_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 for 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. _Page._ With all the tenderness of love. You were the subject of their last discourse: At first I thought it would have fatal proved; But, as the one grew hot, the other cooled, And yielded to the frailty of his friend; At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolved-- _Mon._ What, good Cordelio? _Page._ Not to quarrel for you. _Mon._ I would not have them; by my dearest hopes, I would not be the argument of strife. But surely my Castalio won't forsake me, And make a mockery of my easy love? Went they together? _Page._ Yes, to seek you, madam. Castalio promised 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 heightened the debate? _Page._ The fault was Polydore's. Castalio played with love, and smiling showed The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire. He said no woman's smiles should buy his freedom, And marriage is a mortifying thing. _Mon._ Then I am ruined! 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! Oh, but I love him! there's the rock will wreck me Why was I made with all my sex's softness, 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, the conqueror comes! lie still, my heart, And learn to bear thy injuries with scorn. _Cast._ 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! _Cast._ Madam! _Mon._ Have you purposed To abuse me palpably? what means this usage? Why am I left with Polydore alone? _Cast._ He best can tell you. Business of importance Calls me away; I must attend my father. _Mon._ Will you then leave me thus? _Cast._ But for a moment. _Mon._ It has been otherwise; the time has been, When business might have stayed, and I been heard.