_Hip_. Alas, sir _Cut_, you are not worth the hearing, every body saies you cannot love, howsoever you talke on't. _Rud_. Not love, dame? slidd what argument woodst have of my love, tro? lett me looke as redde as Scarlet a fore I see thee, and when thou comst in sight if the sunne of thy beauty, doe not white me like a shippards holland, I am a _Iewe_ to my Creator. _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.