Hip.  O excellent!

Rud.  Let me burst like a Tode, if a frowne of thy browe has not turned the very heart in my bellie and made mee readie to be hangd by the heeles for a fortnight to bring it to the right againe.

Hip.  You shood have hangd longer sir Cut:  tis not right yet.

Rud.  Zonnes, bid me cut off the best lymme of my body for thy love, and ile lai’t in thy hand to prove it.  Doost thinke I am no Christian, have I not a soule to save?

Hip.  Yes tis to save yet I warrant it, and wilbe while tis a soule if you use this.

Fur.  Excellent Courtship of all hands, only my Captaines Courtship, is not heard yet.  Good Madam give him favour to court you with his voyce.

Eug.  What shood he Court me withall else, my Lord?

Mom.  Why, I hope Madam there be other things to Court Ladies withall besides voyces.

Fur.  I meane with an audible sweete song Madam.

Eug.  With all my heart my Lord, if I shall bee so much indebted to him.

Foul.  Nay I will be indebted to your eares Ladie for hearing me sound musicke.

Fur.  Well done Captaine, prove as it wil now.

    Enter Messenger.

Me.  My Lord, Doctor Versey the Physitian is come to see master Clarence.

Mom.  Light, and attend him to him presently.

Fur.  To Master Clarence? what is your friend sicke?

Mom.  Exceeding sicke.

Tal.  I am exceeding sorrie.

King.  Never was sorrow worthier bestowed Then for the ill state of so good a man.

Pene.  Alas poore Gentleman; good my Lord lets see him.

Mom.  Thankes gentle Ladie, but my friend is loth To trouble Ladies since he cannot quitt them.  With anything he hath that they respect.

Hip.  Respect, my Lord!  I wood hold such a man
In more respect then any Emperour: 
For he cood make me Empresse of my selfe
And in mine owne rule comprehend the World.

Mom.  How now young Dame? what sodainly inspird? 
This speech hath silver haires, and reverence askes,
And sooner shall have duty done of me,
Then any pompe in temperall Emperie.

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 cheekes
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 soule
Where all mans Sea of gall and bitternes
Is quite evaporate with her holy flames,
And in whose powers a Dove-like innocence
Fosters her own deserts, and life and death
Runnes hand in hand before them, all the Skies
Cleere, and transparent to her piercing eyes,
Then wood my friend be something, but till then
A Cipher, nothing, or the worst of men.