_Cel_. Pray, madam, which of these four things would you have your lover to do? For a man's but a man; he cannot hang, and drown, and break his neck, and poison himself, all together. _Flo_. Well, then, because you are but a beginner, and I would not discourage you, any of these shall serve your turn, in a fair way. _Cel_. I am much deceiv'd in those eyes of yours, if a treat, a song, and the fiddles, be not a more acceptable proof of love to you, than any of those tragical ones you have mentioned. _Flo_. However, you will grant it is but decent you should be pale, and lean, and melancholick, to shew you are in love: And that I shall require of you when I see you next. _Cel_. When you see me next? Why you do not make a rabbit of me, to be lean at twenty-four hours warning? in the mean while, we burn day-light, lose time and love. _Flo_. Would you marry me without consideration? _Cel_. To chuse, by heaven; for they that think on't, twenty to one would never do it. Hang forecast! to make sure of one good night is as much in reason, as a man should expect from this ill world. _Flo_. Methinks, a few more years and discretion would do well: I do not like this going to bed so early; it makes one so weary before morning. _Cel_. That's much as your pillow is laid, before you go to sleep. _Flo_. Shall I make a proposition to you? I will give you a whole year of probation to love me in; to grow reserved, discreet, sober, and faithful, and to pay me all the services of a lover-- _Cel_. And at the end of it, you'll marry me? _Flo_. If neither of us alter our minds before. _Cel_. By this light a necessary clause. But if I pay in all the foresaid services before the day, you shall be obliged to take me sooner into mercy. _Flo_. Provided, if you prove unfaithful, then your time of a twelve-month to be prolonged; so many services, I will bate you so many days or weeks; so many faults, I will add to your 'prenticeship so much more: And of all this, I only to be judge. _Enter_ PHILOCLES _and_ LYSIMANTES. _Lys_. Is the queen this way, madam? _Flo_. I'll see, so please your highness: Follow me, captive. _Cel_. March on, conqueror--[_She pulls him_. [_Exeunt_ CEL. FLO. _Lys_. You're sure her majesty will not oppose it? _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.