SIR GYLES Goosecap Knight. A Comedy presented by the Ihill: of the Chapel.  
 
AT LONDON. Printed by john Windet for Edward Blunt. 1606.   


Eugenia, A widow, and a Noble Lady.  
Hyppolita, Lady-virgins, and Companions to Eugenia.  
Penelope, Lady-virgins, and Companions to Eugenia  
Winifrid, gentlewoman to Eugenia.  
Momford, A Noble Man, uncle to Eugenia.  
Clarence, Gentleman, friend to Monf  
Fowlewether, a french affected Traveller, & a Captain.  
Sir Giles Goosecap: a foolish knight.  
Sir Cuthbert rudesby, a blunt knight.  
Sir Clement kingcob, a knight.  
Lord Tales.  
Lord Furnifall.  
Bullaker, a french Page.  
Jack' Pages  
Will' Pages    
SIR GYLES Goosecap, KNIGHT.  

ACTVS PRIMVS,  

SCAeNA PRIMA  Enter Bullaker with a Torch. Bullaker. 
THis is the Countess Eugenia's house I think, I can never hit of these same English City houses, though I were borne here: if I were in any City in France, I could find any house there at midnight.  Enter Jack, and Will. jack. 
These two strange hungry knights (Will) make the leanest trenchers that ever I waited on.  Will. 
A plague on them jack, they leave us no fees at all, for our attendance, I think they use to set their bones in silver they pick them so clean, see, see, see jack what's that?  jack 
A my word (Will) 'tis the great Baboon, that was to be seen in Southwark.  Will 
Is this he? gods my life what beasts were we, that we wood not see him all this while, never trust me if he look not somewhat like a man, see how prettily he holds the torch in one of his forefeet, where's his keeper trow owe, is he broke loose?  jack 
Hast ever an Apple about thee (Will) we'll take him up sure, we shall get a monstrous deal of money with him.  Wil. 
That we shall yfath boy, and look thou here, here's a red cheeked apple to take him up with.  Ia. 
Excellent fit o' my credit, let's lay down our provant, and to him.  Bul. 
I'll let them alone a while.  Ia. 
Give me the apple to take up Jack, because my name is Jack.  Wil 
Hold thee Jack, take it.  Ia. 
Come Jack, come Jack, come Jack.  Bul. 
I will come to your Sir, I'll jack ye a my word, I'll jack ye.  Will 
God's me he speaks Jack, O pray pardon us Sir.  Bul. 
Out ye mopede monkeys can ye not know a man from a marmoset, in these Frenchified days of ours? nay I'll jackefie you a little better yet.  both, 
Nay good Sir, good Sir, pardon us.  Bul 
Pardon us, out ye homebred peasants, plain english, pardon us, if you had parled, & not spoken, but said pardonne moy; I wood have pardoned you, but since you speak, and not parley, I will cudgel ye better yet.  Ambo 
O pardonne moy monsieur.  Bul. 
Bièn je vous remercy, there's pardon pour vous Sir now.  Will 
Why I thank ye for it Sir, you seem to be a Squire of our order Sir.  Ia. 
Whose page might you be Sir.  Bul. 
I am now the great French traveler's page.  Will 
Or rather the french traveler's great page. Sir, on, on  Bul. 
height Captain Foulweather, alias Commendations; whose valours within here at supper with the countess Eugenia, whose proper eaters I take you two to be.  Will 
You mistake us not Sir.  Ia. 
This captain Foulweather, alias Commendations (Will) is the gallant that will needs be a suitor to our Countess  Will 
Faith and if Foulweather be a welcome suitor to a fair Lady, has good luck.  Ia. 
O Sir, beware of one that can shower into the laps of Ladies, Captain Foulweather? why he's a Captinado, or Captain of Captains, and will lie in their joints that give him cause to work upon them so heavily, that he will make their hearts ache I warrant him; Captain Foulweather? why he will make the cold stones sweat for fear of him, a day or two before he come at them. Captain Foulweather? why he does so domineer, and reign over women.  Will 
A plague of Captain Foulweather I remember him now Jack, and know him to be a dull moist brained Ass.  Ia. 
A Southern man I think.  Will 
As fearful as a Hare, & 'a will lie like a Lapwing, & I know how he came to be a Captain, & to have his Surname of Commendations.  Ia. 
How I prithee Will?  Will 
Why Sir he served the great Lady Kingcob, and was yeoman of her wardrobe, & because 'a could brush up her silks lustily, she thought he would curry the enemy's coats as soundly, and so by her commendations, he was made Captain in the low Countries.  Ia. 
Then being made Captain only by his lady's commendations, without any worth also of his own, he was ever after surnamed Captain Commendations?  Will 
Right.  Bul. 
Ay Sir right, but if he had not said right, my Captain should have taken no wrong at his hands, nor yours neither I can tell ye.  Ia. 
What are those two Knights names, that are thy captains Comrades, and within at supper with our Lady?  Bul. 
One of their names Sir, is, Sir Gyles Goosecap, the others Sir Cut. Rudseby.  Will 
Sir Gyles Goosecap what's he a gentleman?  Bul. 
I that he is at least if he be not a noble man, and his chief house is in Essex.  Ia. 
In Essex? did not his Ancestors come out of London  Bul. 
Yes that they did Sir, the best goosecaps in England, comes out of London I assure you.  Will 
ay but Sir these must come into it before they come out on't I hope, but what countryman is Sir cut. Rudeby?  Bul. 
A Northern man, or a Westernman I take him, but my Captain is the Emphatical man; and by that pretty word Emphatical you shall partly know him; for 'tis a very forcible word in troth, & yet he forces it too much by his favour; mary no more than he does all the rest of his words; with whose multiplicity often times he travails himself out of all good company.  jack 
Like enough; he travailed for nothing else.  Wil 
But what qualities haunt Sir Gyles Goosecap now Sir?  Bul. 
Sir Gyles Goosecap has always a deaths head (as it were) in his mouth, for his only one reason for every thing is, because we are all mortal; and therefore he is generally called the mortal knight; then hath he another pretty phrase too, and that is, he will tickle the vanity an't still in every thing and this is your Summa totalis of both their virtues.  Ia. 
'tis enough, 'tis enough, as long as they have land enough, but now muster your third person afore us I beseech you,  Bul. 
The third person and second knight blunt Sir Cut. Rudesby, is indeed blunt at a sharp wit, and sharp at a blunt wit a good bustling gallant talks well at Rovers; he is two parts soldier; as slovenly as a Swisser, and somewhat like one in face too; for he wears a bush beard will dead a Cannon shot better than a woolpack: he will come into the presence like your Frenchman in foul boots: and dares eat garlic as a preparative to his Courtship; you shall know more of him hereafter; but good wags let me win you now, for the Geographical parts of your Ladies in requital.  Will 
That you shall Sir, and the Hydrographical too and you will; first my Lady the widow, and Countess Eugenia, is in earnest, a most worthy Lady, and indeed can do more than a thousand other Ladies can do I can tell ye.  Bul 
What's that I pray thee?  jack. 
Mary Sir, he means she can do more than sleep, and eat and drink; and play at noddy, and help to make herself ready.  Bul 
Can she so?  Will 
She is the best scholar of any woman but one in England, she is wise and virtuous,  Ia. 
Nay she has one strange quality for a woman beside, though these be strange enough that he has reckoned.  Bul. 
For God's sake what's that?  Ia. 
She can love reasonable constantly, for she loved her husband only, almost a whole year together.  Bul. 
That's strange indeed, but what is your fair Lady Sir?  Ia. 
My Lady Sir, the Lady Hippolita.  Will 
That is as chaste as ever was Hippolytus.  Ia. 
(True my pretty Parenthesis) is half a maid, half a wife, and half a widow.  Bul. 
Strange tale to tell; how canst thou make this good my good Assumpsit.  Ia. 
Thus Sir, she was betrothed to a gallant young gentleman that loud her with such passion and admiration that he never thought he could be so blessed as to enjoy her in full marriage, till the minister was marrying them, and even then when he was saying I Charles take thee Hippolita; with extreme joy he began to look pale, then going forwards saying to my wedded wife, he looked paler, and, then pronouncing, for richer for poorer as long as we both shall live, he looked extreme pale; Now sir when she comes to speak her part, and said, I Hippolyta take thee Charles, he began to faint for joy, then saying to my wedded husband, he began to sink, but then going forth too for better for worse, he could stand no longer but with very conceit it seemed, that she whom he tendered as the best of all things, should pronounce the worst, and for his sake too, he sunk down right, and died suddenly: And thus being half married, & her half husband wholly dead, I hope I may with discretion affirm her, half a maid, half a wife, and half a widow; do ye conceive me Sir?  Bul. 
O Lord Sir, I devour you quick; and now Sir I beseech you open unto me your other Lady, what is she?  Will 
I'll answer for her, because I know her Ladyship to be a perfect maid indeed.  Bul 
How canst thou know that?  Will 
Passing perfectly I warrant ye.  Ia. 
By measuring her neck twice, and trying if it will come about her forehead, and slip over her nose?  Will 
No Sir no, by a rule that will not slip so I warrant you, which for her honour's sake I will let slip unto you, gods so jack, I think they have supped.  Ja. 
by'r Lady we have waited well the while.  Will 
Well though they have lost their attendance, let not us lose our Suppers jack.  jack 
I do not mean it, come Sir you shall go in and drink with us i'faith.  Bul. 
Pardonne moy monsieur.  both 
No pardoning in truth Sir,  Bul 
je vous remercy de-bon Ceur.  Exeunt. Enter Goosecap Rudesby Fouleweather Eugenia Hippol. Penelope, Wynne. Rud. 
A plague on you sweet Ladies, 'tis not so late, what needed you to have made so short a supper.  Goos. 
In truth Sir cut. we might have tickled the vanity an't, an hour longer if my watch be trustable.  Foul. 
ay but how should these beauties know that Sir Gyles? your watch is mortal, and may err.  Go. 
That's sooth Captain, but do you hear honest friend, pray take a light, and see if the moon shine, I have a Sun dial will resolve presently.  Fo. 
Howsoever believe it Ladies, 'tis unwholesome, uncourtly, unpleasant to eat hastily, & rise suddenly, a man can show no discourse, no wit, no stirring, no variety, no pretty conceits, to make the meat go down emphatically?  Eu. 
Winifrid.  Win. 
Madam.  Eu. 
I prithee go to my uncle the Lord Momford, and entreat him to come quicken our ears with some of his pleasant Spirit; This same Fowleweather has made me so melancholy, prithee make haste.  Win. 
I will madam.  Exit. Hip. 
We will bid our guests good night madam, this same Foulweather makes me so sleepy.  Pen. 
Fie upon it, for God's sake shut the Casements, here's such a fulsome air comes into this chamber; in good faith madame you must keep your house in better reparations, this same Foulweather beats in so filthily.  Eug. 
I'll take order with the Porter for it Lady, good night gentlemen.  Ru. 
Why good night & be hanged, & you'll needs be gone.  Goos. 
God give you good night madams, thank you for my good cheer, we'll tickle the vanity an't, no longer with you at this time, but I'll indite your La: to supper at my lodging one of these mornings; and that ere long too, because we are all mortal you know.  Eu. 
Light the Lady Penelope, and the Lady Hippolita to their chambers, good night fair Ladies.  Hip. 
Good night madam, I wish you may sleep well after your light supper.  Eug. 
I warrant you Lady I shall never be troubled with dreaming of my French Suitor.  Exeunt Ru. 
Why how now my Frenchified captain Foulweather? by God's ludd thy Surname is never thought upon here, I perceive here's nobody gives thee any commendations.  Fo. 
Why this is the untraveled rudeness of our gross English Ladies now; would any French Lady use a man thus think ye? be they any way so uncivil, and fulsome? they say they wear foul smocks, and course smocks, I say they lie, and I will die in't.  Rud. 
ay, do so, pray thee, thou shalt die in a very honourable cause, thy countries general quarrel right.  Foul. 
Their smocks quoth you? a my word you shall take them up so white, and so pure, so sweet, so Emphatical, so moving.  Rud. 
I marry Sir, I think they be continually moving.  Foul. 
But if their smocks were Course or foul.  Rud. 
Nay I warrant thee thou carest not, so thou were: at them.  Foul 
'Sdeath they put not all their virtues in their smocks, or in their mocks, or in their stew de cocks as our Ladies do.  Rud. 
But in their stewed pox, there's all their gentility.  Goos. 
Nay good Sir cut. do not aggravate him no more.  Fowl. 
Then are they so kind, so wise, so familiar so noble, so sweet in entertainment, that when you shall, have cause to discourse or sometimes to come nearer! them; if your breath be ill, your teeth ill, or any thing about you ill why they will presently break with ye, in kind sort, good terms, pretty experiments, and tell you plain this; thus it is with your breath Sir, thus it is with your teeth Sir, this is your disease, and this is your medicine.  Goos. 
As I am true mortal Knight, it is most superlatively good, this.  Foul. 
Why this is Courtly now, this is sweet, this plain, this is familiar, but by the Court of France, our peevish dames are so proud, so precise, so coy, so disdainful, and so subtle, as the Pomonean Serpent, mort dieu the Punk of Babylon was never so subtle.  Rud. 
Nay do not chafe so Captain.  Foul. 
Your Frenchman wood ever chase Sir cut, being thus moved.  Rud. 
What? and play with his beard so.  Foul. 
I and bristle, it doth express that passion of anger very full and emphatical.  Goos. 
Nay good knight if your French wood bristle, let him alone, in troth our Ladies are a little too coy and subtle Captain indeed.  Foul. 
Subtle Sir Giles Goosecap? I assure your Soul, they are as subtle with their suitors, or loves, as the Latin Dialect where the nominative Case, and the verb, the Substantive, and the Adjective, the verb, and the verb, stand as far asunder, as if they were perfect strangers one to another; and you shall hardly find them out, but then learn to Construe, and pierce them, and you shall find them prepared, and acquainted, & agree together, in Case, gender, and number.  Goos. 
I detest Sir cut, I did not think he had been half the quintessence of a he is.  Foul. 
'slid there's not one of them truly emphatical.  Goos. 
Yes I'll ensure you Captain, there are many of them truly Emphatical but all your French Ladies are not fat? are they Sir?  Foul. 
Fat Sir, why do ye think Emphatical is fat Sir Giles?  Rud. 
God's my life brother knight, didst thou think so? heart I know not what it is myself, but yet I never thought it was fat, I'll be sworn to thee.  Foul. 
Why if any true Courtly dame had had but this new fashioned suit, to entertain any thing in differently stuffed, why you should have had her more respective by far.  Rud. 
Nay there's some reason for that Captain, methinks a true woman should perpetually dote upon a new fashion.  Foul. 
Why you're i'th' right Sir cut. Innova fert Animus mutatas dicere-formas. 'tis the mind of man, and woman to affect new fashions; but to our Mynsatives for sooth, if he come like to your Besognio, or your boar, so he be rich, or emphatical, they care not; would I might never excel a dutch Skipper in Courtship if I did not put distaste into my carriage of purpose; I knew I should not please them. lackey? alum le torch.  Rud. 
'slid, here's neither Torch, nor lackey methinks.  Foul. 
O mon dew.  Rud. 
O do not swear Captain.  Foul. 
Your Frenchman ever swears Sir cut, upon the lack of his lackey I assure you.  Goos. 
See here he comes, and my lady's two pages, they have been tickling the vanity on't i'faith.   

