Eug. As your own breast, my lord?
Pol. I shall rest thankful to you:
This stranger must be sooth'd, lest he mar all.
Ros. This was well found out, my lord: you now have means to take your enemy.
Pol. Which bless'd occasion I will so pursue,
As childless Euphues shall for ever rue.
Rise in thy blackest look, direst Nemesis,
Assistant to my purpose, help me glut
My thirsty soul with blood! This bold young man
To his rash love shall sacrifice his life.
Ros. What course do you intend to ruin him?
Pol. Why, kill him presently.
Ros. O no, my lord,
You'll rue that action: think not that the law
Will let such murder sleep unpunish'd.
Pol. Should I then let him go, when I have caught him?
Ros. Yes, sir; to catch him faster, and more safely.