pt thee as a stranger to my passion,
Till yesterday I wedded with Monimia.

_Pol._ Ah! Castalio, was that well done?

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

_Pol._ A fault! when thou hast heard
The tale I'll tell, what wilt thou call it then?

_Cas._ 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, heaven.

_Cas._ 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,
Farewell!

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

_Pol._ Never.

_Cas._ 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 has held us, and the same desires,
The same aversions, still employ'd our thoughts.
Whene'er had I a friend that was not Polydore's,
Or Polydore a foe that was not mine?
E'en in the womb we 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.

_Cas._ What arts?

_Pol._ Blind wretch! thou husband? there's a question!
Is she not a----

_Cas._ What?

_Pol._ Whore? I think that word needs no explaining.

_Cas._ Alas! I can forgive e'en 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!

_Cas._ Should the bravest man
That e'er wore conq'ring sword, but dare to whisper
What thou proclaim'st, he were the worst of liars.
My friend may be mistaken.

_Pol._ Damn the evasion!
Thou mean'st the worst! and he's a base-born villain
That said, I lied!

_Cas._ 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!

_Cas._ Thou art my brother still.

_Pol._ Thou liest!

_Cas._ Nay, then---- [_draws._
Yet, I am calm.

_Pol._ A coward's always so.

_Cas._ Ah!--ah!--that stings home! Coward!

_Pol._ Ay, base-born coward! villain!

_Cas._ This to thy heart, then, thou