Thomas Otway.

The works of Mr. Thomas Otway, in two volumes (Volume 2) online

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A heavy Melancholy clogs my Heart.
I droop and figh, I know not why : Dark Dreams,
Sick Fancy's Children, have been over-bufie.
And all the Night play'd Farces in my Brains i
Methought I heard the midnight-Raven cry
Wak^d with th' imagin'd Noile, my Curtains feem'd
To ftart, and at my Feet my Sons appear'd
Like Ghofts, all pale and ftiff: I ftrovc to fpeak,
Eirt could not; fuddenly the Forms were loft
And feem'd to vanifh in a bloody Cloud j
*Twas odd and for the prefent (hook my Thoughtf,
But was th'effeaofmydiftemper'd Blood;
And when the Health's difturb'd, the Mind's unruly-
^ . ^ ^nter Polydore.

Good Morning, Polydore.

Tel. Heav'n keep your Lordfhip.

Acafi. Have you yet feen Caftalio to day ?

?ol. My Lord ^tis early day, he's hardly rifen.

Map. Go, caU him up, and laeet me in the Chappcl,

\I.x. Pol.
J



The Orphan. i$f

I cannot think all has gone well to Night;

For as I waking lay Cand fure my Senfe

Was then my own) methought I heard my Son

Cajialio's Voice j but it feem'd low and mournful.

Under my Window too I thought I heard it j

M'untoward Fancy could not be deceived

In every thing j and I will fearch the truth out.

F>2ter Monimia, and her Maid.
Already up Monimia! you role
Thus early furely to out-fhine the Day!
Or was there any thing that croft your Reft?
They were naughty Thoughts that would not let you fleep»

Mon. Whatever are my Thoughts, my Lord, IVc learnt
By your Example to corredl their Ills,
And Morn, and Evening, give up the Account.

Acaji. Your Pardon, Sweet one, I upbraid you not.
Or if I v/ould, you are fo good I coula not.
Though Fm deceived, or you are more fair to Day;
For Beauty's heightened in your Cheeks, and all
Your Charms feem up, and ready in your Eyes.

Mon, The little ftiare I have's fo very mean.
That it may eaftly admit Addition ;
Though you, my Lord, fhould moft of all beware
To give it too much praife, and make me proud,

Acaji. Proud of an old Man's Praifes! No, Monh?fia!
But if my Prayers can work thee any good,
Thou ftialt not want the largeft ftiare of 'cna:
Heard you no Noife to Night ?

Mon. Noife! my good Lord!

^aji. Ay! about Midnight.

Mon. Indeed, my Lord, I don't remember any.

AcaJ}. You muft fure ! v/ent you early to reft ?

Mon. About the wonted hour. Why this Enquiry ? [.^I'^ti?'

Acaji. And went your Maid to bed too ?

Mon. My Lord, I guefs fo^
I've feldom known her difobey my Orders.

Acaft. Sure Goblins then. Fairies haunt the dwelling j
I'll have enquiry made through all the Houfe,
But I'll find out the Caufe of thefe Diforders.

Good Day to thee, Mommia FU to Chapel, [lA.Acaft,

Mon,



ts6 The Orphan.

Mon. I'll but difpatch fome Orders to my WomaUy
And wait upon your Lordfhip there.
I fear the Prieft has plaid us falfej if fo.
My poor Caftdio lofes all for me;
I wonder though he madefuch hafte to leave me^
Was't not unkind, Florella! furely 'twas!
He fcarce afforded one kind parting word,
But went away fo cold : The Kifs he gave mc
Seem'd the forc'd Compliment of fated Lovet
Would I had never marry'd !
MaUl. Why?
Mon. Methinks
The Scene's quite alter'd ; I am not the fame ;
(Ve bound up for my felf a weight of CareS*
And how the burden will be born, none knov/s.
A Husband may be jealous, rigid, falfe;
And fhould Cajidio e'er prove fo to me;
So tender is, my Heart, fo nice my Love,
Twould ruin, and diftrad my Reft for ever»
5 Mmd. Madam, he's coming.

