Enter Momford.

Mom.  I do assure ye not, sir, not yet, nor yet, my deepe, and studious friend; not yet, musicall Clarence.

Cla.  My Lord?

Mom.  Nor yet, thou sole divider of my Lordshippe.

Cla.  That were a most unfit division, And farre 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 yeeres, and halfe those yeeres
Hast bin my bed-fellow; long time before
This unseene thing, this thing of naught indeed,
Or Atome cald my Lordshippe shind in me,
And yet thou mak’st thy selfe as little bould
To take such kindnes, as becomes the Age
And truth of our indissolable love,
As our acquaintance sprong but yesterday;
Such is thy gentle, and too tender spirit.

Cla.  My Lord, my want of Courtship makes me feare
I should be rude, and this my meane estate
Meetes with such envie, and detraction,
Such misconstructions and resolud misdoomes
Of my poore worth, that should I be advaunce’d
Beyond my unseene lowenes, but one haire,
I should be torne in peeces with the Spirits
That fly in ill-lungd tempests through the world,
Tearing the head of vertue from her shoulders
If she but looke out of the ground of glorie. 
Twixt whom and me, and every worldly fortune
There fights such sowre, and curst Antipathy,
So waspish and so petulant a Starre,
That all things tending to my grace or good
Are ravisht from their object, as I were
A thing created for a wildernes,
And must not thinke of any place with men.

Mom.  O harke you Sir, this waiward moode of yours
Must sifted be, or rather rooted out. 
Youle no more musick Sir?

Cla.  Not now, my Lord.

Mom.  Begon my masters then to bedd, to bedd.

Cla.  I thanke you, honest friends.

[Exeunt Musicians.

Mo.  Hence with this book, and now, Mounsieur Clarence, me thinks plaine and prose friendship would do excellent well betwixt us:  come thus, Sir, or rather thus, come.  Sir, tis time I trowe that we both liv’d like one body, thus, and that both our sides were slit, and concorporat with Organs fit to effect an individuall passage even for our very thoughts; suppose we were one body now, and I charge you beleeve it; whereof I am the hart, and you the liver.

Cla.  Your Lordship might well make that division[12], if you knew the plaine song.

Mo.  O Sir, and why so I pray?

Cla.  First because the heart, is the more worthy entraile, being the first that is borne, and moves, and the last that moves, and dies; and then being the Fountaine of heate too:  for wheresoever our heate does not flow directly from the hart to the other Organs there, their action must of necessity cease, and so without you I neither would nor could live.