Page. With all the tenderness of love, You were the subject of their last discourse. At first I thought it would have fatal prov'd; But, as the one grew hot, the other cool'd, And yielded to the frailty of his friend; At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolv'd—— Mon. What, good Cordelio? Page. Not to quarrel for you. Mon. I would not have 'em, by my dearest hopes; I would not be the argument of strife. But surely my Castalio won't forsake me, And make a mock'ry of my easy love! Went they together? Page. Yes, to seek you, madam. Castalio promis'd Polydore to bring him, Where he alone might meet you, And fairly try the fortune of his wishes. Mon. Am I then grown so cheap, just to be made A common stake, a prize for love in jest? Was not Castalio very loth to yield it? Or was it Polydore's unruly passion, That heighten'd the debate? Page. The fault was Polydore's. Castalio play'd with love, and smiling show'd The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire. He said, no woman's smiles should buy his freedom; And marriage is a mortifying thing.[exit. Mon. Then I am ruin'd! if Castalio's false, Where is there faith and honour to be found? Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide The weak, protect and take me to your care. O, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck me! Why was I made with all my sex's fondness, Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies? I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods, Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs; Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still. Re-enter Castalio and Polydore. He comes. Cas. Madam, my brother begs he may have leave To tell you something that concerns you nearly. I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw. Mon. My lord Castalio! Cas. Madam! Mon. Have you purpos'd To abuse me palpably? What means this usage? Why am I left with Polydore alone? Cas. He best can tell you. Business of importance Calls me away: I must attend my father. Mon. Will you then leave me thus? Cas. But for a moment. Mon. It has been otherwise: the time has been, When business might have stay'd, and I been heard. Cas. I could for ever hear thee; but this time Matters of such odd circumstances press me, That I must go.[exit. Mon. Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever. Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business, And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes. Pol. If to desire you, more than misers wealth, Or dying men an hour of added life; If softest wishes, and a heart more true Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd, Speak an ill nature; you accuse me justly. Mon. Talk not of love, my lord, I must not hear it. Pol. Who can behold such beauty, and be silent? Desire first taught us words. Man, when created, At first alone long wander'd up and down Forlorn and silent as his vassal beasts: