To learn 'em now? Castalio, have a care; Use honest dealing with a friend and brother. Believe me, I'm not with my love so blinded, But can discern your purpose to abuse me. Quit your pretences to her. You say you've reasons: why are they conceal'd? Cas. To-morrow I may tell you. Pol. Why not now? Cas. It is a matter of such consequence, As I must well consult ere I reveal. But pr'ythee cease to think I would abuse thee, Till more be known. Pol. When you, Castalio, cease To meet Monimia unknown to me, And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease To think Castalio faithless to his friend. Did I not see you part this very moment? Cas. It seems you've watch'd me, then? Pol. I scorn the office. Cas. Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent. Pol. That is, henceforward making league with you. Cas. Nay, if ye're angry, Polydore, good night.[exit. Pol. Good night, Castalio, if ye're in such haste. He little thinks I've overheard th' appointment: But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile, Then come and take possession of my love. This is the utmost point of all my hopes; Or now she must, or never can, be mine. Oh, for a means now how to counterplot, And disappoint this happy elder brother In every thing we do or undertake, He soars above me, mount what height I can, And keeps the start he got of me in birth. Cordelio! Re-enter Page. Page. My lord! Pol. Come hither, boy! Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face, And may'st in time expect preferment. Canst thou Pretend to secresy, cajole and flatter Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures? Page. My lord, I could do any thing for you, And ever be a very faithful boy. Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe; Be it to run, or watch, or to convey A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom: At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn. Pol. 'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be employ'd. Go to my brother, he's in his chamber now, Undressing, and preparing for his rest; Find out some means to keep him up awhile: Tell him a pretty story, that may please His ear; invent a tale, no matter what: If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure, Whether he'll hunt to-morrow. But do not leave him till he's in his bed; Or, if he chance to walk again this way, Follow, and do not quit him, but seem fond To do him little offices of service. Perhaps at last it may offend him; then Retire, and wait till I come in. Away! Succeed in this, and be employ'd again. Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind To me; would often set me on his knee, Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy, And ask me what the maids talk'd of at nights. Pol. Run quickly then, and prosp'rous be thy wishes. Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief.[exit Page. I heard the sign she order'd him to give.