Enter Philaster.
Phi. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest Mistress.
Are. Oh, my dearest servant I have a War within me.
Phi. He must be more than man, that makes these Crystals
Run into Rivers; sweetest fair, the cause;
And as I am your slave, tied to your goodness,
Your creature made again from what I was,
And newly spirited, I'le right your honours.
Are. Oh, my best love; that boy!
Phi. What boy?
Are. The pretty boy you gave me.
Phi. What of him?
Are. Must be no more mine.
Phi. Why?