SCAeNA TERTIA.  Enter to them jack Bullaker, Will. La. 
Captain Foulweather, my Lady the Countess Eugenia commends her most kindly to you, and is determined to morrow morning early if it be a frost to take her Coach to Barnet to be nipped where if it please you, to meet her, and accompany her homeward, joining your wit with the frost, and help to nip her, She does not doubt but though you had a sad supper, you will have a joyful breakfast.  Foul. 
I shall indeed my dear youth.  Rud. 
Why Captain I abused thee, I see: I said the Ladies respected thee not, and now I perceive the widow is in love with thee.  Foul. 
'sblood knight I knew I had struck her to the quick, I wondered she departed in that extravagant fashion: I am sure I passed one Passado of Courtship upon her, that has heretofore made a lane amongst the French Ladies like a culvering shot, I'll be sworn; and I think Sir Gyles you saw how she fell under it.  Goos. 
O as clear as candlelight, by this daylight.  Rud. 
O good knight o' the post, he'll swear any thing.  Will 
The other two Ladies commend them no less kindly to you two knights too; & desire your worship's wood meet them at Barnet i'th' morning with the Captain.  Foul. Goos. Rud. 
O. good Sir.  Goos. 
Our worships shall attend their Ladyships thither.  Ia. 
No Sir Giles by no means, they will go privately thither, but if you will meet them there.  Rud. 
Meet them, we'll die for't, but we'll meet them.  Foul. 
Let's go thither tonight knights, and you be true gallants.  Rud. 
Content.  Ja. 
How greedily they take it in Sirrah.  Goos. 
No it is too far to go tonight, we'll be up betimes i'th' morning, and not go to bed at all.  Foul. 
Why it's but ten miles, & a fine clear nightS. Gyles  Goos. 
But ten miles? what do ye talk Captain?  Rud. 
Why dost think its any more?  Goos. 
ay, I'll ten pounds it's more than ten mile, or twelve either.  Rud. 
What to Barnet?  Gous. 
ay, to Barnet?  Ru. 
'Slid, I'll lay a hundred pound with thee, if thou wilt.  Goos. 
I'll lay five hundred, to a hundred, Slight I will not be out borne with a wager, in that I know, I am sure it was four years agon ten miles thither, and I hope 'tis more now, 'slid do not miles grow think you, as well as other Animals.  Ia. 
O wise Knight!  Gos. 
I never Innd in the Town but once, and then they lodged me in a Chamber so full of these Ridiculus Fleas, that I was feign to lie standing all night, and yet I made my man rise, and put out the candle too, because they should not see to bire me.  Foul. 
A pretty project.  Bul. 
Intruth Captain if I might advise you, you should tarry, and take the morning afore you.  Foul. 
How? O mon Diew, how the villain poltroon, dishonours his travail? you Buffonly mushroom, are you so mere rude, and English to advise your Captain?  Ru. 
Nay I prithee Foulweather be not tempestuous with thy poor lackey.  Foul. 
Tempestuous Sir cut, will your Frenchman think you, suffer his lackey to advise him?  Go. 
O God you must take heed Lackey how you advise your captain, your French lackey would not have done it.  Foul. 
He would have been poxed first: alum le torch, sweet pages commend us to your Ladies, say we kiss their white hands, and will not fail to meet them: knights which of you leads?  Goos. 
Not we Sir, you are a Captain, and a leader.  Rud. 
Besides, thou art commended for the better man, for thou art very Commendations itself, and Captain Commendations.  Foul. 
Why, what though I be Captain Commendations?  Rud. 
Why and Captain commendations, is hearty? commendations, for Captains are hearty I am sure, or else hang them,  Foul. 
Why, what if I be hearty Commendations, come, come, sweet knights lead the way.  Rud. 
O Lord Sir, always after my hearty Commendations.  Foul. 
Nay then you conquer me with precedent, by the Authentical form of all justice letters. Alloun.  Exeunt. Ia. 
Here's a most sweet Gudgeon swallowed, is there not?  Will 
ay but how will they digest it thinkest thou? when they shall find our Ladies not there?  Ia. 
I have a vaunt-currying devise shall make them digest it most healthfully.  Exeunt.  

SCAeNA QVARTA.  Enter Clarence Musicians. Cla. 

Work on sweet love, I am not yet resolved  
T'exhaust this troubled spring of vanities  
And nurse of perturbations, my poor life,  
And therefore since in every man that holds  
This being dear, there must be some desire  
Whose power to enjoy his object may so mask  
The judging part that in her radiant eyes  
His estimation of the world may seem  
Upright, and worthy, I have chosen love  
To blind my Reason with his misty hands  
And make my estimative power believe  
I have a project worthy to employ  
What worth soever my whole man affords:  
Then sit at rest my Soul, thou now hast found  
The end of thy infusion, in the eyes  
Of thy divine Eugenia look for heaven.   Cla. 
Thanks gentle friends is your good Lord and mine, gone up to bed yet?  A song to the viols Enter Momford. Mom. 
I do assure ye not Sir, not yet, nor yet, my deep, and studious friend, not yet musical Clarence.  Cla. 
My Lord?  Mom, 
Nor yet, thou sole divider of my Lordship.  Cla. 

That were a most unfit division  
And far above the pitch of my low plumes  
I am your bold and constant guest my Lord.   Mom. 

Far, far from bold, for thou hast known me long  
Almost these twenty years, and half those years  
Hast been my bedfellow; long time before  
This unseen thing, this thing of nought indeed  
Or Atom called, my Lordship shined in me,  
And yet thou mak'st thy self as little bold  
To take such kindness, as becomes the Age  
And truth of our indissoluble love  
As our acquaintance sprung but yesterday  
Such is thy gentle and too tender Spirit.   Cla. 

My Lord, my want of Courtship makes me fear  
I should be rude, and this my mean estate  
meets with such envy, and detraction  
Such misconstructions, and resolved misdooms  
Of my poor worth, that should I be advanced  
Beyond my unseen lownesses, but one hair  
I should be torn in pieces with the Spirits  
That fly in ill-lunged tempests through the world,  
Tearing the head of virtue from her shoulders  
If she but look out of the ground of glory.  
Twixt, whom, and me and every worldly fortune  
There fights such sour, and Cursed Antipathy  
So waspish, and so petulant a Star,  
That all things tending to my grace or good  
Are ravished from their object, as I were  
A thing created for a wilderness  
And must not think of any place with men.   Mom. 
O hark you Sir, this wayward mood of yours must sifted be, or rather rooted out, you'll no more music Sir?  Cla. 
Not now my Lord,  Mom. 
begone my masters then to bed, to bed.  Cla. 
I thank you honest friends  Exeunt Musicians. Mo. 
Hence with this book & now monsieur Clarence, methinks plain & prose friendship would do excellent well betwixt us come thus Sir, or rather thus, come Sir 'tis time I trow that we both lived like one body, thus, and that both our sides were slit, and Concorporate with Organs fit to effect an individual passage even for out very thoughts; suppose we were one body now, and I charge you believe it; where of I am the heart, and you the liver.  Cla. 
Your Lordship might well make that division if you knew the plain song.  Mom. 
O Sir, and why so I pray?  Cla. 
First because the heart, is the more worthy entrail, being the first that is borne, and moves, and the last that moves, and dies; and then being the fountain of heat too, for wheresoever our heat does not flow directly from the heart to the other Organs, there, their action must of necessity cease, and so without you I neither would nor could live.  Mom. 
Well Sir for these reasons I may be the heart, why may you be the liver now?.  Cla. 
I am more than ashamed, to tell you that my Lord.  Mom. 
Nay nay be not too suspicious of my judgement, in you I beseech you: ashamed friend? if your love overcome not that shame, a shame take that love I say. Come sir why may you be the liver?  Cla. 
The plain and short truth is (my Lord) because I am all liver, and turned lover.  Mom. 
Lover?  Cla 
Lover i'faith my Lord.  Mom. 
Now I prithee let me leap out of my skin for joy why thou wilt not now revive the sociable mirth of thy sweet disposition? wilt thou shine in the world a new? and make those that have slighted thy love, with the Austerity of thy knowledge, dote on the again with thy commanding shaft of their humours?  Cla. 
A 'las my Lord they are all far out of my aims and only to fit myself a little better to your friendship, have I given these wilful reins to my affections.  Mom. 
And i'faith is my sour friend to all worldly desires overtaken with the heart of the world? Love I shall be monstrous proud now, to hear she's every way a most rare woman that I know thy spirit, & judgement hath chosen, is she wise? is she noble? is she capable of thy virtues? will she kiss this forehead with judicial lips? where somuch judgement & virtue deserves it? Come brother twin, be short I charge you, & name me the woman.  Cla. 
Since your Lordship will shorten the length of my folly's relation, the woman that I so passionately love, is no worse Lady than your own Niece, the too worthy Countess Eugenia.  Mom. 
Why so, so, so, you are a worthy friend are you not to conceal this love-mine in your head, and would not open it to your heart, now beshrew my heart, if my heart dance not for joy though my heels do not, & they do not, because I will not set that at my heels that my friends set at his heart, what? friend and Nephew? both nephe is a far inferior title to friend I confess, but I will prefer the backwards (as many friends do) & leave their friends worse than they found them,  Cla. 
But my noble Lo. it is almost a prodigy, that I being only a poor Gentleman and far short of that state and wealth that a Lady of her greatnesses in both will expect in her husband.  Mom. 
Hold thy doubt friend, never fear any woman, unless thyself be made of straw, or some such dry matter, and she of lightning, Audacity prospers above probability in all worldly matters, dost not thou know that Fortune governs them without order, and therefore reason the mother of order is none of her counsel, why should a man desiring to aspire an unreasonable creature which is a woman? seek her fruition by reasonable means, because thyself binds upon reason, wilt thou look for congruity in a woman? why? there is not one woman amongst one thousand, but will speak false Latin, and break Priscian's head, attempt nothing that you may with great reason doubt of, and out of doubt you shall obtain nothing, I tell thee friend the eminent confidence of strong spirits is the only witchcraft of this world, Spirits wrestling with spirits, as bodies? with bodies? this were enough to make the hope well, if she were one of these painted communities, that are ravished with Coaches, and upper hands, and brave men of dirt: but thou knowest friend she's a good scholar, and like enough to, bite at the rightest reason, and reason evermore Ad optima hortetur: to like that which is best, not that which is bravest, or rightest, or greatest, and so consequently worst, But prove what she can, we will turn her, and wind her, and make her so pliant that we will draw her through a wedding ring i'faith.  Cla. 
Would to god we might my Lord.  Mom. 
I'll warrant thee friend.  Enter Messenger. Mes. 
Where is mistress Winifrid; for my Lady Eugenia desires to speak with your Lordship.  Mom. 
Marry enter mistress Winifred even here I pray thee, from the Lady Eugenia, do you hear friend?  Cla. 
Very easily on that side my Lord.  Mom. 
Let me feel? does not thy heart pant apace, by my heart well laboured Cupid, the field is yours sir God, and upon a very honourable composition, I am sent for now I am sure, and must even truss and to her:  Enter Winifrid. 
witty mistress Winifred, nay come near woman I am sure this Gentleman thinks his chamber the sweeter for your dear presence.  Win, 
My absence shall thank him my Lord.  Mom. 
What rude Mistress Winnifred? nay faith you shall come to him, and kiss him, for his kindness.  Win. 
Nay good my Lord, I'll never go to the market for that ware I can have it brought home to my door  Mom. 
O Winifred, a man may know by the market folks how the market goes.  Win. 
So you may my Lord, but I know few Lords that think scorn to go to that market themselves.  Mom. 
To go to it Winifred, nay to ride to it i'faith.  Win. 
That's more than I know my Lord.  Mom. 
You'll not believe it till you are then a horseback, will ye?  Win. 
Come, come, I am sent of a message to you will you hear it?  Mom. 
Stop, stop fair Winifred, would you have audience so soon, there were no state in that i'faith; this fair gentlewoman sir.  Win. 
Now we shall have a fiction I believe.  Mom. 
Had three Suitors at once.  Win. 
You'll leave out none my Lord.  Mom. 
No more did you Winifred you interfered with them all in truth.  Win. 
O Monstrous Lord by this light!  Mom. 
Now Sir to make my tale short I will do that which she did not; vz. leave out the two first, the third coming the third night for his turn.  Win. 
My Lord, my Lord, my Lady does that, that nobody else does, desires your company and so fare you well.  Mom. 
O stay a little sweet Winifred, help me but to truss my points again, and have with you.  Win. 
Not I by my truth my Lord, I had rather see your hose about your heels, than I would help you to truss a point.  Mom. 
O witty Winifred? for that left, take thy passport, and tell thy Ladies thou leftest me with my hose about my heels.  Win. 
Well, well my Lord you shall sit till the moss grow a bout your he les, ere I come at you again.  exit. Mom. 
She cannot abide to hear of her three Suitors; but is not this very fit my sweet Clarence? Thou seest my rare Niece cannot sleep without me; but forty company's sake, she shall tonight; and in the morning I will visit her early; when do thou but stand in that place, and thou mayest chance hear, (but art sure to see) in what subtle, and far-fetched manner I'll solicit her about thee.  Cla 
Thanks worthy Lord.  exeunt.  
Finis. Actus Primis   

