rdy man.
Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves,
Or fools, that use them when they want good sense.
But honesty
Needs no disguise or ornament. Be plain.

_Cham._ Your son----

_Acas._ I've two; and both, I hope, have honour.

_Cham._ I hope so too; but----

_Acas._ Speak.

_Cham._ I must inform you,
Once more, Castalio----

_Acas._ Still Castalio!

_Cham._ Yes;
Your son Castalio has wrong'd Monimia!

_Acas._ Ha! wrong'd her?

_Cham._ Marry'd her.

_Acas._ I'm sorry for't.

_Cham._ Why sorry?
By yon blest heaven, there's not a lord
But might be proud to take her to his heart.

_Acas._ I'll not deny't.

_Cham._ You dare not; by the gods,
You dare not. All your family combin'd
In one damn'd falsehood, to outdo Castalio,
Dare not deny't.

_Acas._ How has Castalio wrong'd her?

_Cham._ Ask that of him. I say, my sister's wrong'd:
Monimia, my sister, born as high
And noble as Castalio.--Do her justice,
Or, by the gods, I'll lay a scene of blood
Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature.
I'll do't.--Hark you, my lord, your son Castalio,
Take him to your closet, and there teach him manners.

_Acas._ You shall have justice.

_Cham._ Nay, I will have justice!
Who'll sleep in safety that has done me wrong?
My lord, I'll not disturb you to repeat
The cause of this; I beg you (to preserve
Your house's honour) ask it of Castalio. [_exit._

_Acas._ Farewell, proud boy.--
Monimia!

_Mon._ My lord.

_Acas._ You are my daughter.

_Mon._ I am, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe to own me.

_Acas._ When you'll complain to me, I'll prove a father. [_exit._

_Mon._ Now I'm undone for ever! Who on earth
Is there so wretched as Monimia?
First by Castalio cruelly forsaken;
I've lost Acasto now: his parting frowns
May well instruct me, rage is in his heart.
I shall be next abandon'd to my fortune,
Thrust out, a naked wand'rer to the world,
And branded for the mischievous Monimia!
What will become of me? My cruel brother
Is framing mischiefs, too, for aught I know,
That may produce bloodshed and horrid murder!
I would not be the cause of one man's death,
To reign the empress of the earth; nay, more,
I'd rather lose for ever my Castalio,
My dear, unkind, Castalio. [_sits down._

_Enter Polydore._

_Pol._ Monimia weeping!
I come, my love, to kiss all sorrow from thee.
What mean these sighs, and why thus beats thy heart?

_Mon._ Let me alone to sorrow; 'tis a cause
None e'er shall