_Mon._ Stand off, and give me room! I will not rest till I have found Castalio, My wishes' lord, comely as rising day, Amidst ten thousand eminently known. Flowers spring up where'er he treads; his eyes, Fountains of brightness, cheering all about him-- When will they shine on me?--O stay, my soul! I cannot die in peace till I have seen him. _Enter_ CASTALIO. _Cast._ Who talks of dying, with a voice so sweet That life's in love with't? _Mon._ Hark! 'tis he that answers; So in a camp, though at the dead of night, If but the trumpet's cheerful noise is heard, All at the signal leap from downy rest, And every heart awakes, as mine does now. Where art thou? _Cast._ Here, my love. _Mon._ No nearer, lest I vanish. _Cast._ Have I been in a dream then all this while? And art thou but the shadow of Monimia? Why dost thou fly me thus? _Mon._ Oh! were it possible that we could drown In dark oblivion but a few past hours, We might be happy. _Cast._ Is't then so hard, Monimia, to forgive A fault, where humble love, like mine, implores thee? For I must love thee, though it prove my ruin. Which way shall I court thee? What shall I do to be enough thy slave, And satisfy the lovely pride that's in thee? I'll kneel to thee, and weep a flood before thee: Yet pr'ythee, tyrant, break not quite my heart; But when my task of penitence is done, Heal it again, and comfort me with love. _Mon._ If I am dumb, Castalio, and want words To pay thee back this mighty tenderness, It is because I look on thee with horror, And cannot see the man I so have wronged. _Cast._ Thou hast not wronged me. _Mon._ Ah! alas, thou talk'st Just as thy poor heart thinks. Have not I wronged thee? _Cast._ No. _Mon._ Still thou wander'st in the dark, Castalio; But wilt ere long stumble on horrid danger. _Cast._ What means my love? _Mon._ Couldst thou but forgive me! _Cast._ What? _Mon._ For my fault last night: alas, thou canst not! _Cast._ I can, and do. _Mon._ Thus crawling on the earth [_Kneels._ Would I that pardon meet; the only thing Can make me view the face of Heaven with hope. _Cast._ Then let's draw near. [_Raises her._ _Mon._ Ah me! _Cast._ So in the fields, When the destroyer has been out for prey, The scattered lovers of the feathered kind, Seeking, when danger's past, to meet again, Make moan and call, by such degrees approach, Till joining thus they bill, and spread their wings, Murmuring love, and joy their fears are over. _Mon._ Yet have a care, be not too fond of peace, Lest, in pursuance of the goodly quarry, Thou meet a disappointment that distracts thee.