ACTVS SECUNDI  

SAeNA PRIMA  Clarence Solus. Cla. 
I That have studied with world- scorning thoughts the way of heaven, and how true heaven is reached  

To know how mighty, and how many are  
The strange affections of enchanted number  
How to distinguish all the motions  
Of the Celestial bodies, and what power  
doth separate in such form this massy Round:  
What is his Essence, Efficacies, Beams?  
Footsteps, and Shadows? what Eternesses is  
The world, and Time, and Generation?  
What Soul, the worlds Soul is? what the black Springs  
And unrevealed Original of Things,  
What their perseverance— what is life and death,  
And what our Certain restoration?  
Am with the staid-heads of this Time employed  
To watch with all my Nerves a Female shade.   Enter Winifrid, Anabell, with their sowing works and sing: After their song Enter Lord Momford. Mom. 
Witty Mistress Winifrid, where is your Countess I pray?  Wyn. 
Faith your Lordship is bold enough to seek her out, if she were at her urinal?  Mom. 
Then Sh'as done it seems, for here she comes to save me that labour, away wenches, get you hence wenches.  Exeunt. Eu. 
What, can you not abide my maids uncle?  Mom. 
I never could abide a maid in my life Niece, but either I draw away the maid, or the maidenhead with a wet finger.  Eu. 
You love to make yourself worse then you are still.  Mom. 
I know few mend in this world Madam, For the worse the better thought on, the better the worse spoken on ever amongst women.  Eu. 
I wonder where you have been all this while with your sentences.  Mom, 
Faith where I must be again presently. I cannot stay long with you my dear Niece.  Eu. 
By my faith but you shall my Lord, God's pity what will become of you shortly, that you drive maids afore you, & offer to leave widows behind you, as mankindly, as if you had taken a surfeit of our Sex lately, and our very sight turned your stomach.  Mom. 
God's my life, She abuses her best uncle; never trust me if it were not a good revenge to help her to the loss of her widowhood.  Eu. 
That were a revenge and a half, indeed.  Mom. 
Nay 'twere but a whole revenge Niece, but such a revenge as would more than observe the true rule of a revenge.  Eu. 
I know your rule before you utter it, ulcisere Inimico sed sine tuo incommodo.  Mom. 
O rare Niece, you may see, what 'tis to be a a scholar now, Learning in a woman is like weight in gold, or Luster in Diamonds, which in no other Stone is so rich or refulgent  Eug. 
But say dear Uncle how could you find in your heart to stay so long from me.  Mom. 
Why alas Niece, you're so smeared with this willful-widows three-years' black weed, that I never come to you, but I dream of Courses, and Sepulchres, and epitaphs, all the night after, and therefore adieu dear Niece.  Eug. 
Beshrew my heart my Lord, if you go these three hours.  Mom. 
Three hours? nay Niece, if I dance attendance three hours (alone in her chamber) with an Lady so near allied to me, I am very idle i'faith, marry with such another; I would dance, one, two, three, four, and five, though it cost me ten shillings; and now I am in, have at it, my head must devise something while my feet are piddling thus, that may bring her to some fit consideration of my friend, who indeed is only a great scholar, and all his honours, and riches lie in his mind.  Eug. 
Come, Come, pray tell me uncle, how does my cozen Momford?  Mom. 
Why, well, very well Niece, & so is my friend Clarence well too, & then is there a worthy gentleman well as any is in England I can tell ye.  Eug. 
But when did you see my cozen?  Mom. 
And 'tis pity but he should do well, and he shall be well too, if all my wealth will make him well.  Eug. 
What means he by this trow ye, your Lo: is very dancitive methinks.  Mom. 
ay, and I could tell you a thing would make your Ladyship very dancitive, or else it were very dunsative i'faith. O how the skipping of this Christmas block of ours moves the blockhead heart of a woman, & indeed any thing that pleaseth the foolish eye which presently runs with a lying tale of Excellence to the mind.  Eug. 
But I pray tell me my Lord could you tell me of a thing would make me dance say you?  Mom. 
Well, farewell sweet Niece I must needs take my leave in earnest.  Eug. 
Lord bless us, here's such a stir with your farewells.  Mom. 
I will see you again within these two or three days a my word Niece.  Eug. 
God's precious, two or three days? why this Lord is in a marvelous strange humour. Sit down sweet Uncle, i'faith I have to talk with you about great matters.  Mom. 
Say then dear Niece, be short utter your mind quickly now.  Eug. 
But I pray tell me first, what's that would make me dance i'faith?  Mom. 
Dance, what dance? hitherto your dancers legs bow forsooth, and Caper, and jerk, and Firk, and dandle the body above them, as it were their great child, though the special jerker be above this place I hope, here lies that should fetch a perfect woman over the Coals i'faith.  Eug. 
Nay good Uncle say what's the thing you could tell me of.  Mom. 
No matter, no matter: But let me see a passing prosperous forehead of an exceeding happy distance betwixt the eye brows; a clean lightning eye; a temperate and fresh blood in both the cheeks; excellent marks, most excellent marks of good fortune.  Eug. 
Why, how now Uncle did you never see me before!  Mom. 
Yes Niece; but the state of these things at this instant must be specially observed, and these outward signs being now in this clear elevation, show your untroubled mind is in an excellent power, to prefer them to act forth then a little dear Niece.  Eug. 
This is excellent.  Mom. 
The cresses here are excellent good; The proportion of the chin good; the little aptness of it to stick out; good. And the wart above it most exceeding good. Never trust me, if all things be not answerable to the prediction of a most divine fortune towards her; vow if she have the grace to apprehend it in the nick; there's all.  Eug. 
Well my Lord, since you will not tell me your secret, i'll keep another from you; with whose discovery, you may much pleasure me, and whose concealment may hurt my estate. And if you be no kinder than to see me so endangered; i'll be very patient of it I assure you.  Mom. 
Nay then it must instantly forth. This kind con juration even fires it out of me; and (to be short) gather all your judgement together, for here it comes. Niece; Clarence Clarence, rather my Soul then my friend Clarence of too substantial a worth, to have any figures cast about him, (notwithstanding, no other woman with Empires could stir his affections) is with your virtues most extremely in love; and without your requital dead. And with it famed shall sound this golden distich through the world of you both.  

Non illo melior quisquam nec amantior aequi  
Vir fuit, aut illa reverentior ulla Dearum.   Eug. 

Ay me poor Dame, O you amaze me Uncle,  
Is this the wondrous fortune you presage?  
What man may miserable women trust?   Mom. 
O peace good Lady, I come not to ravish you to any thing. But now I see how you accept my motion: I perceive (how upon true trial) you esteem me. Have I rid all this Circuit to levy the powers of your judgement, that I might not prove their strength too suddenly with so violent a charge: And do they fight it out in white blood. And show me their hearts in the soft Crystal of tears  Eug. 
O uncle you have wounded yourself in charging me that I should shun judgement as a monster, if it would not weep; I place the poor felicity of this world in a worthy friend, and to see him so unworthily revolted, I shed not the tears of my Brain, but the tears of my soul. And if ever nature made tears the effects of any worthy cause, I am sure I now shed them worthily.  Mom. 
Her sensual powers are up i'faith, I have thrust her soul quite from her Tribunal. This is her Sedes vacans when her subjects are privileged to libel against her, and her friends. But weeps my kind Niece for the wounds of my friendship? and I touched in friendship for wishing my friend doubled in her singular happiness?  Eug. 
How am I doubled? when my honour, and good name, two essential parts of me; would be less, and lost?  Mom. 
In whose judgement?  Eug. 
In the judgement of the world.  Mom. 
Which is a fools boult. Nihil a vertute nec a viritate remotius quam Vulgaris opinto: But my dear Niece, it is most true that your honour and good name tendered as they are the species of truth are worthily two essential parts of you; But as they consist only in airy titles and corruptible blood (whose bitterness sanitas et non nobilitas efficit) and care not how many base and execrable acts they commit, they touch you no more than they touch eternity. And yet shall no nobility you have in either, be impaired neither.  Eu. 
Not to marry a poor gentleman?  Mom. 
Respect him not so; for as he is a gentleman he is noble; as he is wealthily furnished with true knowledge, he is rich and therein adorned with the exactest compliments belonging to everlasting nobleness.  Eug. 
Which yet will not maintain him a week: Such kind of nobleness gives no coats of honour nor can scarce get a coat for necessity  Mom. 
Then is it not substantial knowledge (as it is in him) but verbal and fantastical for Omnia in illa ille. complexu tenet.  Eug. 
Why seeks he me then?  Mom. 
To make you joint partners with him in all things, and there is but a little partial difference betwixt you, that hinders that universal jointure: The bigness of this circle held too near our eye keeps it from the whole Sphere of the Sun but; could we sustain it indifferently betwixt us and it, it would then without check of one beam appear in his fullness.  Eug. 
Good Uncle be content for now shall I never dream of contentment.  Mom. 
I have more than done Lady, and had rather have suffered an alteration of my being then of your judgement; but (dear niece) for your own honour's sake repair it instantly.  Enter Hippolita. Penelope. Jack. Will. 
See here comes the Ladies; make an April day one dear love and be suddenly cheerful God save you more than fair Ladies, I am glad you're come, for my business will have me gone presently.  Hip. 
Why my Lord Momford I say? will you go before dinner?  Mom. 
No remedy sweet Beauties, for which rudeness I lay my hands thus low for your pardons:  Pen. 
O Courteous Lord Momford!  Mom. 
Niece? Mens estquae sola quietes. Sola facit claros mentemque honoribus ornat  exit Eug 
Verus honos juuat at mendax infamia terret.  Mon. 
Mine own dear nephew?  Cla. 
What success my Lord?  Mom. 
Excellent; excellent; come I'll tell thee all.  exeunt Hip. 
Do you hear madam, how our youths here have gulled our three suitors?  Eug 
not I Lady, I hope our suitors are no fit meat for our Pages.  Pe. 
No madam, but they are fit sauce for any man's meat I'll warrant them.  Eug. 
What's the matter Hippolita?  Hip 
They have sent the knights to Barnet madam this frosty morning to meet us their.  Efug. 
is't true youths, are knights fit subjects for your knaveries—  Wil. 
Pray pardon us madam, we would be glad to please anybody.  Iac. 
I indeed madam and we were sure we pleased them highly to tell them you were desirous of their company.  Hip. 
O 'twas good Eugenia, their livers were too hot, you know, and for temper's sake they must needs have a cooling card played upon them.  Wil. 
And besides madam we wood have them know that your two little Pages, which are less by half then two leaves, have more learning in them then is in all their three volumes.  Ia. 
i'faith Will, and put their great pagical index to them too.  Hip. 
But how will ye excuse your abuses wags?  Will 
We doubt not madam, but if it please your Ladyship to put up their abuses,  Ia. 
Trusting they are not so dear to you, but you may.  Will 
we shall make them gladly furnish their pockets with them.  Hip. 
Well, children, and fowls, agree as you will, and let the world know now, women have nothing to do with you.  Pe. 
Come madam I think your dinner be almost ready,  Enter Tales Kingcob. Hip. 
And see, here are two honourable guests for you, the Lord Tales, and Sir Cutberd Kingcob.  Ta. 
Lack you any guest's madam?  Eu. 
I my Lord such guests as you.  Hip 
There's as common an answer, as yours was a question my Lord.  King. 
Why? all things should be common betwixt Lords, and Ladies you know.  Pen. 
Indeed Sir Kuttberd Bingcob, I have heard, you are either of the family of Love, or of no religion at all.  Eug. 
He may well be said to be of the family of Love, he does so flow in the loves of poor overthrown Ladies.  King. 
You speak of that I wood do madam, but in earnest, I am now suing for a new mistress; look in my hand sweet Lady, and tell me what fortune I shall have with her.  Eug. 
Do you think me a witch, Sir Cutberd?  King. 
Pardon me Madam, but I know you to be learned in all things.  Eug. 
Come on let's see.  Hip. 
He does you a special favour Lady, to give you his open hand, for 'tis commonly shut they say.  King. 
What find you in it madam?  Eug. 
Shut it now and i'll tell ye.  King. 
What now Lady?  Eug. 
Y'ave the worst hand that ever I saw knight have, when 'tis open, one can find nothing in it, and when 'tis shut one can get nothing out on't.  King. 
The age of letting go is past madam, we must not now let go, but strike up men's heels, and take am as they fall.  Eug. 
A good Cornish principle believe it Sir Cuttberd.  Tales 
But I pray tell me Lady Penelope, how entertain you the love of my cozen Sir Gyles Goosecap.  Pene. 
Are the Goosecaps a kin to you my Lord.  Ta. 
even in the first degree madam. And Sir Gyles I can tell ye, though he seem something simple, is composed of as many good parts as any knight in England.  Hip, 
He should be put up for concealment then, for he shows none of them.  Pen. 
Are you able to reckon his good parts my Lord?  Ta. 
I'll do the best I can Lady, first, he dances as comely and lightly as any man, for upon my honour, I have seen him dance upon Eggs, and 'a has not broken them.  Pen. 
Nor cracked them neither.  Ta. 
That I know not, indeed I wood be loath, to lie though he be my kinsman, to speak more than I know by him.  Eug. 
Well forth my Lord.  Ta. 
He has an excellent skill in all manner of perfumes, & if you bring him gloves fro forty pence, to forty Shillings a pair he will tell you the price of them to two pence.  Hip. 
A pretty sweet quality believe me.  Tales 
Nay Lady he will perfume you gloves himself; most dilicately, and give them the right Spanish Titillation.  
Titillation what's that my Lord?  Tal. 
Why Lady 'tis a pretty kind of term new come up in perfuming, which they call a Titillation.  Hip. 
Very well expounded my Lord; forth with your kinsman's parts I pray.  Tal. 
He is the best Sempster of any woman in England, and will work you needle work edgings, and French purls from an Angel to four Angels a yard.  Eug. 
That's precious ware indeed.  Tal. 
He will work you any flower to the life, as like it as if it grew in the very place, and being a delicate perfumer, he will give it you his perfect and natural savour.  Hip. 
This is wonderful; forth sweet Lord Tales.  Tal. 
He will make you flies and worms, of all sorts most lively, and is now working a whole bed embroidered, with nothing but glow worms; whose lights a has so perfectly done, that you may go to bed in the chamber, do any thing in the Chamber, without a Candle.  Pene. 
Never trust me if it be not incredible; forth my good Lord.  Tal. 
He is a most excellent Turner, and will turn you wassail-bowls, and posset Cups carved with leopard's faces, and lions heads with spouts in their mouths, to let out the posset Ale, most artificially.  Eug. 
Forth good Lord Tales.  Pene. 
Nay good my Lord no more, you have spoken for him thoroughly I warrant you.  Hip. 
I lay my life Cupid has shot my sister in love with him out of your lips my Lord.  Eug. 
Well, come in my Lords, and take a bad dinner with me now, and we will all go with you at night to a better supper with the Lord, and Lady Furnifall.  King. Tale. 
We attend you honourable Ladies.  Exeunt.   

