Phil. Leave that to me, my lord.
Lys. Then, tho' perhaps my sister's birth might challenge
An higher match,
I'll weigh your merits, on the other side,
To make the balance even.
Phil. I go, my lord, this minute.
Lys. My best wishes wait on you. [Exit LYSIMANTES.
Enter the Queen and ASTERIA.
Queen. Yonder he is; have I no other way?
Ast. O madam, you must stand this brunt:
Deny him now, and leave the rest to me:
I'll to Candiope's mother,
And, under the pretence of friendship, work
On her ambition to put off a match
So mean as Philocles.
Queen. You may approach, sir; [To PHIL. We two discourse no secrets.
Phil. I come, madam, to weary out your royal bounty.
Queen. Some suit, I warrant, for your cousin Celadon. Leave his advancement to my care.