Mon. O men, for flattery and deceit renowned!
Thus when you're young ye learn it all like him,
Till, as your years increase, that strengthens too,
To undo poor maids, and make our ruin easy.
Tell me, Cordelio, for thou oft hast heard
Their friendly converse and their bosom-secrets;
Sometimes, at least, have they not talked of me?
Page. O madam! very wickedly they've talked:
But I'm afraid to name it; for they say
Boys must be whipped that tell their master's secrets.
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.