ACTVS TERTII  

SCAeNA PRIMA.  Enter Rudesby Goosecap. Rud. 
Bullaker.  Bul. 
I Sir.  Rud. 
Ride and catch the captains horse.  Bul. 
So I do Sir.  Rud. 
I wonder Sir Gyles you wood let him go so, and not ride after him.  Goos. 
Wood I might never be mortal Sir cut: if I rid not after him, till my horse sweat, so that he had near a dry thread on him, & holloa'd & holloa'd to him to stay him, till I had thought my finger's ends wood have gone off with hollowings; I'll be sworn to ye & yet he ran his way like a Diogenes, and would never stay for us.  Rud. 
How shall we do to get the lame Captain to London, now his horse is gone?  Goos. 
Why he is but a lame jade neither Sir Meyle, we shall soon o'ertake him I warrant ye.  Rud. 
And yet thou sayst thou gallop'st after him as fast as thou couldst, and couldst not Catch him; I lay my life some crabfish has bitten thee by the tongue, thou speakest so backward still.  Goos. 
But here's all the doubt Sir cut: if nobody should catch him now, when he comes at London, some boy or other wood get up on him and ride him hot into the water to wash him; I'll be sworn I followed one that rid my horse into the Thames, till I was up tooth knees hitherto; and if it had not been for fear of going over shoes, because I am troubled with the rheum, I wood have taught him to wash my horse when he was  Enter Foul. 
hot yfath; how now sweet Captain dost feel any ease in thy pain yet?  Rud. 
Ease in his pain quoth you, has good luck if he feel ease in pain I think, but wood any ass in the world ride down such a hill as Highgate is, in such a frost as this, and never light  Foul. 
God's precious Sir Cut. your Frenchman never lights I tell ye.  Goos. 
Light Sir cut, Slight and I had my horse again, there's near a paltry English frost anthem all should make me light.  Rud. 
Go too you French Zanies you, you will follow the french steps so long, till you be notable to set one Sound Step o'th' ground all the days of your life.  Goos. 
Why Sir Cut I care not if I be not sound so I be well but we were justly plagued, by this hill for following women thus.  Foul. 
I and English women too sir Giles.  Rud. 
Thou art still prating against English women I have seen none of the French dames I confess, but your greatest gallants for men in France, were here lately I am sure, and methinks there should be no more difference betwixt our Ladies and theirs, than there is betwixt our Lords and theirs, and our Lords are as far beyond them i'faith, for person, and Courtship, as they are beyond ours for phantasticality.  Foul. 
O Lord sir Cut, I am sure our Ladies hold our Lords tack for Courtship, and yet the french Lords put them down, you noted it sir Gyles.  Goos. 
O God sir, I stud and heard it, as I sat i'th' presence.  Rud. 
How did they put them down I pray thee?  Foul. 
Why for wit, and for Courtship Sir Moil.  Foul. 
As how good left-headed Francois.  Fou.. 
Why Sir when monsieur Lambois came to your mistress the Lady Hippolita as she sat in the presence, sit down here good Sir Gyles Goosecap, he kneeled me by her thus Sir, and with a most quaint French Art in his speech of ah bellissime, I desire to die now fares he for in his speech of ah bellissime I desire to die now says he for your love that I might be buried here.  Rud. 
A good pickthatched complement by my faith; but I prithee what answered she.  Foul. 
She, I scorn to note that I hope then did he vie it again with another hah.  Rud. 
That was hah, hah, I wood have put the third hah to it, if I had been as my mistress, and ha-ha-ha'ed him out of the presence i'faith,  Foul. 
Hah says he, these fair eyes, I wood not for a million they were in France, they wood renew all our civil-wars again.  Goose. 
That was not so good methinks captain.  Rud. 
well-judged i'faith, there was a little wit in that I must confess, but she put him down far, & answered him with a question & that was whether he wood seem a lover or a jester, if a lover a must tell her far more likelier than those, or else she was far from believing them, if a jester, she could have much more ridiculous jests than his of twenty fools that followed the court, and told him she had as lief be courted with a brush faggot as with a frenchman, that spent itself all in sparks, & would sooner fire one's chimney then warm the house, and that such sparks were good enough yet to set thatched dispositions afire, but hers was tilled with sleight, and respected them as slightly.  Goos. 
Why so Captain, and yet you talk of your great frenchmen, to God little England had never known them I may say.  Foul. 
What's the matter sir Giles, are you out of love with frenchmen now of a sudden.  Goos. 
'slid captain Wood not make one, I'll be sworn, I'll be sworn, they took away a masty dog of mine by commission now, I think on't makes my tears stand in my eyes with grief, I had rather lost the dearest friend that ever I lay withal, in my life be this light, never stir if if he fought not with great Sekerson four hours to one, foremost take up hindmost, and took so many loaves from him, that he starved him presently: So at last the dog could do no more than a Bear could do, and the bear being heavy with hunger you know, fell upon the dog, broke his back, and the dog never stirred more.  Rud. 
Why thou sayst the frenchmen took him away.  Goos. 
Frenchmen, ay, so they did too, but yet and he had not been killed, 'twood near a grieved me.  Foul. 
O excellent unity of speech.  Enter Will and Jack at several doors. Will 
Save ye knights.  Ia. 
Save you Captain.  Faul. 
Pages, welcome my fine pages.  Rud. 
Welcome boys.  Goos. 
Welcome sweet Will, good Jack.  Foul. 
But how chance you are so far from London now pages, is it not almost dinner time.  Will 
Yes indeed Sir, but we left our fellows to wait for once, and could not choose in pure love to your worships, but we must needs come and meet you, before you met our Ladies, to tell you a secret.  Omnes 
A secret, what secret I pray thee?  Ia. 
If ever your worships say any thing, we are undone for ever.  Omnes 
Not for a world believe it.  Will 
Why then this it is; we overheard our Ladies as they were talking in private say they refused to meet you at Barnet this morning of purpose, because they wood try which of you were most patient.  Ia. 
And some said you, Sir Gyles, another you Sir and the third you Captain,  Om. 
This was excellent.  Will 
Then did they swear one another not to excuse themselves to you by any means, that they might try you the better, now if they shall see you say nothing in the world to them, what may come of it, when Ladies begin to try their suitors once, I hope your wisdoms can judge a little.  Foul. 
O ho my little knave let us alone now i'faith, wood I might be cashiered, if I say any thing.  Rud. 
Faith and I can forbear my Tongue as well as another I hope.  Goos. 
Wood I might be degraded if I speak a word, I'll tell them I care not for losing my labour.  Foul. 
Come knights shall we not reward the pages?  Rud. 
Yes I prithee do, Sir Gyles give the boys something.  Goos. 
Never stir Sir cut, if I have ever a groat about me but one three pence.  Foul. 
Well knights i'll lay out for'rs all, here my fine pages.  Will 
No in deed an't please your worship.  Foul. 
O pages refuse a gentleman's bounty.  Ia. 
Cry you mercy Sir, thank you sweet Captain  Foul. 
And what other news is stirring my fine villiacos.  Will 
Marry Sir they are invited to a great supper tonight to your Lords house Captain, the Lord Furnifall, and there will be your great cozen Sir Gyles Goosecap, the Lord Tales, and your uncle Sir cut. Rudesby, Sir Cutbert Kingcob.  Foul. 
The Lord Tales, what countryman is he?  Ia. 
A kentish Lord Sir, his ancestors came forth off canterbury.  Foul. 
Out of canterbury.  Will 
I indeed Sir the best Tales in England are your canterbury tales, I assure ye.  Rud. 
the boy tells thee true Captain.  Ia. 
He writes his name Sir, Tales, and he being the tenth son his father had; his father christened him Decem Tales, and so his whole name is the Lord Decem Tales.  Goos. 
A my mortality the boy knows more than I do of our house.  Rud. 
But is the Lady Furnifall (Captain) still of the same drinking humour she was wont to be.  Foul. 
Still of the same knight, and is never in any sociable vain till she be tipsy, for in her sobriety she is mad, and fears my good little old Lord out of all proportion.  King. 
And therefore as I hear he will earnestly invite guests to his house, of purpose to make his wife drunk, and then dotes on her humour most profanely.  Foul. 
'tis very true knight; we will sup with them tonight; and you shall see her; and now I think on't, I'll tell you a thing knights, wherein perhaps you may exceedingly pleasure me.  Goos. 
What's that good Captain.  Foul. 
I am desirous to help my Lord to a good merry Fool, & if I could help him to a good merry one, he might do me very much credit I assure ye.  Rud. 
'sblood thou speakest to us as if we could serve thy turn.  Foul. 
O France Sir cut: your Frenchman wood not have taken me so, for a world, but because Fools come into your companies many times to make you merry  Rud. 
As thou dost.  Goos. 
Nay good Sir cut: you know fools do come into your companies.  Rud. 
I and thou know'st it too, no man better.  Foul. 
Bear with Choler Sir Gyles.  Will. 
But wood you help your Lord to a good fool so fain Sir.  Foul. 
I my good page exceeding fain.  Ia. 
You mean a wench, do you not Sir, a foolish wench?  Foul. 
Nay I wood have a man fool, for his Lord: page.  Will 
Does his Lord: love a fool, so well I pray.  Foul. 
Assure thyself page, my Lord loves a fool as he loves himself.  Ia. 
Of what degree wood you have your Fool Sir, for you may have of all manner of degrees.  Foul. 
Faith I wood have him a good Emphatical fool, one that wood make my Lord laugh well, and I card not,  Will 
Laugh well (umh) than we must know this Sir, is your Lord Costive of laughter, or laxative of laughter?  Foul. 
Nay he is good merry little Lord, and indeed something Laxative of Laughter.  Will. 
Why then Sir the less wit will serve his Lordship's turn, marry if he had been Costive of laughter, he must have had two or three drams of wit the more in his fool, for we must minister according to the quantity of his Lord: humour you know, and if he should have as much Wit in his fool being Laxative of laughter, as if he were Costive of Laughter, why he might laugh himself into an Epilepsy, and fall down dead suddenly, as many have done with the extremity of that passion; and I know your Lord cares for nothing, but the health of a fool.  Foul. 
Thart i'th' right my notable good page.  Ia. 
Why, and for that health Sir we will warrant his Lordship, that if he should have all Bacon de sanitate tuenda read to him, it should not please his Lordship so well as our fool shall.  Foul. 
Remercy my more than English pages.  Goos. 
A my word I have not seen pages have so much wit, that have never been in France Captain.  Foul. 
'tis true indeed Sir Gyles, well then my almost french elixirs, will you help my Lord to a fool, so fit for him as you say.  Will 
As fit, I'll warrant you Captain, as if he were made for him, and he shall come this night to supper, and fool where his Lord: sits at table.  Foul. 
Excellent sir, fail not now my sweet pages.  Ia. 
Not for a world sir, we will go both, and seek him presently.  Foul. 
Do so my good wags  Wil. 
Save you knights.  Ia. 
Save you Captain.  Exeunt. Foul. 
Farewell my pretty knaves, come knights, shall we resolve to go to this Supper?  Rud. 
What else.  Goos. 
And let's provide torches for our men to sit at door with all captain.  Foul. 
That we will I warrant you sir Giles.  Rud. 
Torches? why the Moon will shine man.  Goos. 
The moon Sir Cut: I scorn the moon i'faith, 'slid sometimes a man shall not get her to shine & if he wood give her a couple of Capons, and one of them must be white too, God forgive me I cud never abide her since yesterday, she served me such a trick other night.  Rud. 
What trick sir Gyles?  Goos. 
Why sir Cut: cause the days be mortal and short now you know, and I love day light well; I thought it went a way faster than it needed, and run after it into Finsbury-fields i'th' calm evening to see the wind mills go? & even as I was going over a ditch the moon by this light of purpose runs me behind a cloud, and lets me fall into the ditch by heaven.  Rud. 
That was ill done in her in deed sir Giles.  Goos. 
Ill done sir Cut: 'slid a man may bear, and bear, but and she have no more good manners, but to make every black slovenly cloud a pearl in her eye I shall near love English moon again, while I live I'll be sworn to ye.  Foul. 
come knights to London horse, horse, horse.  Rud. 
In what a case he is with the poor English moon, because the french moons (their torches) willbe the less in fashion, and I warrant you the Captain will remember it too, though he say no thing, he seconds his resolute chaseso and follows him, I'll lay my life you shall see them the next cold night, shut the moonshine out of their chambers, and make it lie without doors all night. I discredit my wit with their companies now I think on't, plague a god on them; I'll fall a beating on them presently.  Exit. Enter Lord Momford and Clarence. Clarence Horatio. Cla. 

