Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love

Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest;

Then praise our God, and watch thee till the morning. Jaf. Hear this, ye Heavens! and wonder how you

made her:

Reign, reign, ye monarchs that divide the world,

Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know
Tranquillity and happiness like mine!

Like gaudy ships th' obsequious billows fall,
And rise again to lift you in your pride;

They wait but for a storm, and then devour you;
I, in my private bark already wrecked,

Like a poor merchant driven to unknown land,
That had by chance packed up his choicest treasure

In one dear casket, and saved only that;
Since I must wander farther on the shore,
Thus hug my little, but my precious store,
Resolved to scorn and trust my fate no more.

[Exeunt.

MONIMIA, an Orphan, is brought up by ACASTO, whose two Sons, CASTALIO and POLYDORE, have each bestowed their affections on "the Orphan." CASTALIO alone is beloved by MONIMIA, and a secret Marriage is contrived by the Lovers. CHAMONT, a young Soldier, Brother to MONIMIA, hears reports against his Sister's honour, and seeks an explanation from ACASTO and MONIMIA.

CHAMONT, ACASTO, MONIMIA.

Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your assistance, In something that concerns my peace and honour. Acas. Spoke like the son of that brave man I loved!

So freely, friendly, we conversed together.
Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it;
Thou shalt command my fortune, and my sword.

Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship, nor your justice. Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear,

My orphan sister, must not be forgotten!

Acas. Pr'ythee no more of that, it grates my nature.

Cham. When our dear parents died, they died together; One fate surprised 'em, and one grave received 'em ; My father, with his dying breath, bequeathed

Her to my love; my mother, as she lay

Languishing by him, called me to her side,

Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embraced me;
Then pressed me close, and, as she observed my tears,
Kissed them away: said she, "Chamont, my son,
By this, and all the love I ever showed thee,
Be careful of Monimia: watch her youth;
Let not her wants betray her to dishonour;
Perhaps kind Heaven may raise some friend.”
Kissed me again; so blessed us, and expired.
Pardon my grief.

Acas. It speaks an honest nature.

Then sighed

Cham. The friend Heaven raised was you; you took her

up,

An infant, to the desert world exposed,

And proved another parent.

Acas. I've not wronged her.

Cham. Far be it from my fears.

Acas. Then why this argument?

Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it. Acas. Go on.

Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly;

Good offices claim gratitude; and pride,
Where power is wanting, will usurp a little,

And make us (rather than be thought behindhand)
Pay over price.

Acas. I cannot guess your drift;

Distrust you me?

Cham. No, but I fear her weakness

May make her pay her debt at any rate;

And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness,

I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.

Acas. Then first charge her; and if th' offence be found
Within my reach, though it should touch my nature,
In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance

Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoiced in,
I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance.

Cham. I thank you, from my soul.

Mon. Alas, my brother! what have I done?
My heart quakes in me; in your settled face,
And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate.
You will not kill me?

Cham. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so?

Mon. Look kindly on me then; I cannot bear
Severity; it daunts, and does amaze me;
My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough,
I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing;
But use me gently, like a loving brother,

And search through all the secrets of my soul.

Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a brother.

A tender, honest, and a loving brother.

You've not forgot our father?

Mon. I never shall.

Cham. Then you'll remember too he was a man

[Exit.

That lived up to the standard of his honour,

And prized that jewel more than mines of wealth:
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once.
Though kept in darkness from the world, and hidden,
He could not have forgiven it to himself.

This was the only portion that he left us,
And I more glory in't than if possessed

Of all that ever fortune threw on fools.

'Twas a large trust, and must be managed nicely; Now, if by any chance, Monimia,

You have soiled this gem, and taken from its value, How will you account with me?

Mon. I challenge envy,

Malice, and all the practices of hell,
To censure all the actions of my past
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!

Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, as I
Lay musing on my bed, all darkness round me,
A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat
Dewed all my face, and trembling seized my limbs :
My bed shook under me, the curtains started,
And to my tortured fancy there appeared
The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art;
Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand
A wanton lover, who by turns caressed thee
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure.
I snatched my sword, and in the very moment
Darted it at the phantom; straight it left me;
Then rose, and called for lights, when, O dire omen!

I found my weapon had the arras pierced,
Just where that famous tale was interwoven,
How the unhappy Theban slew his father.

Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected!
Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden,
I must be tortured waking!

Cham. Have a care;

Labour not to be justified too fast :

Hear all, and then let justice hold the scale.
What followed was the riddle that confounds me.
Through a close lane, as I pursued my journey,
And meditating on the last night's vision,

I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;
Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and red;
Cold palsy shook her head, her hand seemed withered,
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapped
The tattered remnant of an old striped hanging,
Which served to keep her carcass from the cold:
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched
With different coloured rags, black, red, white, yellow,
And seemed to speak variety of wretchedness.
I asked her of my way, which she informed me;
Then craved my charity, and bade me hasten
To save a sister! at that word I started!

Mon. The common cheat of beggars; every day

They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts

Of prophecy, and telling fools their fortunes.

Cham. Oh! but she told me such a tale, Monimia, As in it bore great circumstance of truth:

Castalio and Polydore, my sister.

Mon. Ha!

Cham. What, altered? does your courage fail you? Now, by my father's soul, the witch was honest.