eart aches for't.

_Re-enter Castalio._

_Cas._ Monimia, my angel! 'twas not kind
To leave me here alone.

_Re-enter Polydore, with Page, at the door._

_Pol._ Here place yourself, and watch my brother thoroughly;
Pass not one circumstance without remark.
[_apart to Page, and exit._

_Cas._ 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._ O the bewitching tongues of faithless men!
'Tis thus the false hyena makes her moan,
To draw the pitying traveller to her den:
Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all;
With sighs and plaints y' entice poor women's hearts,
And all that pity you are made your prey.

_Cas._ What means my love? Oh, how have I deserv'd
This language from the sovereign of my joys?
Stop, stop, these tears, Monimia, for they fall
Like baneful dew from a distemper'd sky;
I feel 'em chill me to my very heart.

_Mon._ Oh, you are false, Castalio, most forsworn!
Attempt no further to delude my faith;
My heart is fix'd, and you shall shake't no more.

_Cas._ 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,
Th' unhappy object of your father's charity,
Licentiously discours'd to me of love,
And durst affront me with his brutal passion.

_Cas._ 'Tis I have been to blame, and only I;
False to my brother, and unjust to thee.
For, oh! he loves thee too, and this day own'd it,
Tax'd me with mine, and claim'd a right above me.

_Mon._ And was your love so very tame, to shrink?
Or, rather than lose him, abandon me?

_Cas._ I, knowing him precipitate and rash,
Seem'd to comply with his unruly will;
Lest he in rage might have our loves betray'd,
And I for ever had Monimia lost.

_Mon._ Could you then, did you, can you, own it too?
'Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself!
And I can never think you meant me fair.

_Cas._ Is this Monimia? Surely, no! till now
I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind.
Who trusts his heart with woman's surely lost:
You were made fair on purpose to undo us,
While greedily we snatch th' alluring bait,
And ne'er distrust the poison that it hides.

_Mon._ When love, ill-plac'd, would find a means to break--

_Cas._ It never wants pretences or excuse.

_Mon._ Man therefore was a lord-like creature made,
Rough as the wi