Sing good Horatio, while I sigh and write.  
According to my master Plato's mind  
The Soul is music, and doth therefore joy  
In accents musical, which he that hates  
With points of discord is together tied  
And barks at Reason, Consonant in sense.  
Divine Eugenia, bears the ocular form  
Of music and of Reason, and presents  
The Soul exempt from flesh in flesh inflamed,  
Who must not love her then, that loves his soul?  
To her I write, my friend, the star of friends  
Will needs have my strange lines greet her strange eyes  
And for his sake I'll power my poor Soul forth  
In floods of Ink; but did not his kind hand  
Bar me with violent grace, I wood consume.  
In the white flames of her impassionate Love  
Ere my harsh lips should vent the odorous blaze.  
For I am desperate of all worldly joys  
And there was never man so harsh to men,  
When I am fullest of digested life  
I seem a lifeless embryon to all  
Each day racked up in nightlike Funeral.  
Sing good Horatio, whilst I sigh and write.   Canto. 
The Letter.  
Suffer him to love that suffers not loving, my love is without passion and therefore free from alteration.  

Prose is too harsh, and verse is poetry  
Why should I write then? merit clad in Ink  
Is but a mourner, and as good as naked  
I will not write my friend shall speak for me  
Sing one stave more my good Horatio.   Canto. 

I must remember I know whom I love,  
A dame of learning, and of life exempt  
From all the Idle fancies of her sex,  
And this that to another dame wood seem  
Perplexed and folded in a rudelesse vail  
willbe more clear than ballads to her eye  
I'll write, if but to satisfy my friend.  
Your third stance sweet Horatio and no more.   Canto. 

How vainly do I offer my strange love?  
I marry, and bid states, and entertain  
Ladies with tales and jests, and Lords with news  
And keep a house to feast Actaeon's hounds  
That eat their master, and let idle guests  
Draw me from serious search of things divine  
To bid them sit, and welcome, and take care  
To soothe their palates with choice kitchenstuff  
As all must do that marry and keep house  
And then look on the left sid of my yoke  
Or on the right perhaps and see my wife  
Draw in a quite repugnant course from me  
Busied to starch her french purls, and her puffs  
When I am in my Anima refiexa quid sit faelicitas quae origo rerum?  
And make these beings that are known to be  
The only serious objects of true men  
Seem shadows, with substantial stir she keeps  
About her shadows, which if husband's love  
They must believe, and thus my other self  
Brings me another body to dispose  
That have already much too much of one,  
And must not look for any Soul of her  
To help two rule to bodies.   Mom. 

Fie for shame.  
I never heard of such an antedame.  
Do women bring no help of soul to men?  
Why friend they either are men's souls themselves  
Or the most witty null of them  
Or prettiest sweet apes of humane Souls,  
That ever Nature framed; as I will prove.  
For first they be Substantiae lucidae  
And purer than men's bodies like their souls,  
Which men's harsh hairs both of their breast & chin  
Occasioned by their gross and ruder heat  
Plainly demonstrates: Then like souls they do,  
Movere corpora, for no power on earth  
Moves a man's body, as a woman does!  
Then do they Dare formas corpori  
Or add fair forms to men, as their souls do:  
For but for women, who wood care for forms?  
I vow I never wood wash face, nor hands  
Nor care how ragged, or slovenly I went  
Were't not for women, who of all men's pomps  
Are the true final causes: Then they make  
Men in their Seeds immortal like their Souls  
That else wood perish in a span of time.  
Oh they be soul-like-creatures, and my Niece  
The Soul of twenty rare Souls stilled in one.   Cla. 
That, that it is my Lord, that makes me love.  Mom. 

Oh are ye come Sir, welcome to my Niece  
As I may say at midnight gentle friend  
What have you wrote I pray?   Cla. 
Strange stuff my Lord. 
He reads and comments.   Mom. 

Indeed the way to believe is to love  
And the right way to love is to believe,  
This I will carry now with pen and Ink  
For her to use in answer, see, sweet friend  
She shall not stay to call, but while the steel  
Of her affection is made soft and hot,  
I'll strike and take occasion by the brow.  
Blessed is the wooing that's not long a doing.   Exit. Cla. 

Had ever man so true, and noble friend?  
Or wood men think this sharp world's freezing Air  
To all true honour and judicial love  
Wood suffer such a flourishing pine in both  
To overlook the box-trees of this time?  
When the learned mind hath by impulsion wrought  
Her eyes clear fire into a knowing flame.  
No elemental smoke can darken it  
Nor Northern coldness nip her Daphnean flower,  
O sacred friendship thanks to thy kind power  
That being retired from all the faithless world  
appear'st to me in my unworldly friend,  
And for thine own sake let his noble mind  
By moving precedent to all his kind  
(Like just Deucalion) of earth's stony bones  
Repair the world with human blood and flesh  
And dying virtue with new life refresh.   Exit.   

ACTVS QVARTVS.  Enter Tales, Kingcob, Eugenia, Hippolita, Penelope, Winnifred. King. 
'tis time to leave your Chests Ladies 'tis too studious an exercise after dinner.  Tal. 
Why is it called Chests?  Hip. 
Because they lean upon their Chests that play at it.  Tal 
I wood have it called the strife of wits, for 'tis a game so witty, that with strife for mastery, we hunt it eagerly.  Eug 
Specially where the wit of the Goosecaps are in chase my Lord.  Tal. 
I am a Goosecap by the mother's side madam, at least my mother was a Goosecap.  Fen. 
And you were her white son, I warrant my Lord.  Tal. 
I was the youngest Lady, and therefore must be her white son ye know, the youngest of ten I was.  Hip. 
And the wisest of fifteen.  Tal. 
And sweet Lady will ye cast a kind eye now upon my cousin, Sir Gyles Goosecap.  Pen. 
Pardon my Lord I have never a spare eye to cast away I assure ye.  Tal. 
I wonder you should Count it cast away Lady upon him, do you remember those few of his good parts I rehearsed to you.  Pen. 
Very perfectly my Lord, amongst which one of them was, that he is the best Sempster of any woman in England, pray let's see some of his work?  Hip. 
Sweet Lord let's see him sow a little.  Tal. 
You shall a mine honour Lady.  Eug. 
he's a goodly great knight indeed; and a little needle in his hand will become him prettily.  King. 
From the Spanish pike to the Spanish needle, he shall play with any knight in England Lady.  Eug. 
But not e converso, from the Spanish needle to the Spanish pike.  King. 
I think he be too wise for that indeed madam, for he has 20. miles length in land lies together, and he wood be loath to bring it all to the length of a pike.  Hip. 
But no man commends my blunt Servant Sir cut: Rudesby methinks.  King. 
He is a kind gentleman Lady though he be blunt, and is of this humour, the more you presume upon him without Ceremony, the more he loves you, if he know you think him kind once and will say nothing but still use him, you may melt him into any kindness you will; he is right like a woman, and had rather, you should bluntly take the greatest favour you can of him, then shamefastly entreat it.  Eug 
He says well to you Hippolita.  Hip 
I madam, but they say, he will beat one in jest, and bite in kindness, and tear one's ruffs in Courtship.  King. 
Some that he makes sport withal perhaps, but none that he respects I assure ye.  Hip. 
And what's his living sir Cutbeard?  King. 
Some two thousand a year Lady.  Hip. 
I pray do not tell him that I asked, for I stand not upon living.  King 
O Good Lady who can live without living?  Enter Momford. Mom 
Still here Lordings? good companions i'faith, I see you come not for victuals.  Tal. 
victuals, my Lord, I hope we have victuals at home.  Mom. 
ay but sweet Lord, there is a principle in the Politicians physic, that not your meat upon other men's trenchers, & beware of surfeits of your own cost many good companions cannot abide to eat meat at home ye know. And how fairs my noble Niece now, and her fair Lady Feeres?  Eug. 
What wind blows you hither trow?  Mom. 
Hark you madam, the sweet gale of one Clarence's breath, with this his paper sail blows me hither.  Eug. 
ay me still, in that humour? beshrew my heart it I take any Papers from him.  Mom. 
Kind bosom do thou take it then.  Eug. 
Nay then never trust me.  Mom. 
Let it fall then, or cast it away you were best, that everybody may discover your love suits, do; there's somebody near if you note it, and how have you spent the time since dinner nobles?  King. 
At chests my Lords,  Mom. 
Read it niece.  Eug. 
Here bear it back I pray.  Mom. 
I bear you on my back to hear you; and how play the Lady's sir Cuthbert, what men do they play best withal, with knights or rooks?  Tal. 
With knights my Lord.  Mom. 
'tis pity their board is no broader, and that some men called gulls are not added to their game  King. 
Why my Lo it needs not, they make the knights gulls.  Mom 
That's pretty sir Cuthbert; you have begone I know Niece, forth I command you.  Eug. 
O you're a sweet uncle.  Mom. 
I have brought her a little Greek, to help me out withal, and she's so coy of her learning for sooth she makes it strange: Lords, and Ladies, I invite you all to supper tonight, and you shall not deny me.  Ad. 
We will attend your Lordship.  Tal. 
Come Ladies let's into the gallery a little.  exeunt Mom. 
And now what says mine own dear niece i'faith?  Eug. 
What should she say to the backside of a paper.  Mom. 
Come, come, I know you have been a'the belly side.  Eug. 
Now was there ever Lord so prodigal, of his own honoured blood, and dignity?  Mom 
Away with these same horse fair alligations, will you answer the letter?  Eug. 
God's my life you go like a cunning spokes man, man, answer uncle? what do ye think me desperate of a husband  Mom. 
Not so niece, but careless of your poor uncle.  Eug. 
I will not write that's certain.  Mom. 
What will you have my friend and I perish, do you thirst our bloods?  Eug. 
O you're in a mighty danger no doubt on't.  Mom. 
If you have our bloods beware our ghosts I can tell ye, come will ye write?  Eug. 
I will not write i'faith.  Mom. 
i'faith dame, than I must be your secretary I see, here's the letter, come, do you dictate and I'll write.  Eug. 
If you write no otherwise than I dictate, it will scarce prove a kind answer I believe.  Mom. 
But you will be advised I trust. Secretaries are of counsel with their countesses, thus it begins. Suffer him to love, that suffers not loving, what answer you to that?  Eug. 
He loves extremely that suffers not in love.  Mom. 
He answers you for that presently, his love is without passion, and therefore free from alteration, for Pati you know is in Alterationem labi he loves you in his soul he tells you, wherein there is no passion, say dame what answer you.  Eug. 
Nay if I answer any thing.  Mom. 
Why? very well, i'll answer for you.  Eug. 
You answer? shall I set my hand to your answer?  Mom. 
I by my faith shall ye.  Eug. 
By my faith, but you shall answer as I wood have you then.  Mom. 
Always put in with advice of your secretary, niece, come, what answer you?  Eug. 
Since you needs will have my Answer, I'll Answer briefly to the first, and last part of his letter.  Mom. 
Do so Niece, and leave the midst for himself a God's name, what is your answer?  Eug. 
I cannot but suffer you to love, if you do love.  Mom. 
Why very good, there it is, and will requite your love; say you so? 
He writes and she dictates.   Eug. 
beshrew my lips then my Lord.  Mom. 
beshrew my fingers but you shall; what, you may promise to requite his love, and yet not promise him marriage I hope; well, and will requite your love.  Eug. 
Nay good my Lord hold your hand, for i'll be sworn, i'll not set my hand to't.  Mom. 
Well hold of your hand good madam till it should come on, I'll be ready for it anon, I warrant ye now forth; my Love is without passion, and therefore free from alteration, what answer you to that madam?  Eug. 
even this my Lord, your Love being mental, needs no bodily Requital.  Mom. 
I am Content with that, and here it is; but in heart.  Eug. 
What but in heart?  Mom. 
Hold of your hand yet I say, I do embrace and repay it,  Eug. 
You may write uncle, but if you get my hand to it,  Mom. 
Alas Niece this is nothing, be't any thing to a bodily marriage, to say you love a man in Soul if your hearts agree and your bodies meet not? simple marriage rites, now let us forth: he is in the way to felicity, and desires your hand.  Eug. 
My hand shall always sign the way to felicity.  Mom. 
Very good, may not any woman say this now. Conclude now sweet Niece.  Eug. 
And so God prosper your journey.  Mom. 
Charitably concluded, though far short of that love I wood have shown to any friend of yours Niece I swear to you, your hand now, and let this little stay his appetite.  Eug. 
Read what you have writ my Lord.  Mom. 
What needs that madam, you remember it I am sure.  Eug. 
Well if it want sense in the Composition, let my secretary be blamed for't, their's my hand.  Mom. 
Thanks gentle Niece, now i'll read it.  Eug. 
Why now, more than before I pray?  Mom. 
That you shall see strait, I cannot but suffer you to love if you do love and will requite your love.  Eug. 
Remember that requital was of your own putning it, but it shall be after my fashion I warrant ye.  Mom. 
Interrupt me no more, your love being mental needs no bodily requital, but in heart I embrace & repay it; my hand shall always sign the way to felicity, and myself knit with you in the bands of marriage ever walk with you, in it, and so God prosper our journey:  Eugenia. Eug. 
God's me life, 'tis not thus I hope.  Mom. 
By my life but it is Niece.  Eug. 
By my life but 'tis none of my deed then.  Mom. 
Do you use to set your hand to that which is not your deed, your hand is at it Niece, and if there be any law in England, you shall perform it too:  Eug. 

