Roselo. Nay, lady, 'tis heaven by thy side;
But if I be uncourteous—
Julia. No discourtesy can rest with one
Who pleading finds such gentle words as thine.
(Aside to Roselo.) He on my right I hope grows weary,
And mayhap will leave us.
(To Otavio.) Sit closer to my side.
Otavio. Ever when I nearer come—why then
Thou turn'st thy face away again.
Julia. You soon turn choleric, uncourteous coz,
But I would speak in serious mood.
Otavio. Ah, then indeed I am repaid,
The anger which I felt is gone, sweet maid.
Julia gives her hand to Roselo, but turns her face to Otavio—Roselo understanding that her conversation is addressed to him.
Roselo. Oh! sweet, soft hand, to clasp so close in mine.
Julia. I hope to please thee, gentle coz,
And yet I fear my boldness doth do more
Than much outstep all maiden modesty.
I can show thee no greater favour than
To say thou hast my most enduring love.
Roselo. He who is primed to drink a toast
To Love, needs little invitation to the deed.
Julia. He who doth turn a shoulder to the foe
Surrenders at discretion.
Otavio. Yet when thou turned'st from me
And left mine enemy to gaze upon thy face,
Think'st thou 'twas strange to doubt?
