_Chap._ I would hide nothing from you willingly. _Cham._ Nay, then again thou'rt honest. Wouldst thou tell me? _Chap._ Yes, if I durst. _Cham._ Why, what affrights thee? _Chap._ You do, Who are not to be trusted with the secret. _Cham._ Why, I am no fool. _Chap._ So, indeed, you say. _Cham._ Pr'ythee, be serious then. _Chap._ You see I am so, And hardly shall be mad enough to-night To trust you with my ruin. _Cham._ Art thou then So far concerned in't? What has been thy office? Curse on that formal steady villain's face! Just so do all bawds look; nay, bawds, they say, Can pray upon occasion, talk of Heaven, Turn up their goggling eye-balls, rail at vice, Dissemble, lie, and preach like any priest. Art thou a bawd? _Chap._ Sir, I'm not often used thus. _Cham._ Be just then. _Chap._ So I shall be to the trust That's laid upon me. _Cham._ By the reverenced soul Of that great honest man that gave me being, Tell me but what thou know'st concerns my honour, And if I e'er reveal it to thy wrong, May this good sword ne'er do me right in battle! May I ne'er know that blessed peace of mind, That dwells in good and pious men, like thee! _Chap._ I see your temper's moved, and I will trust you. _Cham._ Wilt thou? _Chap._ I will; but if it ever 'scape you-- _Cham._ It never shall. _Chap._ Swear then. _Cham._ I do, by all That's dear to me, by the honour of my name, And by that Power I serve, it never shall. _Chap._ Then this good day, when all the house was busy, When mirth and kind rejoicing filled each room, As I was walking in the grove I met them. _Cham._ What, met them in the grove together? tell me, How? walking, standing, sitting, lying? ha! _Chap._ I, by their own appointment, met them there; Received their marriage-vows, and joined their hands. _Cham._ How! married! _Chap._ Yes, sir. _Cham._ Then my soul's at peace: But why would you delay so long to give it? _Chap._ Not knowing what reception it may find With old Acasto; may be I was too cautious To trust the secret from me. _Cham._ What's the cause I cannot guess: though 'tis my sister's honour, I do not like this marriage, Huddled i' the dark, and done at too much venture: The business looks with an unlucky face. Keep still the secret; for it ne'er shall 'scape me, Not even to them, the new-matched pair. Farewell. Believe my truth, and know me for thy friend. [_Exeunt._ _Re-enter_ CASTALIO _and_ MONIMIA.