Ptol. And even from all that strength we'l catch at victory.
Sel. O had I now recover'd but the fortune I lost in Antioch, when mine Unckle perish'd; But that were but to surfeit me with blessings.
Lys. You lost a sweet child there.
Sel. Name it no more Sir;
This is no time to entertain such sorrows;
Will your Majesty do us the honour, we may see the Prince,
And wait upon him?
Enter Leon.
Ant. I wonder he stayes from us: How now Leontius, where's my son?
Sel. Brave Captain.
Lys. Old valiant Sir.
Leo. Your Graces are welcom:
Your son and't please you Sir, is new cashiered yonder,
Cast from his Mistris favour: and such a coil there is;
Such fending, and such proving; she stands off,
And will by no means yield to composition:
He offers any price; his body to her.
Sel. She is a hard Lady, denies that caution.