Why, this is plain dishonoured deceit.  
Does all your truest kindness end in law?   Mom. 

Have patience Niece, for whatsoe'er I say  
Only the laws of faith, and thy free love  
Shall join my friend and thee, or nought at all,  
By my friend's love, and by this kiss it shall.   Eug. 
Why, thus did false Accontius snare Cydippe.  Mom. 

Indeed dear love his wile was something like  
And then 'tis no unheard-of  
That was enacted in a god's Eye,  
Accontius worthy love feared not Diana  
Before whom he contrived this sweet deceit   Eug. 
Well there you have my hand, but I'll be sworn I never did thing so against my will.  Mom 

'twill prove the better madam, doubt it not.  
And to allay the billows of your blood,  
Raised with my motion bold and opposite  
Dear niece sup with me, and refresh your spirits:  
I have invited your companions  
With the two guests that dined with you to day,  
And will send for the old Lord Love-all  
The Captain, and his mates and (though at night)  
We will be merry as the morning Lark.   Eug. 
No, no my Lord, you will have Clarence there.  Mom. 

A 'las poor gentleman I must tell you now  
he's extreme sick, and was so when he writ  
Though he did charge me not to tell you so;  
And for the world he cannot come abroad.   Eug. 
Is this the man that without passion loves  Mom. 

I do not tell you he is sick with love;  
Or if he be 'tis wilful passion.  
Which he doth choose to suffer for your sake  
And could restrain his sufferance with a thought,  
Upon my life he will not trouble you;  
And therefore worthy niece fail not to come.   Eug. 
I will on that condition.  Mom. 
'tis performed: for were my friend well and could comfort me; I wood not now entreat your company, but one of you I must have, or I die, oh such a friend is worth a monarchy.  Exeunt. Enter Lord Furnifall. rudesby. Goosecap. Fowlweather. Bullaker. Fur. 
Nay my gallants I will tell you more.  All. 
Forth good my Lord.  Fur. 

The evening came and then our waxen stars  
Sparkled about the heavenly court of France.  
When I then young and radiant as the sun  
Give luster to those lamps, and curling thus  
My golden foretop, stepped into the presence,  
Where set with other princely dames I found  
The Countess of Lancalier and her niece  
Who as I told you cast so fixed an eye  
On my behaviours talking with the king:   All 
True my good Lord.  Fur. 

They rose when I came in, and all the lights  
burnt dim for shame, when I stood up and shined.   Foul 
O most passionate description Sir cut:  Rud. 
True of a candle's end.  Goos. 
The passingst description of a candle, that ever lived Sir cut:  Fur. 

Yet aimed I not at them, nor seemed to note  
What grace they did me, but found courtly cause  
To talk with an accomplished gentleman  
New come from italy, in quest of news  
I spoke Italian with him.   Rud. 
What so young?  Fur. 
O rarissime volte cadono nel parlar nostro familiar.  Foul. 
'slid 'a could speak it knight, at three year old.  Fur. 

Nay gentle Captain do not set me forth  
I love it not, in truth I love it not.   Foul. 
'slight my Lord but truth is truth you know.  Goos. 
I dare ensure your Lordship, Truth is truth, & I have heard in France, they speak French as well, as their mother tongue my Lord.  Fur. 

Why 'tis their mother tongue my noble knight  
But (as I tell you) I seemed not to note  
The lady's notes of me, but held my talk,  
with that Italionate Frenchman, and took time  
(Still as our conference served) to show my Courtship  
In the three quarter leg, and settled look,  
The quick kiss of the top of the forefinger  
And other such exploits of good Accost;  
All which the Ladies took into their eyes  
With such attention that their favours swarmed  
About my bosom, in my hat, mine ears,  
In scarves about my thighs, upon mine arms  
Thick on my wrists, and thicker on my hands,  
And still the less I sought, the more I found.  
All this I tell to this notorious end,  
That you may use your Courtship with less care  
To your coy mistresses; As when we strike  
A goodly salmon, with a little line  
We do not tug to hale her up by force  
For then our line wood break, and our hook lost;  
But let her careless play alongst the stream  
As you had left her, and she'll drown her self.   Foul 
A my life a most rich comparison.  Goos. 
Never stir, if it be not a richer Caparison, than my Lord my cousin wore at tilt, for that was broidered with nothing but moonshine i'th' the water, and this has salmons in't; by heaven a most edible Caparison.  Ru. 
Odious thou wouldst say, for Comparisons are odious.  Foul. 
So they are indeed sir cut: all but my Lords.  Goos. 
Be Caparisons odious Sir cut: what like flowers?  Rud. 
O ass they be odorous.  Goos. 
A botts of'at stinking word odorous, I can never hit on't,  Fur. 
And how like you my Court-counsel gallants ha:  Foul. 
Out of all proportion excellent my Lord: & believe it for Emphatical Courtship, your Lordship puts down all the Lords of the Court.  Fur. 
No good Captain no.  Foul. 
By France you do my Lord for Emphatical Courtship.  Fur. 
For Emphatical Courtship indeed I can do somewhat.  Foul. 
Then does your merry entertainment become you so festivally, that you have all the bravery of a Saint George's day about ye when you use it.  Fur. 
Nay that's too much in sadness Captain.  Goos. 
O good my Lord, let him praise you, whatsoe'er it costs your Lordship.  Foul. 
I assure your Lordship your merry behaviour does so festivally show upon you, that every high holiday when Ladies wood be most beautiful; every one wishes to God she were turned into such a little Lord as you, when you're merry.  Goos. 
By this fire they do my Lord, I have heard am.  Fur. 
Marry God forbid knight they should be turned into me; I had rather be turned into them a'mine honour.  Foul. 
Then for your Lordship's quips, & quick jests, why Gesta Romanorum were nothing to them a my virtue  Fur. 
Well, well, well, I will hear thee no more, I will hear thee no more, good Captain, thou'st an excellent wit, and thou shalt have Crowns a'mine honour, and now knights and Captain, the fool you told me off, do you all know him?  Goos. 
I know him best my Lord.  Fur. 
Do you Sir Gyles, to him then good knight, & be here with him, and here, and here, and here again; I mean paint him unto us Sir Gyles, paint him lively, lively now, my good knightly boy.  Goos. 
Why my good Lord? he will near be long from us, because we are all mortal you know.  Fur. 
Very true,  Goos. 
And as soon as ever we go to dinner, and supper together,  Rud. 
Dinner and supper together, whence that trow?  Goos. 
'a will come you in amongst us, with his Cloak buttoned, loose under his chin.  Rud. 
buttoned loose my Lord?  Goos. 
I me Lord buttoned loose still, and both the flaps cast over before, both his shoulders afore him.  Rud. 
Both shoulders afore him?  Fur. 
From before him he means; forth good Sir Gyles.  Goos. 
Like a potentate My Lord?  Rud. 
Much like a Potentate indeed.  Goos. 
For all the world like a Potentate S. Cut: ye know.  Rud, 
So Sir.  Goos. 
All his beard nothing but hair.  Cud. 
Or something else.  Goos. 
Or something else as you say.  Foul. 
Excellent good.  Goos. 
His melons, or his Apricots, Oranges always in an unclean hand kerchief very cleanly I warrant you my Lord.  Fur. 
A good neat fool Sir Gyles of mine honour.  Goos. 
Then his fine words that he sets them in, concatical, a fine aniseed wench fool upon ticket and so forth.  Fur. 
Passing strange words believe me,  Goos. 
know'th every man at the table, though he never saw him before, by sight and then will he fool you so finely my Lord, that he will make your heart ache, till your eyes run over.  Fur. 
The best that ever I heard, grey mercy good knight for thy merry description, Captain, I give thee twenty companies of commendations, never to be cashiered.  Enter Jack and Will on the other side. Am. 
Save your Lordship,  Fur. 
My pretty cast of Merlin's, what prophecies with your little masterships?  Ia. 
Things that cannot come to pass my Lord, the worse our fortunes.  Foul. 
Why what's the matter pages?  Rud. 
How now my lady's foisting hounds.  Goos. 
M. jack, M. Jack; how do ye M. William, frolic?  Will 
Not so frolic, as you left us Sir Gyles.  Fur. 
Why wags, what news bring you a God's name.  Ia. 
Heavy news indeed my Lord, pray pardon us.  Fur. 
Heavy news? not possible your little bodies could bring am then, unload those your heavy news I beseech ye?  Will. 
Why my Lord the fool we took for your Lord: is thought too wise for you, and we dare not present him,  Goos. 
'slid pages, you'll not cheats of our fool will ye?  Ia. 
Why sir Giles, he's too dogged and bitter for you in truth, we shall bring you a fool to make you laugh, and he shall make all the world laugh at us.  Will. 
I indeed sir Giles, and he knows you so well too  Giles 
Know me? slight he knows me no more than the beggar knows his dish.  Ia. 
Faith he begs you to be content sir Giles, for he will not come.  Goos. 
Beg me? slight I wood I had known that, other day, I thought I had met him in Paul's, & he had been anybody else but a pillar, I wood have run him through by heaven, beg me?  Foul. 
He begs you to be content sir Giles, that is, he prays you.  Goos. 
O does he praise me, than I commend him.  Fur. 
Let this unsuitable fool go sir Giles, we will make shift without him.  Goos. 
That we will a my word my Lord, and have him too for all this.  Wil. 
Do not you say so sir Giles, for to tell you true that fool is dead.  Goos. 
Dead? 'slight that cannot be man, I know he wood ha' writ to me on't had been so.  Fur. 
Quick or dead let him go sir Giles.  Ia. 
I my Lord, for we have better news for you to hearken after.  Fur. 
what are they my good Novations?  Ia. 
My Lord Momford entreats your Lordship and these knights and captain to accompany the cOUNTESS Eugenia and the other two Ladies at his house at supper tonight.  Wil. 
All desiring your Lo: to pardon them, for not eating your meat tonight.  Fur. 
withal my heart wags, and their's amends; my hearts, now set your courtship a'the last, a'the tainters, and prick up yourselves for the Ladies.  Goos. 
O brave sir Cut come let's prick up the Ladies:  Fur. 
And will not the knights two noble kinsmen be there?  Ia. 
Both will be their my Lord.  Fur. 
Why there's the whole knot of us then, and there shall we knock up the whole triplicity of your nuptials.  Goos. 
I'll make my Lord my cousin speak for me.  Foul. 
And your Lordship will be for me I hope.  Fur. 
With tooth and nail Captain, o' my Lord.  Rua. 
Hang am Tytts i'll pommel myself into am.  Ia. 
Your Lo: your cousin Sir Gyles has promised the Ladies they shall see you sow.  Goos. 
God's me, wood I might never be mortal if I do not carry my work with me.  Fur. 

Do so Sir Gyles, and withal use means  
To taint their high bloods with the shaft of Love,  
Sometimes a finger's motion wounds their minds;  
A jest, a gesture, or a pretty laugh.  
A voice, a present, ah, things done i'th' nick  
Wound deep, and sure, and let fly your gold  
And we shall nuptials have hold belly hold.   Goos. 
O rare Sir cut: we shall eat nutshells. hold belly hold  Exeunt. Ia. 
O pitiful knight, that knows not nuptials from nutshells.  Will. 
And now come port vous monsieur?  Bull 
port bien vous remercy.  Ia. 
We may see it indeed Sir, & you shall go afore with us.  Bul. 
No good monsieurs.  Will: 
Another Crash in my Lady's Cellar i'faith monsieur.  Bul. 
Remercy de bon ceur monsieurs.  Exeunt. Enter Clarence Momford. Mom. 

How now my friend does not the knowing beams  
That through thy common sense glance through thy eyes  
To read that letter, through thine eyes retire  
And warm thy heart with a triumphant fire?   Mom. 

My Lord I feel a treble happiness  
Mix in one soul, which proves how eminent  
Things endless are above things temporal,  
That are in bodies needfully confined;  
I cannot suffer their dementions pierced  
Where my immortal part admits expansure  
Even to the comprehension of two more  
Commixed substantially with her mere self.   Mom. 
As how my strange, and riddle-speaking friend?  Cla. 

As thus my Lord, I feel my own minds joy  
As it is separate from all other powers,  
And then the mixture of another soul  
Joined in direction to one end, like it,  
And thirdly the contentment I enjoy,  
As we are joined that I shall work that good  
In such a noble spirit as your niece,  
Which in myself I feel for absolute;  
Each good mind doubles his own free content  
When in another's use they give it vent.   Mom. 

Said like my friend, and that I may not wrong  
Thy full perfections with an emptier grace,  
Then that which show presents to thy conceits,  
In working thee a wife worse than she seems;  
I'll tell thee plain a secret which I know.  
My niece doth use to paint herself with white  
Whose cheeks are naturally mixed with red  
Either because she thinks pale-looks moves most:  
Or of an answerable nice affect  
To other of her modest qualities;  
Because she wood not with the outward blaze  
Of tempting beauty tangle wanton eyes;  
And so be troubled with their trumperies:  
Which construe as thou wilt. I make it known  
That thy free comment may examine it,  
As willinger to tell truth of my niece,  
Then in the least degree to wrong my friend.   Cla. 

A jealous part of friendship you unfold;  
For was it ever seen that any dame  
Wood change of choice a well mixed white and red  
For bloodless paleness, if she strived to move?  
Her painting then is to shun motion,  
But if she mended some defect with it  
Breeds it more hate than other ornaments;  
(Which to supply bare nature) Ladies wear?  
What an absurd thing is it to suppose;  
(If Nature made us either lame or sick,)  
We wood not seek for sound limbs, or for health  
By Art the Rector of confused Nature?  
So in a face if Nature be made lamer  
Than Art can make it, is it more offence  
To help her want there then in other limbs?  
Who can give instance where dames faces lost  
The privilege their other parts may boast.   Mom. 

