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It's surely heard, and we are both betray'd.
How I adore a mistress that contrives
With care to lay the business of her joys;
One that has wit to charm the very soul,
And give a double relish to delight!
Blest heav'ns, assist me but in this dear hour,
And my kind stars be but propitious now,
Dispose of me hereafter as you please.
Monimia! Monimia !

[Gives the sign. [Maid at the window.] Who's there? Pol. 'Tis 1. Maid. My lord Castalio ?

Pol. The same.
How does my love, my dear Monimia ?

Maid. Oh!
She wonders much at your unkind delay;
You've staid so long that at each little noise
The wind but makes, she asks if you are coming.
Pol. Tell her I'm here, and let the door be open'd.

[Maid descends. Now boast, Castalio, triumph now, and tell 480 Thyself strange stories of a promis'd bliss.

[The door unbolts. It opens! Hah! what means my trembling flesh ? Limbs, do your office, and support me well, Bear me to her, then fail me if you can.


Enter CASTALIO and Page. Page. Indeed, my lord, 'twill be a lovely morning; Pray let us hunt.

Cast. Go, you're an idle prattler. I'll stay at home to-morrow; if your lord Thinks fit, he may command my hounds. Go,

leave me, I must to bed.

Page. I'll wait upon your lordship,
If you think fit, and sing you to repose.

Cast. No, my kind boy, the night is too far wasted;
My senses too are quite disrob’d of thought,
And ready all with me to go to rest.
Good-night. Commend me to my brother.

Page. Oh! You never heard the last new song I learn'd! It is the finest, prettiest song indeed, Of my lord and my lady, you know who, that were caught

500 Together, you know where. My lord, indeed it is. Cast. You must be whipp'd, youngster, if you get

such songs as those are.
What means this boy's impertinence to-night?

Page. Why, what must I sing, pray, my dear lord ?
Cast. Psalms, child, psalms.
Page. Oh, dear me! boys that go to school learn

But pages, that are better bred, sing lampoons.

Cast. Well, leave me. I'm weary.

Page. Oh! but you omis'd me, the last time I told you what colour my lady Monimia's stockings were of, and that she garter'd them above knee, that you would give me a little horse to go a hunting upon, so you did. I'll tell you no more stories, except you keep your word with me.

Cast. Well, go, you trifler, and to-morrow ask me. Page. Indeed, my lord, I can't abide to leave you. Cast. Why, wert thou instructed to attend me!

Page. No, no, indeed, my lord, I was not;
But I know what I know.
Cast. What dost thou know? Death! what can all
this mean?

Page. Oh! I know who loves somebody.
Cast. What's that to me, boy?
Page. Nay, I know who loves you too.
Cast. That's a wonder! pr’ythee tell it me.

Page. 'Tistis—I know who—but will
You give me the horse, then?

Cast. I will, my child.

Page. It is my lady Monimia, look you; but don't You tell her I told you; she'll give me no more play-things then. I heard her say so, as she lay a-bed, man.

Cast. Talk'd she of me when in her bed, Cordelio ?

Page. Yes, and I sung her the song you made, too; and she did so sigh, and so look with her eyes; and her breasts did so lift up and down, I could have found in my heart to have beat 'em, for they made me asham'd.

Cast. Hark! what's that noise ? Take this, begone, and leave me. You knave, you little flatterer, get you gone. 540

[Exit Page.

Surely it was a noise i hist-only fancy;
For all is hush'd, as nature were retird,
“ And the perpetual motion standing still,”
So much she from her work appears to cease ;
And ev'ry warring element's at peace:
All the wild herds are in the coverts couch'd ;
The fishes to their banks or ouze repair'd,
And to the murmurs of the waters sleep;
The feeling air's at rest, and feels no noise,
Except of some soft breeze among the trees,
Rocking the harmless birds that rest upon 'em.
'Tis now, that, guided by my love, I go
To take possession of my Monimia's arms.
Sure Polydore's by this time gone to bed.
At midnight thus the us’rer steals untrack'd,
To make a visit to his hoarded gold,
And feasts his eyes upon'the shining mammon. [Knocks.
She hears me not; sure she already sleeps,
Her wishes could not brook so long delay,
And her

heart has beat itself to rest. 560

[Knocks again.
" Monimia! my angel-hah-not yet
“ How long's the shortest moment of delay,
6 To a heart impatient of its pangs like mine,
“ In sight of ease, and panting to the goal.”

[Knocks again. Once more

Maid. [At the window.] Who's there? That comes thus rudely to disturb our rest?

Cast. 'Tis I.

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Maid. Who are you? What's your name:
Cast. Suppose the lord Castalio.

Maid. I know you not.
The lord Castalio has no business here.

Cast. Ha! have a care; what can this mean?
Whoe'er thou art, I charge thee to Monimia Ay;
Tell her I'm here, and wait upon my doom.

Maid. Whoe'er you are, ye may repent this outrage. My lady must not be disturbed. Good night.

Cast. She must; tell her she shall. Go, I'm in haste, And bring her tidings from the state of love; They're all in consultation met together, 580 How to reward my truth, and crown her vows.

Maid. Sure the man's madı

Cast. Or this will make me so.
Obey me, or by all the wrongs I suffer,
I'll scale the window, and come in by force,
Let the sad consequence be what it will !
This creature's trifling folly makes me mad!

Maid. My lady's answer is, you may depart.
She says she knows you; you are Polydore,
Sent by Castalio, as you were to-day,
T'affront and do her violence again.

Cast. l'll not believe't.
Maid. You may, sir.
Cast. Curses blast thee !

Maid. Well, 'tis a fine cool ev'ning; and, I hope May cure the raging fever in your

blood. Good-night.

Cast. And farewel all that's just in wonen!

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