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Whilst afar off the vessel sails away,

Where all the treasure of my soul's embark'd,

Wilt thou not turn ?-Oh! could those eyes but speak,
I should know all, for love is pregnant in 'em;
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!

Cast." Pity, by the gods,

[Exit Monimia.

"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. 360


Pol. To live, and live a torment to myself, What dog would bear't, that knew but his condition ? We've little knowledge, and that makes us cowards, Because it cannot tell us what's to come.

Cast. Who's there?

Pol. Why, what art thou ?
Cast. My brother Polydore ?
Pol. My name is Polydore.
Cast. Canst thou inform me-
Pol. Of what!

Cast. Of my Monimia ?
Pol. No. Good-day.

Cast. In haste.

Methinks my Polydore appears in sadness.
Pol. Indeed, and so to me does my

Cast. Do I?

Pol. Thou dost.

Cast. Alas, I've wond'rous reason!


I'm strangely alter'd, brother, since I saw thee.
Pol. Why?

Cast. Oh! to tell thee, would but put thy heart
To pain.
Let me embrace thee but a little,
And weep upon thy neck; I would repose
Within thy friendly bosom all my follies;
For thou wilt pardon 'em, because they're mine.
Pol. Be not too credulous; consider first;

Friends may be false. Is there no friendship false?
Cast. Why do'st thou ask me that? Does this appear
Like a false friendship, when with open arms
And streaming eyes, I run upon thy breast?
Oh, 'tis in thee alone I must have comfort!

Pol. I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.
Cast. Dost thou not love me, then?

Pol. Oh, more than life:

I never had a thought of my Castalio,

Might wrong the friendship we had vow'd together. Hast thou dealt so by me?

Cast. I hope I have.

Pol. Then tell me why this mourning, this disorder? Cast. Oh, Polydore, I know not how to tell thee;

Shame rises in my face, and interrupts


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Pol. I grieve, my friend

Knows any thing which he's asham'd to tell me ;
Or didst thou e'er conceal thy thoughts from Polydore?

Cast. Oh, much too oft!

But let me here conjure thee,

By all the kind affection of a brother,

(For I'm asham'd to call myself thy friend) Forgive me

Pol. Well, go on.

Cast. Our destiny contriv'd

To plague us both with one unhappy love.

Thou, like a friend, a constant, gen'rous friend,
In its first pangs did trust me with thy passion,
Whilst I still smooth'd my pain with smiles before


And made a contract I ne'er meant to keep.

Pol. How!

Cast. Still new ways I study'd to abuse thee,
And kept thee as a stranger to my passion,
'Till yesterday I wedded with Monimia.
Pol. Ah, Castalio, was that well done!


Cast. No; to conceal't from thee was much a fault.

Pol. A fault! when thou hast heard

The tale I tell, what wilt thou call it then?

Cast. How my heart throbs!

Pol. First, for thy friendship, traitor,

I cancel't thus; after this day, I'll ne'er
Hold trust or converse with the false Castalio:
This, witness Heav'n.

Cast. What will my fate do with me?

I've lost all happiness, and know not why.
What means this, brother?

Pol. Perjur'd, treach'rous wretch,


Cast. I'll be thy slave, and thou shalt use me Just as thou wilt, do but forgive me.

Pol. Never.


Cast. Oh! think a little what thy heart is doing:
How, from our infancy, we, hand in hand,
Have trod the path of life in love together;
One bed hath held us, and the same desires,
The same aversions still employ'd our thoughts:
When e'er had I a friend that was not Polydore's?
Or Polydore a foe that was not mine !

Ev'n in the womb w'embrac'd, and wilt thou now,
For the first fault, abandon and forsake me,
Leave me, amidst afflictions, to myself,

Plung'd in the gulf of grief, and none to help me?
Pol. Go to Monimia, in her arms thou❜lt find
Repose; she has the art of healing sorrows.

Cast. What arts?

Pol. Blind wretch! thou husband! there's a question!

"Go to her fulsome bed, and wallow there :

"'Till some hot ruffian, full of lust and wine,

"Come storm thee out, and shew thee what's thy


"Cast. Hold there, I charge thee."

Pol. Is she not a

Cast. Whore?

Pol. Ay, whore; I think that word needs no ex


Cast. Alas! I can forgive ev'n this, to thee! But let me tell thee, Polydore, I'm griev'd

To find thee guilty of such low revenge,

To wrong that virtue which thou couldst not ruin.
Pol. It seems I lie, then?

Cast. Should the bravest man


That e'er wore conquering sword, but dare to whisper What thou proclaim'st, he were the worst of liars: My friend may be mistaken.

Pol. Damn th' evasion;

Thou mean'st the worst; and he's a base-born villain That said I lied.

Cast. Do, draw thy sword, and thrust it through my heart;

There is no joy in life, if thou art lost.

A base-born villain!

Pol. Yes; thou never cam'st

From old Acasto's loins; the midwife put

A cheat upon my mother, and instead

Of a true brother, in the cradle by me,

Plac'd some coarse peasant's cub, and thou art he.

Cast. Thou art my brother still.

Pol. Thou liest.

Cast. Nay then

Yet I am calm.


[He draws.

Pol. A coward's always so.

Cast. Ah!-ah-that stings home

Pol. Ay, base-born coward! villain!


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