_Cast._ My better angel, then, do thou inform me What danger threatens me, and where it lies: Why didst thou,--pr'ythee smile and tell me why,-- When I stood waiting underneath the window, Quaking with fierce and violent desires (The dropping dews fell cold upon my head, Darkness enclosed, and the winds whistled round me, Which with my mournful sighs made such sad music As might have moved the hardest heart); why wert thou Deaf to my cries, and senseless of my pains? _Mon._ Did I not beg thee to forbear inquiry? Read'st thou not something in my face, that speaks Wonderful change and horror from within me? _Cast._ Then there is something yet which I've not known: What dost thou mean by horror, and forbearance Of more inquiry? Tell me, I beg thee tell me; And don't betray me to a second madness. _Mon._ Must I? _Cast._ If, labouring in the pangs of death, Thou wouldst do anything to give me ease, Unfold this riddle ere my thoughts grow wild, And let in fears of ugly form upon me. _Mon._ My heart won't let me speak it; but remember, Monimia, poor Monimia tells you this, We ne'er must meet again. _Cast._ What means my destiny? For all my good or evil fate dwells in thee. Ne'er meet again! _Mon._ No, never. _Cast._ Where's the power On earth, that dares not look like thee, and say so? Thou art my heart's inheritance; I served A long and painful, faithful slavery for thee, And who shall rob me of the dear-bought blessing? _Mon._ Time will clear all, but now let this content you: Heaven has decreed, and therefore I've resolved,-- With torment I must tell it thee, Castalio,-- Ever to be a stranger to thy love; In some far-distant country waste my life, And from this day to see thy face no more. _Cast._ Where am I? Sure I wander 'midst enchantment, And never more shall find the way to rest. But, O Monimia! art thou indeed resolved To punish me with everlasting absence? Why turn'st thou from me? I'm alone already. Methinks I stand upon a naked beach, Sighing to winds, and to the seas complaining, Whilst afar off the vessel sails away, Where all the treasure of my soul's embarked. Wilt thou not turn?--Oh! could those eyes but speak, I should know all, for love is pregnant in them; They swell, they press their beams upon me still. Wilt thou not speak? If we must part for ever, Give me but one kind word to think upon, And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking! _Mon._ Ah, poor Castalio! [_Exit._ _Cast._ Pity! by the gods, She pities me! Then thou wilt go eternally? What means all this? why all this stir, to plague A single wretch? If but your word can shake This world to atoms, why so much ado With me? Think me but dead, and lay me so.