_Goos_. Beg me? slight, I wood I had knowne that, tother Day, I thought I had met him in Paules, and he had bin any body else but a piller, I wood have runne him through by heaven: beg me? _Foul_. He begges you to be content, sir _Gyles_; that is, he praies you. _Goos_. O does he praise me then I commend him. _Fur_. Let this unsutable foole goe, sir _Gyles_; we will make shift without him. _Goos_. That we wil, a my word, my Lord, and have him too for all this. _Wil_. Doe not you say so, sir _Gyles_, for to tell you true that foole is dead. _Goos_. Dead? slight that can not be, man; I know he wood ha writ to me ant had byn so. _Fur_. Quick or dead, let him goe, sir _Giles_. _Ia_. I, my Lord, for we have better newes for you to harken after. _Fur_. What are they, my good Novations? _Ia_. My Lord _Momford_ intreates your Lordship, and these knights and captaine to accompany the Countesse _Eugenia_, and the other two Ladies, at his house at supper to night. _Wil_. All desiring your Lo: to pardon them, for not eating your meat to night. _Fur_. Withall my hart wagges, and thers amends; my harts, now set your courtshippe a' the last, a the tainters, and pricke up your selves for the Ladies. _Goos_. O brave sir _Cut_: come lets pricke up the Ladies. _Fur_. And will not the Knights two noble kinsemen be there? _Ia_. Both will be there, my Lord. _Fur_. Why theres the whole knot of us then, and there shall we knocke up the whole triplicitie of your nuptials. _Goos_. Ile make my Lord my Cosin speake for me. _Foul_. And your Lordship will be for me I hope. _Fur_. With tooth and naile Captaine, a my Lord[ship]. _Rud_. Hang am Tytts! ile pommell my selfe into am. _Ia_. Your Lo: your Cosin, sir _Gyles_, has promist the Ladies they shall see you sowe. _Goos_. Gods me, wood I might never be mortall, if I doe not carry my worke with me. _Fur_. Doe so sir _Gyles_, and withall use meanes To taint their high blouds with the shafte of Love. Sometimes a fingers motion wounds their mindes: A jest, a jesture, or a prettie laugh: A voyce, a present; ah, things done ith nicke Wound deepe, and sure; and let flie your gold, And we shall nuptialls have, hold, belly, hold. _Goos_. O rare sir _Cut_. we shall eate nut-shells: hold, belly, hold! [_Exeunt_. _Ia_.--O pittifull Knight, that knowes not nuptialls from nut-shells! _Wil_. And now _Comme porte vous, monsieur_! _Bul_. _Porte bien, vous remercy_. _Ia_. We may see it indeed, Sir, and you shall goe afore with us. _Bul_. No good _monsieurs_. _Wil_. Another Crashe in my Ladies Celler yfaith, _monsieur_. _Bul_. _Remercy de bon ceur, monsieurs_. [_Exeunt_. (SCENE 3.) _Enter Clarence, Momford_. _Mom_. How now, my friend? does not the knowing beames, That through thy common sence glaunce through thy eyes, To read that letter, through thine eyes retire And warme thy heart with a triumphant fire?