yes but speak,
I should know all, for love is pregnant in 'em;
They swell, they press their beams upon me still:
Wilt thou not speak? If we must part for ever,
Give me but one kind word to think upon,
And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking.

_Mon._ Ah! poor Castalio! [_exit._

_Cas._ What means all this? Why all this stir to plague
A single wretch? If but your word can shake
This world to atoms, why so much ado
With me? think me but dead, and lay me so.

_Enter Polydore._

_Pol._ To live, and live a torment to myself,
What dog would bear't, that knew but his condition?
We've little knowledge, and that makes us cowards,
Because it cannot tell us what's to come.

_Cas._ Who's there?

_Pol._ Why, what art thou?

_Cas._ My brother Polydore?

_Pol._ My name is Polydore.

_Cas._ Canst thou inform me----

_Pol._ Of what?

_Cas._ Of my Monimia?

_Pol._ No. Good day!

_Cas._ In haste!
Methinks my Polydore appears in sadness.

_Pol._ Indeed! and so to me does my Castalio.

_Cas._ Do I?

_Pol._ Thou dost.

_Cas._ Alas, I've wondrous reason!
I'm strangely alter'd, brother, since I saw thee.

_Pol._ Why?

_Cas._ I'll tell thee, Polydore; I would repose
Within thy friendly bosom all my follies;
For thou wilt pardon 'em, because they're mine.

_Pol._ Be not too credulous; consider first,
Friends may be false. Is there no friendship false?

_Cas._ Why dost thou ask me that? Does this appear
Like a false friendship, when, with open arms
And streaming eyes, I run upon thy breast?
Oh! 'tis in thee alone I must have comfort!

_Pol._ I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.

_Cas._ Dost thou not love me then?

_Pol._ Oh, more than life;
I never had a thought of my Castalio,
Might wrong the friendship we had vow'd together.
Hast thou dealt so by me?

_Cas._ I hope I have.

_Pol._ Then tell me why, this morning, this disorder?

_Cas._ O Polydore, I know not how to tell thee;
Shame rises in my face, and interrupts
The story of my tongue.

_Pol._ I grieve, my friend
Knows any thing which he's asham'd to tell me.

_Cas._ Oh, much too oft. Our destiny contriv'd
To plague us both with one unhappy love!
Thou, like a friend, a constant, gen'rous friend,
In its first pangs didst trust me with thy passion,
Whilst I still smooth'd my pain with smiles before thee,
And made a contract I ne'er meant to keep.

_Pol._ How!

_Cas._ Still new ways I studied to abuse thee,
And ke