Pol. Be not too credulous; consider first,

Cas. Why dost thou ask me that? Does this appear

Pol. I fear, Castalio, I have none to give thee.

Cas. Dost thou not love me then?

Pol. Oh, more than life;

Cas. I hope I have.

Pol. Then tell me why, this morning, this disorder?

Cas. O Polydore, I know not how to tell thee;

Pol. I grieve, my friend

Cas. Oh, much too oft. Our destiny contriv'd

Pol. How!

Cas. Still new ways I studied to abuse thee,

Pol. Ah! Castalio, was that well done?

Cas. No; to conceal't from thee was much a fault.

Pol. A fault! when thou hast heard

Cas. How my heart throbs!

Pol. First, for thy friendship, traitor,

Cas. What will my fate do with me?

Pol. Perjur'd, treach'rous wretch,

Cas. I'll be thy slave, and thou shalt use me

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