But our most Court received Poets says  
That painting is pure chastity's abator.   Cla. 

That was to make up a poor rhyme to Nature.  
And far from any judgement it conferred  
For lightness comes from hearts, and not from looks  
And if inchastity possess the heart;  
Not painting doth not raze it, nor being clear  
Doth painting spot it,  
Omne bonum naturaliter pulchrum.  
For outward fairness bears the divine form,  
And moves beholders to the Act of love;  
And that which moves to love is to be wished  
And each thing simply to be wished is good.  
So I conclude mere painting of the face  
A lawful and a commendable grace.   Mom. 

What paradox dost thou defend in this  
And yet through thy clear arguments I see  
Thy speech is far exempt from flattery,  
And how illiterate custom grossly errs?  
Almost in all traditions she prefers.  
Since then the doubt I put thee of my niece,  
Checks not thy doubtless love, forth my dear friend,  
And to all force to those impressions,  
That now have carved her fantasy with love,  
I have invited her to supper here.  
And told her thou art most extremely sick.  
Which thou shalt counterfeit with all thy skill,   Cla: 
Which is exceeding small to counterfeit,  Mom. 

Practice a little, love will teach it thee,  
And then shall doctor Versey the physician,  
Come to thee while herself is in my house.  
With whom as thou conferest of thy disease,  
I'll bring my niece with all the Lords and Ladies.  
Within your hearing under feigned pretext,  
To show the pictures that hang near thy chamber,  
Where when thou hearst my voice, know she is there.  
And therefore speak that which may stir her thoughts,  
And make her fly into thy opened arms.  
Ladies whom true worth cannot move to ruth  
True lovers must deceive to show their truth   Exeunt. 
Finis Actus Quarti.   

ACTVS Quinti  

SCAeNA PRIMA.  Enter Momford, Furnifall, Tales, Kingcob, Rudesbie, Goosecap, Foulweather, Eugenia, Hippolita, Penelope, Winnifred. Mom. 
Where is Sir Gyles Goosecap here?  Goos. 
Here my Lord.  Mom. 
Come forward knight 'tis you that the Ladies admire at working a mine honour.  Goos: 
A little at once my Lord for idleness sake.  Fur: 
Sir Cut, I say, to her captain.  Penel: 
Come good servant let's see what you work.  Goos: 
Why look you mistress I am making a fine dry sea, full of fish, playing in the bottom, & here i'll let in the water so lively, that you shall hear it roar.  Eug: 
Not hear it Sir Giles.  Goos. 
Yes in sooth madam with your eyes.  Tal: 
I Lady; for when a thing is done so exceedingly to the life, as my knightly cozen does it, the eye oftentimes takes so strong a heed of it, that it cannot contain it alone, and therefore the ear seems to take part with it.  Hip: 
That's a very good reason my Lord.  Mom. 
What a jest it is, to hear how seriously he strives to make his foolish kinsman's answers wise ones.  Pen: 
What shall this be servant?  Goos: 
This shall be a great whale mistress, at all his bigness spouting huge hills of salt-water afore him, like a little water squirt, but you shall not need to fear him mistress, for he shallbe silk and gold, he shall do you no harm, and he be near so lively.  Pen. 
Thank you good servant.  Tal: 
Do not think Lady, but he had need tell you this aforehand for a mine honour, he wrought me the monster Caucasus so lively, that at the first sight I started at it.  Mom. 
The monster Caucasus my Lord? Caucasus is a mountain; Cacus you mean.  Tal: 
Cacus indeed my Lord, cry you mercy.  Goos: 
Here i'll take out your eye, and you will mistress.  Pen: 
No by my faith Servant 'tis better in  Goos. 
Why Lady, I'll but take it out in jest, in earnest.  Pen. 
No, something else there, good servant.  Goos. 
Why then here shall be a Camel, and he shall have horns, and he shall look (for all the world) like a maid without a husband.  Hip. 
O bitter sir Giles.  Tal. 
Nay he has a dry wit Lady I can tell ye.  Pen. 
He bobbed me there indeed my Lord.  Fur. 
Marry him sweet Lady, to answer his bitter bob.  King. 
So she may answer him with horns indeed.  Eug. 
See what a pretty work he wears in his boot hose.  Hip. 
Did you work them yourself sir Gyles, or buy them?  Goos. 
I bought am for nothing madam in th'exchange  Eug. 
Bought am for nothing.  Tal. 
Indeed madam in th'exchange they so honour him for his work that they will take nothing for any thing he buys on am; but where's the rich nightcap you wrought cozen? if it had not been too little for you, it was the best piece of work, that ever I saw.  Goos. 
Why my Lord, 'twas bog enough, when I wrought it, for I wore pantables than you know.  Tal. 
Indeed the warmer a man keeps his feet the less he needs wear upon his head.  Eug. 
You speak for your kinsman the best, that ever I heard my Lord.  Goos. 
But I believe madam, my Lord my cozen has not told you all my good parts.  Tal: 
I told him so I warrant you cozen.  Hip: 
What do you think he left out Sir Giles?  Goos: 
Marry madam I can take tobacco now, and I have bought glow-worms to kindle it withal, better than all the burning glasses i'th' world.  Eug. 
Glowworms sir Giles will they make it burn?  Goos. 
O odd madam I feed am with nothing but fire, a purpose, I'll be sworn they eat me five faggots a week in charcoal.  Tal: 
Nay he has the strangest devices Ladies that ever you heard I warrant ye.  Fur: 
That's a strange device in deed my Lord.  Hip: 
But your sowing sir Gyles is a more gentlewomanlike quality I assure you.  Pen: 
O far away, for now servant, you need never marry, you are both husband, and wife yourself.  Goos: 
Nay indeed mistress I wood fain marry for all that, and i'll tell you my reason, if you will.  Pen: 
Let's hear it good servant.  Goos: 
Why madam we have a great match at football towards, married men against bachelors, & the married men be all my friends, so I wood fain marry to take the married men's parts in truth.  Hip: 
The best reason for marriage that ever I heard sir Gyles.  Goos: 
I pray will you keep my work a little mistress; I must needs strain a little curtsy in truth.  Exit Sir Gyles. Hip: 
God's my life I thought he was a little to blame.  Rud: 
Come, come, you hear not me dame.  Fur: 
Well said sir Cut, to her now we shall hear fresh courting.  Hip: 
A 'las sir Cut, you are not worth the hearing, everybody says you cannot love, howsoever you talk on't.  Rud: 
Not love dame? 'slid what argument wouldst have of my love trow? let me look as red as scarlet afore I see thee, and when thou comest in sight if the sun of thy beauty, do not white me like a shepherd's holland I am a Jew to my Creator.  Hip. 
O excellent.  Rud. 
Let me burst like a Toad, if a frown of thy brow has not turned the very heart in my belly, and made me ready to be hanged by the heels for a fortnight to bring it to the right again.  Hip. 
You should have hanged longer Sir Cut: 'tis not right yet,  Rud. 
Zonnes, bid me cut off the best limb of my body for thy love, and I'll lay't in thy hand to prove it, dost think I am no Christian, have I not a Soul to save?  Hip. 
Yes 'tis to save yet I warrant it, and willbe while 'tis a soul if you use this.  Fur. 
Excellent Courtship of all hands, only my captains Courtship, is not heard yet, good madam give him favour to court you with his voice.  Eug. 
What should he Court me with all else my Lord?  Mom. 
Why, I hope madam there be other things to Court Ladies withal besides voices.  Fur. 
I mean with an audible sweet song madam.  Eug. 
With all my heart my Lord, if I shall be so much in debted to him.  Foul. 
Nay I will be indebted to your ears Lady for hearing me sound music.  Fur. 
Well done Captain, prove as it will now.  Enter Messenger. Me. 
My Lord Doctor Versey the Physician is come to see master Clarence.  Mom. 
Light and attend him to him presently.  Fur. 
To master Clarence? what is your friend sick?  Mom. 
Exceeding sick.  Ta. 
I am exceeding sorry.  King. 

Never was sorrow worthier bestowed  
than for the ill state of so good a man.   Pen. 
Alas poor gentleman; good my Lord let's see him.  Mom. 

Thanks gentle Lady, but my friend is loath  
To trouble Ladies since he cannot quit them.  
With any thing he hath that they respect.   Hip. 

Respect my Lord; I wood hold such a man  
In more respect than any Emperor  
For he could make me Empress of myself  
And in mine own rule comprehend the world.   Mom. 

How now young dame? what suddenly  
This speech hath silver hairs, and reverence asks  
And sooner shall have duty done of me  
Then any pomp in temporal Empery.   Hip. 
Good madam get my Lord to let us greet him.  Eug. 

Alas we shall but wrong and trouble him.  
His Contemplations greet him with most welcome.   Fur. 

I never knew a man of so sweet a temper  
So soft and humble, of so high a Spirit.   Mom. 

Alas my noble Lord he is not rich,  
Nor titles hath, nor in his tender cheeks  
The standing lake of Impudence corrupts,  
Hath nought in all the world, nor nought wood have,  
To grace him in the prostituted light.  
But if a man wood consort with a Soul  
Where all man's Sea of gall and bitterness  
Is quite evaporate with her holy flames,  
And in whose powers a dove-like Innocence  
Fosters her own deserts, and life and death,  
Runs hand in hand before them: All the Skies  
Clear and transparent to her piercing eyes,  
Than wood my friend be something, but till then  
A Cipher, nothing, or the worst of men.   Foul. 
Sweet Lord let's go visit him.  Enter Gooscappe. Goos. 
Pray good my Lord, what's that you talk on?  Mom. 
Are you come from your necessary business Sir Gyles? we talk of the visiting of my sick friend Clarence.  Goos. 
O good my Lord let's visit him, cause I know his brother.  Hip. 
Know his brother, nay then Count do not deny him.  Goos. 
Pray my Lord whether was eldest, he or his elder brother?  Mom. 
O! the younger brother eldest, while you live Sir Gyles.  Goos. 
I say so still my Lord, but I am so borne down with truth as never any knight i'th' world was I think.  Ta. 
A man wood think he speaks simply now; but indeed it is in the will of the parents, to make which child they will youngest, or eldest: For often we see the younger inherit, wherein he is eldest.  Eug. 
Your Logical wit my Lord is able to make any thing good.  Mom. 

Well come sweet Lords, & Ladies, let us spend  
The time till suppertime with some such sights  
As my poor house is furnished withal  
Pictures and jewels; of which implements  
It may be I have some will please you much.   Goos. 
Sweet Lord let's see them.  Exeunt. Enter Clarence and Doctor. Do. 
I think your disease Sir, be rather of the mind then the body.  Cla. 
Be there diseases of the mind Doctor?  Do. 
No question Sir, even as there be of the body.  Cla. 
And cures for them too?  Do. 
And cures for them too, but not by Physic.  Cla. 
You will have their diseases, griefs? will ye not?  Do. 
Yes, oftentimes.  Cla. 
And do not griefs ever rise out of passions?  Do. 
Evermore.  Cla. 
And do not passions proceed from corporal distempers?  Do. 
Not the passions of the mind, for the mind many times is sick, when the body is healthful.  Cla. 
But is not the minds-sickness of power to make the body sick?  Do. 
In time, certain.  Cla. 
And the bodies ill affections able to infect the mind?  Do. 
No question.  Cla. 
Then if there be such a natural commerce of Powers betwixt them, that the ill estate of the one offends the other, why should not the medicines for one cure the other?  Do. 
Yet it will not you see. Heimihi quod nullus amor est medicabilis herbis.  Cla. 
Nay then Doctor, since you cannot make any reasonable Connexion of these two contrarieties the mind and the body, making both subject to passion, wherein you confound the substances of both, I must tell you there is no disease of the mind but one, and that is Ignorance.  Do. 
Why what is love? is not that a disease of the mind?  Cla. 
Nothing so for it springs naturally out of the blood, nor are we subject to any disease, or sorrow, whose causes or effects simply and natively concern the body, that the mind by any means partaketh, nor are there any passions in the Soul, for where there are no affections, there are no passions: And Affectus your master Galen refers parts irascents, For illic est anima sentiens vbi sunt affectus: Therefore the Rational Soul cannot be there also.  Do. 
But you know we use to say, my mind gives me this or that, even in those addictions that concern the body.  Cla. 
We use to say so indeed, and from that use comes the abuse of all knowledge, and her practise, for when the object in question only concerns the state of the body? why should the soul be sorry or glad for it? if she willingly mix herself, than she is a fool, if of necessity and against her will, A slave, And so, far from that wisdom, and freedom that the Empress of Reason, and an eternal Substance should comprehend.  Do. 
Divinely spoken Sir, but very Paradoxically.  Enter Momford, Tales, Kingcob, Furnif; Rudes. Goos: Foul: Eugenia, Penelope, Hippolita, Winifrid. Mom. 

Who's there?  
ay, my Lord.   Mom. 
Bring hither the key of the gallery, methought I heard the Doctor and my friend.  Fur. 
I did so sure.  Mom. 

Peace then a while my Lord  
We will be bold to eavesdrop; For I know  
My friend is as respective in his chamber  
And by himself, of any thing he does  
As in a Critic Synods curious eyes  
Following therein Pythagoras' golden rule.  
Maximè omnium teipsum reverere.   Cla. 
Know you the Countess Eugenia Sir?  Do. 
Exceeding well Sir, she's a good learned scholar.  Cla. 
Then I perceive you know her well indeed.  Do. 
methinks you two should use much conference.  Cla. 

Alas sir, we do very seldom meet,  
For her estate, and mine are so unequal,  
And then her knowledge passeth mine so far  
That I hold much to sacred a respect,  
Of her high virtues to let mine attend them.   Do. 

Pardon me Sir, this humbleness cannot flow  
Out of your judgement but from passion.   Cla. 

