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 shoulders 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 my 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. Ha! Cham. What, alter'd? does your courage fail you? Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest. Answer me, if thou hast not lost 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 love's 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 hath 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; O more, to make me wretched, may you know it! Cham. Oh then, Monimia, art thou dearer to me Than all the comforts ever yet bless'd man. But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin. Trust not a man; we are by nature false, Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant: When a man talks of love, with caution trust him; But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee. I charge thee, let no more Castalio sooth thee; Avoid it, as thou wouldst preserve the peace Of a poor brother, to whose soul thou'rt precious. Mon. I will. Cham. Appear as cold, when next you meet, as great ones, When merit begs; then shalt thou see how soon His heart will cool, and all his pains grow easy.[exit. Mon. Yes, I will try him, torture him severely; For, O Castalio, thou too much hast wrong'd me, In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage. He comes; and now, for once, O Love, stand neuter,