Mom.  Villaines, where are your Ladies? seeke them out. 
Hence, home ye monsters, and still keepe you there
Where levity keepes, in her inconstant Spheare. [Exeunt Pages. 
Away, you pretious villaines! what a plague,
Of varried tortures is a womans hart? 
How like a peacockes taile with different lightes,
They differ from themselves; the very ayre
Alter the aspen humors of their bloods. 
Now excellent good, now superexcellent badd: 
Some excellent good, some? but one of all: 
Wood any ignorant babie serue her friend
Such an uncivill part?  Sblood what is learning? 
An artificiall cobwebbe to catch flies,
And nourish Spiders? cood she cut my throate
With her departure, I had byn her calfe,
And made a dish at supper for my guests
Of her kinde charge; I am beholding to her. 
Puffe, is there not a feather in this ayre
A man may challenge for her? what? a feather? 
So easie to be seene, so apt to trace,
In the weake flight of her unconstant wings? 
A mote, man, at the most, that with the Sunne,
Is onely seene, 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 owne, and theres an end.

Eug.  Come uncle shall we goe to supper now?

Mom.  Zounes to supper? what a dorr is this?

Eug.  Alas what ailes my uncle?  Ladies, see.

Hip.  Is not your Lordshippe well?

Pene.  Good, speake my Lord.

Mom.  A sweete plague on you all, ye witty rogues; Have you no pitty in your villanous jests, But runne a man quite from his fifteene witts?

Hip.  Will not your Lordship see your friend, and Neece.

Mom.  Wood I might sinke if I shame not to see her
Tush t’was a passion of pure jealousie,
Ile make her now amends with Adoration. 
Goddesse of learning, and of constancy,
Of friendshippe, and of everie other vertue.

Eug.  Come, come you have abus’de me now, I know, And now you plaister me with flatteries.

Pene.  My Lord, the contract is knit fast betwixt them.

Mom.  Now all heavens quire of Angels sing Amen,
And blesse theis true borne nuptials with their blisse;
And Neece tho you have cosind me in this,
Ile uncle you yet in an other thing,
And quite deceive your expectation. 
For where you thinke you have contracted harts
With a poore gentleman, he is sole heire
To all my Earledome, which to you and yours
I freely and for ever here bequeath. 
Call forth the Lords, sweet Ladies; let them see
This sodaine, and most welcome Noveltie;
But cry you mercy, Neece, perhaps your modesty
Will not have them partake this sodaine match.

Eug.  O uncle, thinke you so?  I hope I made My choyce with too much Judgment to take shame Of any forme I shall performe it with.