Indeed I do account that passion,  
The very high perfection of my mind,  
That is excited by her excellence,  
And therefore willingly, and gladly feel it.  
For what was spoken of the most chaste Queen  
Of rich Pasiaca may be said of her.  
Antevenit sortem moribus virtutibus Annos,  
Sexum animo, morum Nobilitate Genus.   Do. 
A most excellent distich.  Mom. 

Come Lords away, let's not presume too much  
Of a good nature, not for all I have  
Wood I have him take knowledge of the wrong  
I rudely offer him: come then i'll show  
A few rare jewels to your honoured eyes,  
And then present you with a common supper.   Goos. 
Jewels my Lord, why is not this candlestick one of your jewels pray?  Mom. 
Yes marre is it Sir Gyles if you will.  Goos: 
'tis a most fine candlestick in truth, it wants nothing but the languages.  Pen. 
The language's servant, why the languages?  Goos. 
Why mistress; there was a Latin candlestick here afore, and that had the languages I am sure.  Ta. 
I thought he had a reason for it Lady.  Pen. 
I and a reason of the Sun too my Lord, for his father wood have been ashamed on't.  Exeunt. Do. 

Well master Clarence I perceive your mind  
Hath so incorporate itself with flesh  
And therein ratified that flesh to spirit,  
That you have need of no Physicians help.  
But good Sir even for holy virtues health  
And grace of perfect knowledge, do not make  
Those groundworks of eternity, you lay  
Means to your ruin, and short being here:  
For the too strict and rational Course you hold  
Will eat your body up; and then the world,  
Or that small point of it, where virtue lives  
Will suffer Diminution: It is now  
Brought almost to a simple unity,  
Which is, (as you well know) Simplicior puncto.  
And if that point fail once, why, then alas  
The unity must only be supposed,  
Let it not fail then, most men else have sold it;  
Though you neglect yourself, uphold it,  
So with my reverend love I leave you Sir.   Exit. Cla. 

Thanks worthy Doctor, I do amply quite you  
I prop poor virtue, that am propped myself,  
And only by one friend in all the world,  
For virtues only sake I use this wile,  
Which otherwise I wood despise and scorn,  
The world should sink and all the pomp she hugs  
Close in her heart, in her ambitious gripe  
Ere I sustain it, if this slenderest joint  
Moved with the worth that worldlings love so well  
Had power to save it from the throat of hell   He draws the Curtains and sits within them. Enter Eugenia, Penelope, Hippolita. Eug. 

Come on fair Ladies I must make you both  
Familiar witnesses of the most strange part  
And full of impudence that ere I played.   Hip. 
What's that good madam?  Eug. 

I that have been so more than maiden-nice  
To my dear Lord and uncle not to yield  
By his importunate suit to his friends love  
In look, or almost thought; will of myself  
Far past his expectation or his hope  
In action, and in person greet his friend,  
And comfort the poor gentleman's sick state.   ' Pen. 
Is this a part of so much Impudence?  Eug. 
No but I fear me it will stretch to more  Hip. 
Mary madam the more the merrier.  Eug. 
Marry Madam? what should I marry him?  Hip. 

You take the word methinks as tho you would,  
And if there be a thought of such kind heat  
In your cold bosom, wood to God my breath  
Might blow it to the flame of your kind heart.   Eug. 

God's precious Lady, know ye what you say,  
Respect you what I am, and what he is,  
What the whole world wood say, & what great Lords  
I have refused and might as yet embrace,  
And speak you like a friend, to wish me him?   Hip. 

Madam I cast all this, and know your choice  
Can cast it quite out of the crystal doors  
Of your judicial eyes: I am but young  
And be it said without all pride I take,  
To be a maid, I am one, and indeed  
Yet in my mother's womb to all the wiles  
weaned in the looms of greatness, and of state:  
And yet even by that little I have learned  
Out of continual conference with you,  
I have cried harvest home of thus much judgement  
In my green sowing time, that I could place  
The constant sweetness of good Clarence mind,  
Filled with his inward wealth and nobleness;  
(Look madam here,) when others outward trash  
should be contented to come under here.   Pen. 
And so say I upon my maiden head.  Eug. 

'tis well said Ladies, thus we differ then,  
I to the truth-wise, you to worldly men:  
And now sweet dames observe an excellent jest  
(At least in my poor jesting.) Th' Earl my uncle  
Will miss me strait, and I know his close drift  
Is to make me, and his friend Clarence meet  
By some device or other he hath plotted.  
Now when he seeks us round about his house  
And cannot find us, for we may be sure  
He will not seek me in his sick friends chamber,  
(I have at all times made his love so strange,)  
He straight will think, I went away displeased,  
Or heartily careless of his heartiest suit.  
And then I know there is no grief on earth  
Will touch his heart so much, which I will suffer  
To quite his late good pleasure wrought on me,  
For i'll be sworn in motion and progress  
Of his friend's suit, I never in my life  
Wrestled so much with passion or was moved  
To take his firm love in such jealous part.   Hip. 

This is most excellent madam, and will prove  
A niecelike, and a noble friends Revenge.   Eug. 

Bold in a good cause, then let's greet his friend,  
Where is this sickly gentleman at his book?  
Now in good troth I wood these books were burnt  
That rap men from their friends before their time,  
How does my uncles friend, no other name  
I need give him, to whom I give myself,   Cla. 

O madam let me rise that I may kneel,  
And pay some duty to your sovereign grace.   Hip: 

Good Clarence do not work yourself disease  
My Lady comes to ease and comfort you.   Pen: 
And we are handmaids to her to that end.  Cla: 

Ladies my heart will break, if it be held  
Within the verge of this presumptuous chair.   Eug. 

Why, Clarence is your judgement bent to show  
A common lovers passion? let the world,  
That lives without a heart, and is but show,  
stand on her empty, and empoisoned form,  
I know thy kindness, and have seen thy heart,  
Cleft in my uncles free, and friendly lips  
And I am only now to speak and act,  
The rites due to thy love: oh I could weep.  
A bitter show of tears for thy sick state,  
I could give passion all her blackest rites.  
And make a thousand vows to thy deserts,  
But these are common, knowledge is the bond,  
The seal and crown of our united minds.  
And that is rare, and constant, and for that,  
To my late written hand I give thee this,  
See heaven, the soul thou gav'st is in this hand.  
This is the knot of our eternity,  
Which fortune, death, nor hell, shall ever lose.   Enter Bullaker. lack Wil. Ia: 
What an unmannerly trick is this of thy cOUNTESS, to give the noble count her uncle the slip thus?  Will 
Unmannerly, you villain? O that I were worthy to wear a dagger to any purpose for thy sake?  Bul: 
Why young gentlemen, utter your anger with your fists.  Wil. 
That cannot be man, for all fists are shut you know, and utter nothing, and beside I do not think my quarrel just for my Lady's protection in this cause, for I protest she does most abominable miscarry herself.  Ia: 
Protest you saucy jack you, I should do my country and courtship good service to beat thy colt's teeth out of thy head, for suffering such a reverend word to pass their guard; why, the oldest courtier in the world man, can do no more than protest,  Bul. 
Indeed page if you were in France, you wood be broken upon a wheel for it, there is not the best Duke's son in France dares say I protest, till he be one and thirty year old at least, for the inheritance of that word is not to be possessed before.  Will 
Well, I am sorry for my presumption then, but more sorry for my Ladies, marry most sorry for thee good Lord Momford, that will make us most of all sorry for ourselves, if we do not find her out.  lady 
Why alas what should we do? all the stars of our heaven see, we seek her as fast as we can, if she be crept into a rush we will seek her out or burn her.  Enter Momford. Mom. 

villains where are your Ladies, seek them  
Out; hence, home ye monsters, nad still keep you there 
Exeunt. Pages.   
Where levity keeps, in her in constant Sphere,  
A Away you precious villains, what a plague,  
Of varried tortures is a woman's heart?  
How like a peacocks tail with different lights,  
They differ from themselves; the very air  
altars the aspen humours of their bloods.  
Now excellent good, now superexcellent bad.  
Some excellent good, some? but one of all:  
Wood any ignorant baby serve her friend,  
Such an uncivil part? 'sblood what is learning?  
An artificial cobweb to catch flies,  
And nourish Spiders, could she cut my throat,  
W with her departure I had been her calf,  
And made a dish at supper for my guests  
Of her kind charge, I am beholding to her,  
Puff, is there not a feather in this air  
A man may challenge for her? what? a feather?  
So easy to be seen; so apt to trace;  
In the weak flight of her unconstant wings?  
A mote man at the most, that with the sun,  
Is only seen, yet with his radiant eye,  
we cannot single so from other motes,  
To say this mote is she, passion of death,  
She wrongs me past a death, come, come my friend,  
Is mine, she not her own, and there's an end.   Eug. 
Come uncle shall we go to supper now?  Mom. 
zounds to supper? what a dolour is this?  Eug. 
A 'las what ails my uncle, Ladies see.  Hip. 
Is not your Lordship well?  Pen: 
Good speak my Lord.  Mom. 
A sweet plague on you all, ye witty rogues have you no pity in your villainous jests, but run a man quite from his fifteen wits?  Hip. 
Will not your Lordship see your friend, and niece?  Mom. 

Wood I might sink if I shame not to see her  
Tush 'twas a passion of pure jealousy,  
I'll now make her now amends with Adoration.  
God's of learning and of constancy,  
Of friendship and every other virtue.   Eug. 

Come, come, you have abused me now I know  
And now you plaster me with flatteries.   Pen. 
My Lord the contract is knit fast betwixt them  Mom. 

Now all heavens choir of Angels sing Amen,  
And bless these true borne nuptials with their bliss,  
And Niece though you have Cozened me in this,  
I'll uncle you yet in another thing,  
And quite deceive your expectation.  
For where you think you have contracted hearts  
With a poor gentleman, he is sole heir  
To all my Earldom, which to you and yours  
I freely, and for ever here bequeath;  
Call forth the Lords, sweet Ladies let them see  
This sudden and most welcome Novelty;  
But cry you mercy Niece, perhaps your modesty  
Will not have them partake this sudden match.   Eug. 

O uncle think you so, I hope I made  
My choice with too much judgement to take shame  
Of any form I shall perform it with.   Mom. 
Said like my Niece, and worthy of my friend.  Enter Furnifal, Tal: King: Goos: Rud: Foul: Ia: Will, Bullaker. Mom: 

My Lords, take witness of an absolute wonder,  
A marriage made for virtue, only virtue,  
My friend, and my dear niece are man and wife.   Fur. 

A wonder of mine honour, and withal  
A worthy precedent for all the world;  
Heaven bless you for it Lady, and your choice.   Ambo 
Thanks my good Lord.  Ta. 

An Accident that will make policy blush,  
And all the Compliments of wealth and state,  
In the successful and unnumbered Race  
That shall flow from it, filled with fame and grace.   Kin. 
So may it speed dear Countess, worthy Clarence.  Ambo 
Thanks good Sir Cutberd.  Fur. 

Captain be not dismayed, I'll marry thee,  
For while we live, thou shalt my consort be.   Foul. 

By France my Lord, I am not grieved a whit,  
Since Clarence hath her; he hath been in France,  
And therefore merits her if she were better.   Mom. 

Then knights i'll knit your happy nuptial knots,  
I know the lady's minds better than you;  
Though my rare Niece hath chose for virtue only,  
Yet some more wise than some, they choose for both  
Virtue, and wealth.   Eug. 

Nay uncle than I plead  
This goes with my choice, Some more wise than some,  
For only virtues choice is truest wisdom.   Mom. 

Take wealth, & virtue both amongst you then,  
They love ye knights extremely, and Sir Cut:  
I give the chaste Hippolita to you,  
Sir Gyles this Lady;   Pen. 

Nay stay there my Lord,  
I have not yet proved all his knightly parts  
I hear he is an excellent Poet too.   Tal. 

That I forgot sweet Lady; good Sir Gyles  
Have you no sonnet of your pen about ye?   Goos. 
Yes, that I have I hope my Lord my cozen.  Fur. 
Why, this is passing fit.  Goos. 
I'd be loath to go without paper about me against my mistress, hold my work again, a man knows not what need he shall have perhaps.  Mom. 
Well remembered a mine honour Sir Gyles:  Goos. 
Pray read my Lord, I made this sonnet of my mistress.  Rud. 
Nay read thyself man.  Goos. 
No in truth Sir Cut: I cannot read mine own hand.  Mom. 
Well I will read it.  

Three things there be which thou shouldst only crave,  
Thou pomeroy, or thou apple of mine eye;  
Three things there be, which thou shouldst long to have,  
And for which three, each modest dame wood cry,  
Three things there be, that should thine anger suage,  
An English mastiff, and a fine french page.   Rud. 
'sblood Ass, there's but two things, thou sham'st thyself.  
Why Sir cut: that's Poeticalicentia, the verse wood have been too long, and I had put in the third, 'Slight you are no Poet I perceive.  Pen. 
'tis excellent servant.  Mom. 

Keep it Lady then,  
And take the only knight of mortal men.   Goos. 
Thank you good my Lord as much as though you had given me twenty shillings in truth, now I may take the married men's parts at football.  Mom. 

All comforts crown you all; & you Captain  
For merry form sake let the willow crown;  
A wreath of willow bring us hither strait.   Fur. 

Not for a world should that have been forgot  
Captain it is the fashion, take this crown.   Foul. 

With all my heart my Lord, and thank ye too  
I will thank any man that gives me crowns.   Mom. 

Now will we consecrate our ready supper  
To honoured Hymen as his nuptial rite,  
In form whereof first dance fair Lords and Ladies  
And after sing, so we will sing and dance,  
And to the skies our virtuous joys advance.   The Measure. 
Now to the song, and do this garland grace.  

Canto.  
Willow, willow, willow.  
our captain goes down:  
Willow, willow, willow,  
his valour doth crown.  
The rest with Rosemary we grace,  
O Hymen let thy lights  
With richest rays guild every face,  
and feast hearts with delights.  
Willow, willow, willow,  
we chant to the skies:  
And with black and yellows,  
give courtship the prize.     
FINIS.