To make me lov'd and valu'd when I'm old; I would be busy in the world, and learn, Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed, Fix'd to one spot, and rot just as I grow. Cas. Our father Has ta'en himself a surfeit of the world, And cries, it is not safe that we should taste it. I own, I have duty very pow'rful in me: And though I'd hazard all to raise my name, Yet he's so tender, and so good a father, I could not do a thing to cross his will. Pol. Castalio, I have doubts within my heart, Which you, and only you, can satisfy. Will you be free and candid to your friend? Cas. Have I a thought my Polydore should not know? What can this mean? Pol. Nay, I'll conjure you too, By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship, To show your heart as naked in this point, As you would purge you of your sins to heav'n. And should I chance to touch it near, bear it With all the suff'rance of a tender friend. Cas. As calmly as the wounded patient bears The artist's hand, that ministers his cure. Pol. That's kindly said.——You know our father's ward, The fair Monimia:—is your heart at peace? Is it so guarded, that you could not love her? Cas. Suppose I should? Pol. Suppose you should not, brother? Cas. You'd say, I must not. Pol. That would sound too roughly Twixt friends and brothers, as we two are. Cas. Is love a fault? Pol. In one of us it may be—— What, if I love her? Cas. Then I must inform you I lov'd her first, and cannot quit the claim; But will preserve the birthright of my passion. Pol. You will? Cas. I will. Pol. No more; I've done. Cas. Why not? Pol. I told you, I had done. But you, Castalio, would dispute it. Cas. No; Not with my Polydore:—though I must own My nature obstinate, and void of suff'rance; I could not bear a rival in my friendship, I am so much in love, and fond of thee. Pol. Yet you will break this friendship! Cas. Not for crowns. Pol. But for a toy you would, a woman's toy, Unjust Castalio! Cas. Pr'ythee, where's my fault? Pol. You love Monimia. Cas. Yes. Pol. And you would kill me, If I'm your rival? Cas. No;—sure we're such friends, So much one man, that our affections too Must be united, and the same as we are. Pol. I dote upon Monimia. Cas. Love her still; Win, and enjoy her. Pol. Both of us cannot. Cas. No matter Whose chance it prove; but let's not quarrel for't. Pol. You would not wed Monimia, would you? Cas. Wed her! No—were she all desire could wish, as fair As would the vainest of her sex be thought, With wealth beyond what woman's pride could waste, She should not cheat me of my freedom.—Marry! When I am old and weary of the world, I may grow desperate, And take a wife to mortify withal. Pol. It is an elder brother's duty, so To propagate his family and name.