Phil. Mock me not, fortune!
She kiss'd it; saw'st thou her? O friend, she kiss'd it!
Cler. And with a look that relish'd love, not scorn.
Leu. This letter may be forg'd, I much desire
To know the certainty; Psectas, thy help
Must further me.
Psec. I'll not be wanting.
Leu. Here comes my father; he must not see this.
Psec. No, nor your t'other sweetheart, he is with him yonder.
Enter Polymetes, Virro, Roscio.
Pol. Nay, noble count, you are too old a soldier
To take a maid's first no for a denial;
They will be nice at first: men must pursue
That will obtain: woo her, my lord, and take her;
You have my free consent, if you get hers.
Yonder she walks alone: go comfort her.
Vir. I'll do the best I may, but we old men
Are but cold comfort: I thank your lordship's love.
Pol. I wonder, Roscio, that the peevish girl
Comes on so slowly; no persuasions
That I can use do move: the setting forth
Count Virro's greatness, wealth, and dignity,
Seems not to affect her, Roscio.