Eug.  No, no my Lord, you will have Clarence there.

Mom.  Alas poore Gentleman, I must tell you now,
He’s extreame sicke, and was so when he writt,
Tho he did charge me not to tell you so;
And for the World he cannot come abroade.

Eug.  Is this the man that without passion loves?

Mom.  I doe not tell you he is sicke with love;
Or if he be, tis wilfull passion. 
Which he doth choose to suffer for your sake,
And cood restraine his sufferance with a thought,
Vppon my life, he will not trouble you;
And therefore, worthy Neece, faile not to come.

Eug.  I will on that condition.

Mom.  Tis perform’d. 
For were my friend well, and cood comfort me,
I wood not now intreate your company,
But one of you I must have, or I die: 
Oh such a friend is worth a monarchy.

[Exeunt.

(SCENE 2.)

Enter Lord Furnifall, Rudsbie, Goosecappe, Foulweather, Bullaker.

Fur.  Nay, my gallants, I will tell you more.

All.  Forth, good my Lord.

Fur.  The evening came, and then our waxen starres
Sparkled about the heavenly Court of Fraunce,
When I then young and radiant as the sunne
Gave luster to those lamps, and curling thus
My golden foretoppe stept into the presence,
Where set with other princely Dames I found
The Countesse of Lancalier, and her neece,
Who as I told you cast so fix’d 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 Burn’d dim for shame, when I stood up, and shin’d.

Foul.  O most passionate description, sir Cutt.

Rud.  True, of a candles end.

Goos.  The passingst description of a candle that ever lived, sir Cutt.

Fur.  Yet aym’d I not at them, nor seemed to note
What grace they did me, but found courtly cause
To talke with an accomplisht gentleman
New come from Italy; in quest of newes
I spake Italian with him.

Rud.  What so young?

Fur. O rarissime volte cadono nel parlar nostro familiare.

Foul.  Slid, a cood speake it, Knight, at three yeeres old.

Fur.  Nay, gentle Captaine, doe 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, and I have heard in France, they speake French as well as their mother tongue, my Lord.