You would not have yours die, and buried with you? Cas. Mere vanity, and silly dotage, all:— No, let me live at large, and when I die—— Pol. Who shall possess th' estate you leave? Cas. My friend, If he survive me; if not, my king, Who may bestow't again on some brave man, Whose honesty and services deserve one. Pol. 'Tis kindly offer'd. Cas. By yon heaven, I love My Polydore beyond all worldly joys; And would not shock his quiet, to be blest With greater happiness than man e'er tasted. Pol. And, by that heaven, eternally I swear To keep the kind Castalio in my heart. Whose shall Monimia be? Cas. No matter whose. Pol. Were you not with her privately last night? Cas. I was; and should have met her here again. The opportunity shall now be thine? But have a care, by friendship I conjure thee, That no false play be offer'd to thy brother. Urge all thy powers to make thy passion prosper; But wrong not mine. Pol. By heaven, I will not. Cas. If't prove thy fortune, Polydore, to conquer (For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion); Trust me, and let me know thy love's success, That I may ever after stifle mine. Pol. Though she be dearer to my soul than rest To weary pilgrims, or to misers gold, To great men pow'r, or wealthy cities pride; Rather than wrong Castalio, I'd forget her. [exeunt Castalio and Polydore. Enter Monimia. Mon. Pass'd not Castalio and Polydore this way? Page. Madam, just now. Mon. Sure, some ill fate's upon me: Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart, And apprehension shocks my tim'rous soul. Why was I not laid in my peaceful grave With my poor parents, and at rest as they are? Instead of that, I'm wand'ring into cares.—— Castalio! O Castalio! hast thou caught My foolish heart; and, like a tender child, That trusts his plaything to another hand, I fear its harm, and fain would have it back. Come near, Cordelio; I must chide you, sir. Page. Why, madam, have I done you any wrong? Mon. I never see you now; you have been kinder; Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money for you. Page. Madam, I'd serve you with all my soul. Mon. Tell me, Cordelio (for thou oft hast heard Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets), Sometimes, at least, have they not talk'd of me? Page. O madam! very wickedly they have talk'd: But I am afraid to name it; for, they say, Boys must be whipp'd, that tell their masters' secrets. Mon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be known; For I'll preserve the secret as 'twere mine. Polydore cannot be so kind as I. I'll furnish thee with all thy harmless sports, With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page. Page. And truly, madam, I had rather be so. Methinks you love me better than my lord; For he was never half so kind as you are. What must I do? Mon. Inform me how thou'st heard Castalio and his brother use my name.