Mom.  Nay then it must instantly foorth.  This kinde conjuration even fires it out of me; and (to be short) gather all your judgment togeather, for here it comes.  Neece, Clarence, Clarence, rather my soule then my friend Clarence, of too substantiall a worth, to have any figures cast about him (notwithstanding, no other woman with Empires could stirre his affections) is with your vertues most extreamely in love; and without your requitall dead.  And with it Fame shall sound this golden disticke through the World of you both.

    Non illo melior quisquam, nec amantior aequi
    Vir fuit, aut illa reverentior ulla Deorum[17].

Eug.  Ay me poore Dame, O you amase me Vncle, 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 triall) you esteeme me.  Have I rid all this Circuite to levie the powers of your Iudgment, that I might not proove their strength too sodainly with so violent a charge; And do they fight it out in white bloud, and show me their hearts in the soft Christall of teares?

Eug.  O uncle you have wounded your selfe in charging me that I should shun Iudgement as a monster, if it would not weepe; I place the poore felicity of this World in a woorthy friend, and to see him so unworthily revolted, I shed not the teares of my Brayne, but the teares of my soule.  And if ever nature made teares th’effects of any worthy cause, I am sure I now shed them worthily.

Mom.  Her sensuall powers are up yfaith, I have thrust her soule quite from her Tribunall.  This is her Sedes vacans when her subjects are priviledged to libell against her, and her friends.  But weeps my kinde Neece for the wounds of my friendship?  And I toucht in friendship for wishing my friend doubled in her singular happinesse?

Eug.  How am I doubl’d? when my honour, and good name, two essentiall parts of me; would bee lesse, and loste?

Mom.  In whose Iudgment?

Eug.  In the judgment of the World.

Mom.  Which is a fooles boult. Nihil a virtute nec a veritate remotius, quam vulgaris opinio:  But my deare Neece, it is most true that your honour, and good name tendred, as they are the species of truth, are worthily two esentiall parts of you; But as they consist only in ayrie titles, and corrupteble bloud (whose bitternes sanitas & non nobilitas efficit) and care not how many base, and execrable acts they commit, they touch you no more then they touch eternity.  And yet shall no nobility you have in eyther, be impaired neither.

Eug.  Not to marry a poore 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 adorn’d with the exactest complements belonging to everlasting noblenesse.