[_Exit._ _Poly._ The little serpent! Her tears, her imploring looks, had well nigh—But I must be firm: I see the danger, and must protect my pupil against the snares of these pernicious creatures. Poor lad! he is innocent, and knows not the seductive power of love. My example and instructions have so fortified his mind, so hardened his heart against all silly, soft impressions, that, thanks to me, he may hope to pass through life as becomes a philosopher—in a happy indifference to all its joys, its pleasures, and its cares. He comes!—My dear disciple! _Enter_ CHARLES, _in violent agitation_. _Charles._ My dear sir, I’m glad you are returned. _Poly._ Your impatience pleases me. Come, is it to be Sophocles this evening? _Charles._ No:—it is not that, sir,—but— _Poly._ Well, well; we must sometimes relax,—make holiday; so, instead of Sophocles, we’ll amuse ourselves with a problem in Euclid. _Charles._ Confound Euclid! as he has often confounded me. No, sir; I—in short, you see me in the greatest distress. _Poly._ In distress! You alarm me! My dear boy, my dear child, what is the matter? _Charles._ My father is returning; he is now galloping up the avenue, and I see no refuge from my difficulties but in death. _Poly._ Mercy on me! what do you mean? No refuge but in—and in his father’s absence too! Consider, that for all that concerns you, I am responsible. Wait, at least, till he arrives, and— _Charles._ No, I am resolved; the matter is pressing, and there’s no time for deliberation. _Poly._ And he has not half finished his studies! (_Rushes into his arms_) Charles—my dear boy—be composed—look at me—who am I? have I not been your guide, your protector, your friend, since the hour you were born. You know I love you; that there is nothing on earth I would not do to see you happy; tell me, then, what it is afflicts you. _Charles._ You will betray me to my father, and I dread his displeasure worse than death. _Poly._ Betray you! Never; be it what it may. _Charles._ Swear! _Poly._ I never swear. _Charles._ Swear, or this instant will I— _Poly._ Hold! your danger inspires me with the devotion of an antique Roman: I swear, (_raising his hand_) _Per Jovem!_ By Jupiter! I swear. _Charles._ Enough! I will trust you. (_Aside_) And yet I dare not tell him the whole.—I—I am in love. _Poly._ O, horror! In love! ’Tis epidemic—’tis running through the house! Robin, Molly, and now—How, sir! and at your age, only just turned of four-and-twenty; the thing is incredible, and— _Charles._ Do but hear me, sir. _Poly._ In love! it cannot be: why, he has Greek, Latin, algebra, and mathematics at his finger’s ends. And is this the termination of my hopes? You, whom I destined for a philosopher; you, whose name I fondly hoped to see placed side by side with the glorious names of Archimedes and Aristotle! Did love find out the square of the hypothenuse? Did love—