Mon. Where, TkrelU? where?
Is he returning ? To my Chamber lead ;
I'll meet him there; The Myfteries of our Love
Should be kept private as Religious Rites,
From the unhallow'd View of common Eyes.

[JEx, Mon. and Maid.
Enter CaOizlio.
Cafi. Wifh'd Morning's come! And now upon the Plains
And difiant Mountains, where they feed their Flocks,
The happy Shepherds leave their homely Huts,
And with their Pipes proclaim the nevy-born day.
The lufty Swain comes with his wcll-fiird Scrip
Of healthful Viands, which, when hunger calls,
V/ith much content and appetite he eats,
To follow in the Fields his daily Toil,
And drefs the grateful Glebe, that yields him Fruits.
The Beafts that under the warm Hedges flept.
And weather'd out the cold bleak Night, are up.
And looking towards the Neighb'ring Paftures, raife
The Voice, and bid their fellow Brutes Good-morrow j

The



The Orphan, 157

The chearful Birds too, on the tops of Trees, • -
AfTemble all in Quires, and with their Notes
Salute and welcome up the riling Sun.
There's no Condition fure fo curs'd as mine;
I'm marry'd ! 'Sdeath! I am fped. How like a Dog
Looked Hercules, thus to a Diflaff chain'd ?
Monimia I oh Monimia! •

^nter Monimia, ana MAta.
Mon. I come,
I fly to my ador'd Caflalws Arms,
My Wifhes Lord. May every Morn begin
Like this; and with our Days our Loves renew.

Now I may hope y'are iatisfy d

[Looking Unguijlmily m him>

Cafl. I am
Well fatisfy d, that thou art Oh

Men. What? fpeak:
Art thou not well, Cajiallo? Come lean
Upon my Breafts, and tell me where's thy Pain,

Caji. 'Tis here ! 'tis in my Head ; 'tis in my Heart,
'Tis every where; it rages like a Madnefs;
And I moll: wonder how my Reafon holds;
Nay, wonder not, Monimia ; the Slave
You thought you had fecur'd within my Breaft?
Is grovTn a Rebel, and has broke his Chain,
And now he walks there like a Lord at large.

Men. Am I not then your Wife, your lov'd Monimia^
I once was fo, or I've moft flrangely dream't.
What ails my Love ;

Cad. What e'er thy Dreams have been.
Thy waking Thoughts ne'er meant Cajialio wel]=
No more, Monimia, of your Sexes Arts,
They are ufelefs all : I'm not that pliant Tool,
That necellary Utenfil you'd make me,

I know my Charter better 1 am Man,

Obftinate Man ; and will not be enflav'd.

Mon. You {hall not fear't; Indeed my Nature's eafiej
ril ever Uve your moft obedient Wife,
Nor ever any Privilege pretend
Beyond your Willj for that (hall be my Law 3

^ ' ■ '■ - - - Tndeei



IJ«



The Orphan.



Indeed I will not.

Caji, Nay, you (hall not, Madam,
By yon bright Heav'n, you iViall not j all the Day
I'll play the Tyrant, and at Night forfake theci
'Till by AfHi<flions and continued Cares,
I've worn thee to a homely Houfhold Drudge ;
Nay, if I've any too, thou fhalt be made
Subfervient to all my loofer Pleafures,
For thou haft wrong'd Cajlalto.

Mon. No more:
Oh kill me here, or tell me my Offence,
I'll never quit you elfe; but on thefe Knees,
Thus follov7 you all Day, 'till th'are worn bare,
And hang upon you like a drowning Creature.
CafiMio

Caft, Aw2Ly i laft Night, laft Night.

Afow. It was our Wedding-night.

CaJi. No more, forget it.

Mon. Why ? Do you then repent?

Caft. I do.

Mon. Oh Heav'n!
And will you leave me thus? help, help^ Tlorella.

[He drags ler to the Door, and heaks from her.
Help me to hold this yet lov'd cruel Man.

Oh my Heart breaks I'm dying, Oh ftand off j

I'll not indulge this Woman's wcaknefsj ftill
Chaft, and fomented, let my Heart fwell on.
Till with its Injuries it burft, and fhakc
With the dire Blow this Prifon to the Earth.

Maid. What fad Miftakc has been the caufe of this?

Mon. Cafialio: Oh! how often hasrhe fwore.
Nature fhould change, the Sun and Stars grow dark.
E'er he would falli^e his Vows to me.
Make hafte, Confufion, then: Sun loic thy light.
And Stars drop dead with Sorrow to the Earth j
For my Caftalio's falfe

Maid. Unhappy Day !

Mon. Falfe as the Wind, the Water, or the Weather j
Cruel as Tigers o'er their trembling Prey.
I feel him in my Breaft, he tears my Heart,

And



The Orphan. 15-9

And at each Sigh he drinks the gulhing Blood j
Muft I be long in pain?

I.nteT Chamont.

Chum, In Tears, Monimial

Mon. Who e'er thou art,
Leave me alone to my belov'd Defpair.

Cham. Lift up thy Eyes, and fee who comes to cheer thic.
Tell me the Story of thy Wrongs, and then
See if my Soul has reft till thou haft juftice,

Mon, My Brother!

Cham. Yes, Monimia, if thou think'ft
That I deferve the Name, I am thy Brother.

Mon. Oh Cajiali^!

Cham Hah!
Name me that Name again ! My Soul's on fire
Till I know all : There's Meaning in that Name, •
I know he is thy Husband : Therefore trull mc
With all the following truth-
Mow, Indeed Chamont,
There's nothing in it but the fault of Nature -.
I'm often thus feiz'd fuddenly with Grief,
I know not why.

Cham. You ufe me ill, Monimia;
And I might think with Juftice moft feverely
Of this unfaithful Dealing with your Brother.

Mon. Truly I am not to blame : Suppofe I'm fond.
And grieve, for what as much may pleafe another.
Should I upbraid the dearcft Friend on Earth
For the firft Fault? you would not do fo; Would you?

Chatn, Not, if I'd caufe to think it was a Friend.

MoH. why do you then call this unfaithful Dealing?
I ne'er conceal'd my Soul from you before:
Bear with me now, and fearch my Wounds no farther.
For every probing pains me to the Heart.

Cham. 'Tis fign there's danger in't, and muft be prevented,
Where's your new Husband? Still that thought dift:urbs you.
What, only anfwer me with tears? Caftal.Q!
Nay, now they ftream.
Cruel unkind Cajialio! is't not fo?



i6o The Orphan.

Mon. 1 cannot fpeak. Grief flows Co faft upon me.
It choaks and will not let me tell the caufe.
Oh!

Cham. My Monimia, to my Soul thou*rt dear.
As Honour to my xName : Dear as the Light
To Eyes but juft reftor'd, and heal'd of Blindnefs.
Why wilt thou not repofe within my Breall
The Anguifh that torments thee ?

Mon. Oh! I dare not.

Cham. I have no Friend but thee: We muft confide
In one another: Two unhappy Orphans,
Alas, we arej and when I fee thee grieve,
Methinks it is a Part of me that fuffers.

Mon. Oh fhould'ft thou know the Caufe of my lamenting,
I am fatisfy'd, Chamont, that thou would'il: fcorn me.
Thou would'il defpifc the abjccft loft Monimia,
No more would'ft praife this Beauty ; but
When in fome Cell diftra6ted, as I fhall be,
Thou feeft me lyej thefe unregarded Locks
Matted like Furies TrefTesi my poor Limbs
Chain'd to the Ground, and ftead of the Delights
Which happy Lovers tafte, my Keeper's ftripes,
A Bed of Straw, and a courfe Wooden Difti
Of wretched Suftenance } when thus thou feeft me.
Prithee have Charity and Pity for me.
Let me enjoy tliis Thought.

Cham. Why wilt rack
My Soul fo long, Monimia ? Eafe me quickly ;
Or thou wilt run me into Madnefs Erft.

Mon. Could you be fecret ?

Cham. Secret as the Grave.

Mon, But when I've told you, will you keep your Fury
Within its bounds? will you not do fome rafn
And horrid Mifchief ? for indeed, Chamo?n,
You would not think how hardly I've been us'd
From a near Friend 5 from one that has my Soul
A Slave, and therefore treats it like a Tyrant.

