Page. My lord.
Pol. Come hither, boy.
Thou hast a pretty, forward, lying face,
And mayst in time expect preferment; canst thou
Pretend to secrecy, cajole and flatter
Thy master's follies, and assist his pleasures?
Page. My lord, I could do anything 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 employed.
Go to my brother; he's in's 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.—Well said, Polydore;
Dissemble with thy brother.—That's one point;
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 employed again.
Page. Doubt not, my lord: he has been always kind
To me; would often set me on his knees;
Then give me sweetmeats, call me pretty boy,
And ask me what the maids talked of at nights.
Pol. Run quickly then, and prosperous be thy wishes! [Exit Page.
Here I'm alone, and fit for mischief; now
To cheat this brother, will't be honest that?
I heard the sign she ordered him to give.
O for the art of Proteus, but to change
The happy Polydore to blest Castalio!
She's not so well acquainted with him yet,
But I may fit her arms as well as he.
Then when I'm happily possessed of more
Than sense can think, all loosened into joy,
To hear my disappointed brother come,
And give the unregarded signal—oh,
What a malicious pleasure will that be!
"Just three soft strokes against the chamber-door:
But speak not the least word; for if you should,
'Tis surely heard, and we are both betrayed."
How I adore a mistress that contrives
With care to lay the business of her joys!
One that has wit to charm the very soul,
And give a double relish to delight!
Blest Heaven, assist me but in this dear hour,
And my kind stars be but propitious now,
Dispose of me hereafter as you please!
Monimia! Monimia! [Gives the sign.
Flor. [At the window.] Who's there?
Pol. 'Tis I.
Flor. My Lord Castalio?
Pol. The same.
How does my love, my dear Monimia?