Cel. Never, Upon this hand I'le seal that faith.
Dem. We may kiss, Put not those out o'th' peace too.
Cel. Those I'le give ye,
So there you will be pleas'd to pitch your ne ultra,
I will be merry with ye; sing, discourse with ye,
Be your poor Mistris still: in truth I love ye.
Enter Leontius, Antigonus, Seleucus, Lysimachus, Ptolomie, Lieutenant, and Gentleman.
Dem. Stay, who are these?
Lys. A very handsom Lady.
Leo. As e're you saw.
Sel. Pity her heart's so cruel.
Lys. How does your Grace? he stands still, will not hear us.
Ptol. We come to serve ye, Sir, in all our fortunes.