Cham. I will be calmj but has Cajialio wrong'd thce.^
Has he already wafted all his Love ?
What has he done? quickly 3 for I'm all trembling

' ' With



The Orphan. \Gx

"With expectation of a horrid Tale.

Mon, Oh! could you think it!

Cham. What?

Uon. I fear he'll kilt me.

Cham. Hah !

Mon. Indeed I do j he's llrangely cruel to me.
Which if it lafts, Fm fure muft break my Heart,

Cham. What has he done?

Men. Mofc barbaroufly us'd me:
Nothing To kind as he, when in my Arms;
In thoufand KifTes, tender Sighs and Joys,
Not to be thought again, the Night was wafted ^
At dawn of Day he rofe, and left his Conqueft.
But when we met, and I with open Arms
Ran to embrace the Lord of all my Wifhes,
Oh then!

Cham Go on!

Mon. He threw me from his Breaff,
Like a detefled Sin.

Cham. How?

Mon. As I hung too
Upon his Knees, and begg'd to know the Caulc,
He dragged me like a Slave upon the Earth,
And had no Pity on my Cries.

Cham. How ! did he
Dafh thee difdainfully away with fcorn !

Mon. He did \ and more I fear, will ne'er be Friendsf
Though I (till love him with unbated Paflion.

Cham. What, throw thee from him!

Mon. Yes, indeed he did.

Cham. So may tliis Arm
Throw him to the Earth, like a dead Dog defpifed ^
Lamenefi and Leprofie, Blindnefs and Lunacy,
Poverty, Shame, Pride, and the Name of Villain
Light on me, if, Cajialio, I forgive thee.

Mon. Nay, now, Chamont, art thou unkind as he is;
Didft thou not promife me thou would'ft be calm ?
Keep my Difgrace conceal'd ? why fhould'ft thou kill him ?
" By all my Love this Arm fhould do him Vengeance.

Alas, I love him ftill, arjd though I ne'er
Y Clafp



t6z The Orphan.

Clafp him again within thefe longing Arms,
Yet blefs him, blefs him (Gods) wherc-e'er he goes.
J-nter Acafto.

Accifl. Sure fome ill Fate \^ towards me ? in my Houfe
I only meet with odnefs and diforder j
Each VafTal has a wild diftradled Face j
And looks as full of Bufinefs as a Block-head
In times of danger; Juft this very Moment
I met Csifidio too -—

Chdm. Then you met a Villain.

Acfift, Hah!

Cham. Yes, a Villain.

AcAJi. Have a Care, young Soldier,
How thou'rt too bufie with AcafvSc Fame ?
I have a Sword, my Arm's good old Acquaintance.
Villain to thee

Ch^m. Curfe on thy fcandalous Age
Which hinders me to ruHi upon thy Throat,
And tear the Root up of that curicd Bramble I

Arafl. Ungrateful Ruffian! fare my good old Friend
Was ne'er thy Father^ nothing of him's in thee :
What have I done in my unhappy Age,
To be thus us'd ? I fcorn to upbraid that, Boy,
Bur 1 could put thee in remembrance. — —

CW;. Do.

Acaji. I fcorn it

Cha,m. No, I'll calmly hear the Story,
For I would fain know all, to fee which Scale

Weighs moft Hah, is not that good old Acnflof

What have I done? Can you forgive this Folly?

Acafi. Why doft thou ask it ?

Cham. 'Twas the rude over-flowing
Of too much PalTionj pray, my Lord, forgive me.[i&»«/;.

Acaji. Mock me not, Youth, I can revenge a Wrong.

Cham, I know it wellj but for this thought of mine.
Pity a mad Man's Frenzy, and forget it.

Acaft, I Willi but henceforth, prithee, be more kind.

[J^difei him.
Whence came the Caufe?

Cham, Indeed I've been to blame,

But



The Orphan. i(>3

But I'll learn better; for youVe been my Father:

YouVe been her Father too \Ta,kts Mon . by the Hand,

Acajl. Forbear the Prologue

And let me know the Subftance of thy Tale.

