said he?

_Acas._ That thou wert a villain:
Methinks I would not have thee thought a villain.

_Cas._ Shame on the ill-manner'd brute!
Your age secur'd him; he durst not else have said.

_Acas._ By my sword,
I would not see thee wrong'd, and bear it vilely:
Though I have pass'd my word she shall have justice.

_Cas._ Justice! to give her justice would undo her.
Think you this solitude I now have chosen,
Wish'd to have grown one piece
With this cold day, and all without a cause?

_Enter Chamont._

_Cham._ Where is the hero, famous and renown'd
For wronging innocence, and breaking vows;
Whose mighty spirit, and whose stubborn heart,
No woman can appease, nor man provoke?

_Acas._ I guess, Chamont, you come to seek Castalio?

_Cham._ I come to seek the husband of Monimia.

_Cas._ The slave is here.

_Cham._ I thought ere now to have found you
Atoning for the ills you've done Chamont:
For you have wrong'd the dearest part of him.
Monimia, young lord, weeps in this heart;
And all the tears thy injuries have drawn
From her poor eyes, are drops of blood from hence.

_Cas._ Then you are Chamont?

_Cham._ Yes, and I hope no stranger
To great Castalio.

_Cas._ I've heard of such a man,
That has been very busy with my honour.
I own I'm much indebted to you, sir,
And here return the villain back again
You sent me by my father.

_Cham._ Thus I'll thank you. [_draws._

_Acas._ By this good sword, who first presumes to violence,
Makes me his foe. [_draws and interposes._

_Cas._ Sir, in my younger years with care you taught me
That brave revenge was due to injur'd honour:
Oppose not then the justice of my sword,
Lest you should make me jealous of your love.

_Cham._ Into thy father's arms thou fly'st for safety,
Because thou know'st that place is sanctify'd
With the remembrance of an ancient friendship.

_Cas._ I am a villain, if I will not seek thee,
Till I may be reveng'd for all the wrongs
Done me by that ungrateful fair thou plead'st for.

_Cham._ She wrong'd thee? By the fury in my heart,
Thy father's honour's not above Monimia's;
Nor was thy mother's truth and virtue fairer.

_Acas._ Boy, don't disturb the ashes of the dead
With thy capricious follies; the remembrance
Of the lov'd creature that once fill'd these arms----

_Cham._ Has not been wrong'd.

_Cas._ It shall not.

_Cham._ No, nor shall
Monimia, though a helpless orphan, destitute
Of friends and fortune, though the u