_Cas._ Madam, my brother begs he may have leave To tell you something that concerns you nearly. I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw.
_Mon._ Have you purpos'd To abuse me palpably? What means this usage? Why am I left with Polydore alone?
_Cas._ He best can tell you. Business of importance Calls me away: I must attend my father.
_Mon._ It has been otherwise: the time has been, When business might have stay'd, and I been heard.
_Cas._ I could for ever hear thee; but this time Matters of such odd circumstances press me, That I must go. [_exit._
_Mon._ Then go, and, if't be possible, for ever. Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business, And read th' ill-natur'd purpose in your eyes.
_Pol._ If to desire you, more than misers wealth, Or dying men an hour of added life; If softest wishes, and a heart more true Than ever suffer'd yet for love disdain'd, Speak an ill nature; you accuse me justly.
_Mon._ Talk not of love, my lord, I must not hear it.
_Pol._ Who can behold such beauty, and be silent? Desire first taught us words. Man, when created, At first alone long wander'd up and down Forlorn and silent as his vassal beasts: But when a heav'n-born maid, like you, appear'd, Strange pleasures fill'd his eyes and fir'd his heart, Unloos'd his tongue, and his first talk was love.
_Mon._ The first created pair indeed were bless'd; They were the only objects of each other, Therefore he courted her, and her alone; But in this peopled world of beauty, where There's roving room, where you may court, and ruin A thousand more, why need you talk to me?
_Pol._ Oh! I could talk to thee for ever. Thus Eternally admiring, fix, and gaze, On those dear eyes; for every glance they send Darts through my soul.
_Mon._ How can you labour thus for my undoing? I must confess, indeed, I owe you more Than ever I can hope, or think, to pay. There always was a friendship 'twixt our families; And therefore when my tender parents dy'd, Whose ruin'd fortunes too expir'd with them, Your father's pity and his bounty took me, A poor and helpless orphan, to his care.
_Pol._ 'Twas Heav'n ordain'd it so, to make me happy. Hence with this peevish virtue, 'tis a cheat; And those who taught it first were hypocrites. Come, these soft tender limbs were made for yielding.