Cham. You took her up a little tender Flower,
Tuft fprouted on a Bank, v/hich the next Froft
Had nipt; and with a careful loving Hand,
Tranfplanted her into year own fair Garden,
Where the Sun always ("liwQs : There long ihe flourifli'd,
Grew fweet to Senfe, and lovely to the Eye,
'Till at the laft a cruel Spoiler came,
Cropt this fair Rofe, and rifled all its Sw^eetnefs,
Then caft it like a loathfome V/eed away.

Acaft. You talk to me in Parables, Chamont,
You may have known that I'm no wordy Man ;
Fine Speeches are the Inftruments of Knaves
Or Fools, that ufe 'em, when they wA.it good Senfej
But Honefty
Needs no Difguife nor Ornament; be plain.

Cham. Your Son

Acaft. I've two, and both I hope have Honour,

Chain. I hope fb too but —

Acafi. Speak,

Cham. 1 muft inform you.
Once more, Caft alio

Acad. Still, Caftalh!

Cham, Yes,
Your Son Caftalio has wrong'd MonimU,

Acaft. Hah! wrong'd her?

Cham. Marry 'd her.

Acaft. I'm forry for't.

Cham. Why forry?
By yon bleft Heav'n there's not a Lord
But might be proud to take her to his Heart.

Acaft. I'll not deny't.

Cham. You dare not by the Gods,
You dare not; all your Family combined
In one damn'd Falfhood to out-do Caftalib,
Dare not deny't.

Acaft, How has Caftalio wrong'd her?

Cham



^^4 The O R P H A N.

Chiim. Ask that of him : I fay, my Sifter's wronged :
Monmia my Sifter, born as high
And noble as Cajialio Do her Juftice,

^if ^J ^^^ ^^^^^ ^'^^ ^^y ^ ^^^^^ «^" B'oo^'
Shall make this Dwelling horrible to Nature.
Ill do'tj heark you, my Lord, your Son Ca.tialio

? h.m to your Clofet, and there teach him Manners,

^cjtji. You fhall have Juftice.

- ^ Cham. Nay 1 will have Juftice.

Who'll jleep in fafety that has done me wron^B
My Lord, I'll not difturb you to repeat
The Caufe of this j I beg you (to preferve
y©ur Houfe's Honour) ask it of C^fi;ilic.

^cafi. I will.

Cham. 'Till then farevvel r£,^.;-.^

•Acaji. Farewel, proud Boy.
Monimia !

Mon. M^ Lord,

^cafl. You are my Daughter.

Mon I am, my Lord, if you'll vouchfafe to own me.

^caft. When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a Father.

mn. Now I'm undone for ever; Who on Earth,
Iz there lo wretched as MonimUl
Firft by C^j?^//^ cruelly forfaken J -
lye loft Acaflo; His parting Frov/ns
May well inftruft me. Rage is in his Heartj
I ftiall be next abandon'd to my Fortune,
Thruft out a naked Wanderer to the World,
And branded for the mifchievous Mommm',
What will become of me ? My cruel' Brother
Is framing mifchiefs too, for ought I know,
That may produce Bloodftied, and horrid Murder :
I would not be the Caufe of one Man^s Death,
TH S i^r^r^P^'^'^^^^^Earthi nay, more.
Id rather lofe for ever my C^y?^/;(,, ^
My dear unkind Caftalio,

V.1 Ti^ ' • .-E«/^^ Polydore.

roi. Monimia weeping !

So Morning Dews on new-blown Rofes lodge.

By



7he Orphan- 1^5'

By the Sun's amorous Heat to be exhal'd.

I come, my Love, to kifs all Sorrow from thee.

What mean thefe Sighs: And why thus beats thy Heart?

Moil. Let me alone to forrow : 'Tis a Caufe
None e'er ifhall know; but it fhall with me die.

Tol. Happy, MonimU, he, to whom thefe Sighs,
Thefc Tears, aad all thefe Languiihings are paid !
I am no Stranger to your deareft Secret j
I know your Heart was never meant for me.
That Jewel's for an elder Brother's price.

Mon. My Lord.

fol. Nay, wonder not j laft Night I heard
His Oarhs, your Vows, and to my Torment faw
Your wild Embraces: Heard th' appointment made :
I did, Monimia, and I curft the Sound.
Wilt thou be fworn, my Love? wilt thou be ne'er
Unkind again ?

