use me.
Quit your pretences to her.
You say you've reasons: why are they conceal'd?

_Cas._ To-morrow I may tell you.

_Pol._ Why not now?

_Cas._ It is a matter of such consequence,
As I must well consult ere I reveal.
But pr'ythee cease to think I would abuse thee,
Till more be known.

_Pol._ When you, Castalio, cease
To meet Monimia unknown to me,
And then deny it slavishly, I'll cease
To think Castalio faithless to his friend.
Did I not see you part this very moment?

_Cas._ It seems you've watch'd me, then?

_Pol._ I scorn the office.

_Cas._ Pr'ythee avoid a thing thou may'st repent.

_Pol._ That is, henceforward making league with you.

_Cas._ Nay, if ye're angry, Polydore, good night. [_exit._

_Pol._ Good night, Castalio, if ye're in such haste.
He little thinks I've overheard th' appointment:
But to his chamber's gone to wait awhile,
Then come and take possession of my love.
This is the utmost point of all my hopes;
Or now she must, or never can, be mine.
Oh, for a means now how to counterplot,
And disappoint this happy elder brother
In every thing we do or undertake,
He soars above me, mount what height I can,
And keeps the start he got of me in birth.
Cordelio!

_Re-enter Page._

_Page._ My lord!

_Pol._ Come hither, boy!
Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face,
And may'st in time expect preferment. Canst thou
Pretend to secresy, cajole and flatter
Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures?

_Page._ My lord, I could do any thing for you,
And ever be a very faithful boy.
Command, whate'er's your pleasure I'll observe;
Be it to run, or watch, or to convey
A letter to a beauteous lady's bosom:
At least, I am not dull, and soon should learn.

_Pol._ 'Tis pity then thou shouldst not be employ'd.
Go to my brother, he's in his chamber now,
Undressing, and preparing for his rest;
Find out some means to keep him up awhile:
Tell him a pretty story, that may please
His ear; invent a tale, no matter what:
If he should ask of me, tell him I'm gone
To bed, and sent you there to know his pleasure,
Whether he'll hunt to-morrow.
But do not leave him till he's in his bed;
Or, if he chance to walk again this way,
Follow, and do not quit him, but seem fond
To do him little offices of service.
Perhaps at last it may offend him; then
Retire, and wait till I come in. Away!
Succeed in this, and be employ'd again.

_Page._ Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind
To me; would ofte