Cham. Then my soul's at peace:

Chap. Not knowing what reception it may find

Cham. What's the cause

[exeunt.

Cas. Young Chamont and the chaplain! sure 'tis they!

Mon. Castalio, I am thinking what we've done;

Cas. O, thou art tender all!

Mon. 'Twill be impossible:

Cas. No more, my blessing.

Mon. Just three soft strokes upon the chamber door,

Cas. Oh! doubt it not, Monimia; our joys

[exit Mon.

Pol. Castalio!

Cas. My Polydore, how dost thou?

Pol. I left him happily repos'd to rest:

Cas. Doubtless, well:

Pol. Is she the same Monimia still she was?

Cas. She's not woman else:

Pol. Yet may relief be unexpected found

Cas. No; she has still avoided me;

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