Mon. Banifh fuch fruitlefs Hopes!
Have you fworn Conftancy to my Undoing?
Will you be ne'er my Friend again ?

Fel. What means my Love?

Mon. Awayj what meant my Lord
Laft Night ?

Pol. Is that a Que(Hon now to be demanded?
I hope Monimia was not much difpleafed.

Men. Was it well done to treat me like a ProHitutc^
T'aflault my Lodging at the dead of Night,
And threaten me if I deny'd Admittance?—
You faid you were Cajialio

Pol. By thofe Eyes
It was the famej I fpent my time much tetter;
I tell thee ill-natur'd Fair One, I was pofted
To more advantage on a pleafant Hill
Of fpringing Joy, and everlaftmg Sweetnefs,

Men. hiah. -have a care

Fol. Where is the danger near me?

Mon. I fear you're on a Rock will wreck your Quiet,
And drown your Soul in wretchednefs for everj
A thoufand horrid Thoughts crowd on my Memory.
Will you be kind and anfy/er mc one Queftion ?

§ Poi:



i66 The Okvh An.

Pol. I'd truft thee with my Life on thofe foft Breaftsi
Breathe out the choiceft Secrets of my Heart j
'Till I had nothing in it left but Love.

Mon. Nay, I'll conjure you by the Gods, and Angels,
By the Honour of your Name, that's moft concern'd.
To tell me, folydore, and tell me truly,
Where did you reft laft Night?

Tol. Within thy Arms
I triumpht : Reft had been my Foe.

Mon. 'Tis done [She faints.

Vol. She faints! No help! who waits? a Curie
Upon my Vanity, that could not keep
The Secret of ray Happinefs in filence.
Confufion! we lliall be furpriz'd anon.
And confequently all muft be betray 'd.
Monmml (he breaths Monimia

Mon. Well

Let Mifchiefs multiply! Let every Hour

Of my loath'd Life yield me encreafe of Horror!

Oh let the Sun to thefe unhappy Eyes

Ne'er fhine again, but be eclips'd for ever!

May every thing I look on feem a Prodigy,

To fill my Soul with Terrors, 'till I quite

Forget I ever had Humanity,

And grow a Curfer of the Works of Nature!

Fol. What means all this ?

Mon. Oh, Volyderey if all
The Friend fliip e'er pu vow'd to good Cafialif
Be not a Falfhood, if you ever lov'd
Your Brother, you've undone your felf and me.

Pol. Which way can Ruin reach the Man that's Rich,
As I am in Poffeflion of thy Sweetnefs?

Mon. Oh, I'm his Wife.
Pol, What fays Mwipw/^/ hah!
Speak that again.

Mon. I am Cajlalio's Wife.
Pol. His marry'd wedded Wife?
Mon. Yefterday's Sim
Saw it perforra'd.



The Orphan. 167

Vel. And then have I enjoy 'd
My Brother's Wife?

Mon. As iiirely as we both
Muft tafte of Mifery, that Guilt is thine.
Tol. Muft we be miferable then ?
Mon. Oh!

Tol. Oh ! thou may 'ft yet be happy.
Mon. Couldft thou be
Happy with fuch a weight upon thy Soul ?

fd. It may be yet a Secret: I'll go try
To reconcile and bring Cajialio to thee,
Whilft from the World I take my felf away,
And wafte my Life in penance for my Sin.

Mon. Then thou wouldft more undo me : Heap a load
Of added Sins upon my wretched Head :
Wouldft thou again have me betray thy Brother,
And bring pollution to his Arms? curft Thought!
Oh when Ihall I be mad indeed !

Pol. Nay, then
Let us embrace, and from this very Moment
Vow an eternal Mifery together.

Mon. And wilt thou be a very faithful Wretch?
Never grow Fond of chcarfiil Peace again?
Wilt with me ftudy to be Unhappy,
And find out ways how to encreafe Affli(ftioa?

