Whilst a hard part's perform'd; for I must tempt, Wound, his soft nature, though my heart aches for't. Re-enter Castalio. Cas. Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind To leave me here alone. Re-enter Polydore, with Page, at the door. Pol. Here place yourself, and watch my brother thoroughly; Pass not one circumstance without remark. [apart to Page, and exit. Cas. 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. O the bewitching tongues of faithless men! 'Tis thus the false hyena 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. Cas. What means my love? Oh, how have I deserv'd This language from the sovereign of my joys? Stop, stop, these tears, Monimia, for they fall Like baneful dew from a distemper'd sky; I feel 'em chill me to my very heart. Mon. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most forsworn! Attempt no further to delude my faith; My heart is fix'd, and you shall shake't no more. Cas. Who told you so? what hell-bred villain durst Profane the sacred business of my love? Mon. Your brother, knowing on what terms I'm here, Th' unhappy object of your father's charity, Licentiously discours'd to me of love, And durst affront me with his brutal passion. Cas. '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? Cas. I, knowing him precipitate and rash, Seem'd to comply with his unruly will; Lest he in rage might have our loves betray'd, And I for ever had Monimia lost. Mon. Could you then, did you, can you, own it too? 'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself! And I can never think you meant me fair. Cas. 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 break— Cas. It never wants pretences or excuse. Mon. Man therefore was a lord-like creature made, Rough as the winds, and as inconstant too: A lofty aspect given him for command; Easily soften'd when he would betray. Like conqu'ring tyrants, you our breasts invade; 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.