_Mon._ Yes, I will try him, torture him severely; For, O Castalio! thou too much hast wronged me, In leaving me to Polydore's ill usage. He comes; and now, for once, O Love, stand neuter, Whilst a hard part's performed! for I must tempt, Wound his soft nature, though my heart aches for it. [_Exit._ _Re-enter_ CASTALIO. _Cast._ Monimia, Monimia!--She's gone; And seemed to part with anger in her eyes: I am a fool; and she has found my weakness; She uses me already like a slave Fast bound in chains, to be chastised at will. 'Twas not well done to trifle with my brother: I might have trusted him with all the secret, Opened my silly heart, and shown it bare. But then he loves her too;--but not like me. I am a doting, honest slave, designed For bondage, marriage-bonds, which I have sworn To wear. It is the only thing I e'er Hid from his knowledge; and he'll sure forgive The first transgression of a wretched friend, Betrayed to love, and all its little follies. _Re-enter_ POLYDORE _and_ Page _at the Door_. _Pol._ Here place yourself, and watch my brother throughly: If he should chance to meet Monimia, make Just observation of each word and action; Pass not one circumstance without remark: Sir, 'tis your office; do't, and bring me word. [_Exit._ _Re-enter_ MONIMIA. _Cast._ Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind To leave me like a turtle here alone, To droop and mourn the absence of my mate. 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._ Oh, the bewitching tongues of faithless men! 'Tis thus the false hyæna makes her moan, To draw the pitying traveller to her den: Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all; With sighs and plaints ye entice poor women's hearts, And all that pity you are made your prey. _Cast._ What means my love? Oh, how have I deserved This language from the sovereign of my joys! Stop, stop those tears, Monimia, for they fall Like baneful dew from a distempered sky; I feel them chill me to the very heart. _Mon._ Oh, you are false, Castalio, most forsworn. Attempt no farther to delude my faith; My heart is fixed, and you shall shake't no more. _Cast._ 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, The unhappy object of your father's charity, Licentiously discoursed to me of love, And durst affront me with his brutal passion.