, and call'd for lights, when, O dire omen!
I found my weapon had the arras pierc'd,
Just where that famous tale was interwoven,
How the unhappy Theban slew his father.

Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected!
Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden,
I must be tortur'd waking!

Cham. Have a care;

Labour not to be justify'd too fast:.

Hear all, and then let justice hold the scale.
What follow'd was the riddle that confounds me.
Through a close lane, as I pursu'd my journey,
And meditating on the last night's vision,
I spy'd a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red:
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seem'd wither'd,
And on her crooked shoulder, had she wrapp'd,
The tatter'd remnant of an old strip'd hanging,
Which serv'd to keep her carcase from the cold;
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd
With diff'rent colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow,
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.
I ask'd her of the way, which she inform❜d me ;
Then crav'd my charity, and bade me hasten
To save a sister! at that word I started!

Mon. The common cheat of beggars; every day
They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts
Of prophecy, and telling fools their fortunes.

Cham. Oh! but she told me such a tale, Monimia, As in it bore great circumstance of truth; Castalio and Polydore, my sister.

Mon. Hah!

Cham. What, alter'd! does your courage fail? Now by my father's soul, the witch was honest: Answer me, if thou hast not lost to them

Thy honour at a sordid game?

Mon. I will;

I must, so hardly my misfortune loads me,

That both have offer'd me their loves most true.

Cham. And 'tis as true too, they have both undone thee.

Mon. Though they both with earnest vows

Have press'd my heart, if e'er in thought I yielded
To any but Castalio-

Cham. But Castalio !

Mon. Still will you cross the line of my discourse. Yes, I confess, that he has won my soul By gen'rous love, and honourable vows, Which he this day appointed to complete, And make himself by holy marriage mine.

Cham. Art thou then spotless? hast thou still preserv'd

Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted?

Mon. When I'm unchaste, may Heaven reject my

prayers;

Or more, to make me wretched, may you know it!
Cham. Oh, then, Monimia, art thou dearer to me
Than all the comforts ever yet blest man.

But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin.
Trust not a man; we are by nature false,
Dissembling, subtile, cruel, and unconstant ;
When a man talks of love, with caution trust him ;