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Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness,
Acast. You talk to me in parables, Chamont,
Cha. Your son
Cha. I must inform you,
Acast. Still Castalio!
Acast. Hah! wrong'd her?
Cha. Why sorry?
Acast. I'll not deny't.
Cha. You dare not, by the gods
Acast. How has Castalio wrong'd her?
Monimia, my sister, born as high
Acast. You shall have justice.
Cha. Nay, I will have justice.
Acast. I will,
[Exit. Acast. Farewel, proud boy. Monimia !
Mon. My lord.
[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!
400 " What will become of me?" My cruel brother
Is framing mischiefs too, for ought I know,
Pol. Monimia weeping! “ So morning dews on new-blown roses lodge, “By the sun's am’rous heat to be exhal’d.” I come, my love, to kiss all sorrow from thee, What mean these sighs? And why thus beats thy
Pol. Happy, Monimia, he to whom these sighs,
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 swore constancy to my undoing?
you be ne'er my friend again ? Pol. What means my love?
Mon. Away; what meant my lord Last night?
Pol. Is that a question now to be demanded? I hope Monimia was not much displeas’d.
Mon. Was it well done to treat me like a prostitute? T'assault my lodging at the dead of night, And threaten me if I deny'd admittanceYou said you were Castalio
Pol. By those eyes
Mon. Hah-have a care-
Mon. I fear you're on a rock will wreck your quiet,
Pol. I'll trust thee with my life; on those soft breasts 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 th' 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
Pol. What means all this?
Mon. Oh, Polydore, if all
Pol. Which way can ruin reach the man that's rich, As I am, in possession of thy sweetness ? 481
Mon. Oh! I'm his wife.
Pol. What says Monimia ! hah! “ Speak that again."
Mon. I am Castalio's wife.