Pol. We'll inftitutc new Arts unknown before,
To vary Plagues and make 'em look hke ne ,v ones-
Firft, if the Fruit of our detefted Joy,
A Child be born, it Ihail be murdcr'd— —

Mon. No,
Sure that may live.
Pol. Why?

Mon. To become a thing
More wretched than its Parents, to be branded
With all our Infamy, and curfe its Birth.

Pol. That's well contrived j then thus let's go together.
Full of our Guilt, diftraded Vv'here to roam,
Like the iirft wretched Fair expell'd their Paradife.
Let's find fome place where Adders neft in Winter,
Loathfom and Venomous ; Where Poifons hang

Like



i60 7he Orphan,

Like Gums againft the Walls ; where Witches meet
By Night, and feed upon fome pamper'd Imp,
Fat with the Blood of Babes: There we'll inhabit.
And Hve up to the height of Defperation j
Defire fliall languish like a withering Flower,
And no Diftindion of the Sex be thought of.
Horrors fhall fright me from thofe pleafing harms.
And ril no more be caught with Beauty's Charms]
But when I'm dying take me in thy Arms. \lxe.



ACTV. SCENE I.

Caflalio lying on the Ground,

SONG.

I.

Co Af £, all ye Tomhs, vehofe Hearts e'er bled
By cruel Beauty's Pride,
Bring each a Garland on his Head^

Let none his Sorrows hitU,
But Hand in Hand around me move.
Singing thefadddejl Tales of Love-,

And fee, r^henyour Complaints ye join,
If all your Wrongs can equal mine,

II.

The Happiefi Mortal once was J,

My Heart no Sorrows knew.

ruy the Vain with which I die,

But ask not whence it grew.

ret if a tempting lair you find

That's very lovely, very kind.

Though bright as Heav\ whofe ftamp (l,s hears,
Thmk of my fate, and flmn her Snare/,



Caf



The Orphan. 1(^9

Ct/?. See v/here the Deer trot after one another,
Male, Female, Father, Daughter, Mother, Son,
Brother and Sifter mingled all together j
No difcontent they know, but in delightful
Wildnefs and Freedom, pleafant Springs, fi-efn Herbage,
Calm Harbours, lufty Health and Innocence,
Enjoy their portion ; if they fee a Man,
How will they turn together all, and gaze

Upon the Monfter

Once in a Seafon too they taQe of Love<
Only the Beaft of Reafon is its Slave,
And in that Folly drudges ail the Year. •
'Enter Acafto.

Acuji, CaJIalio! Caplie!

Caji. Who's there
So wretched but to natne Cajlalio ?

Acafl. I hope my Meffage may fucceed.

at/. My Father,
'Tis Joy to fee you, though v/here Sorrow's nouriflit.

Acafi. I'm corns, in Beauty's Caufe j you'll guefs the reft.

Cfiji. A Woman ! if you love my peace of Mind,
Name not a Woman to me; but to think
Of Woman were enough to taint my Brains,
Till they foment to madnefs: Oh! my Father.

Acafi. What ayies my Boy ?

C'xfl, A Woman is the thing
I would forget, and blot from my Remembrance.

Acaji. Yovget Mo-n:mia!

Caft. She to chufe ; Moiwn'ia !
The very found's ungrateful to my Senfe.

Acfiji. This might fee m ftrangc} but you I've found v^nll
Hide your Heart from me ; \om dare not truft to your Father.

Cajl, No more Menimiii.

Acafi. Is fhe not your Wife ?

CaJi. So much the worfe : who loves to hear of Wife ?
When you would give all worldly Plagues a Name
Worfe than they have already, call 'em Wife;
But a new married Wife's a feeming Mifchief,
Full of her felt: Why, what a deal of horro.ir
Has that poor Wretch to ccme, that wedded ^ efterday ?

Vol. II, H ' Jc^}



^'7o The Orphan.

Acafi. CffjUlio, you muft go along v/ith me
And iee Mon^m'm. '

Cafi. Sure my Lord but mocks mc :
Go :r^.Monimm! Pray my Lord, excufe mej
And leave the Condua oi this part of Life
To my o^ 'n Choice,

Amji. I fay, no more dif^ute.
Comr^aints are made to me, that you have wrong'd her.


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