Leu. 'Tis your noble thought
Makes good what's wanting here; but, gentle friend—
For so I now dare call you.
Pol. 'Tis well, minion; you are bold enough, I see,
To choose your friends without my leave.
[Aside.
Phil. 'Tis my ambition ever to be yours.
Leu. Think me not light, dear Philocles, so soon
To grant thee love, that others might have sought
With eagerest pursuit, and not obtain'd.
But I was yours by fate, and long have been:
Before you woo'd, Leucothoë was won,
And yours without resistance.
Phil. O my stars!
'Twas your kind influence that, whilst I slept
In dullest ignorance, contriv'd for me
The way to crown me with felicity.
Pol. You may be deceived, though; you have no such great reason to thank your stars, if you knew all.
[Aside.
Phil. And know, fair mistress, you have met a love,
That time, nor fate, nor death can ever change;
A man that but in you can have no being.
Let this kiss seal my faith.
Leu. And this mine.
Pol. Nay, to't again; your sweet meat shall have sour sauce.
Phil. But, sweet, 'mongst all these roses there's one thorn
That pricks and galls me; our parents' enmity
Will cross our loves. I do assure myself
Thy father never will give his consent.