SCUD. _legit_. "Whereas you write, my fortune and my birth, Made above yours, may be a real cause That I must leave you, know, thou worthiest man, Thou hast a soul whose plenteous wealth supplies All the lean wants blind chance hath dealt to thee. Yet could I think the gods from all their store, Who ne'er knew indigence unto their will, Would out of all their stock of virtue left, Or out of all new graces they can make, Make such another piece as Scudmore is, Then might he justly fear; but otherwise Sooner the masculine element of fire Shall flame his pyramids down to the earth; Sooner her mountains shall swell up to heaven, Or softest April showers quench fires in hell: Sooner shall stars from this circumference Drop like false fiery exhalation, Than I be false to vows made unto thee, In whom aught near a fault I ne'er could see, But that you doubted once my constancy. Yours through the world, and to the end of time. BELLAFRONT." SCUD. _Loqui, ut raptus_. If what I feel I could express in words, Methinks I could speak joy enough to men To banish sadness from all love for ever! O thou, that reconcil'st the faults of all That frothy sex, and in thy single self Confin'st--nay, hast engross'd, virtue enough To frame a spacious world of virtuous women, Hadst thou been the beginning of thy sex, I think the devil in the serpent's skin Had wanted cunning to o'ercome thy goodness, And all had liv'd and died in innocency-- The white original creation! [_Knocking within._ Who's there? Come in. _Enter_ NEVILL. NEV. What, up already, Scudmore! Ne'er a wench With thee? Not [e'en] thy laundress? SCUD. Good morrow, my dear Nevill. NEV. What's this? A letter? Sure, it is not so-- A letter written to Hieronimo.[10] SCUD. By heaven! you must excuse me. Come, I know, You will not wrong my friendship and your manners To tempt me so. NEV. Not for the world, my friend. Farewell, good morrow. [_Exiturus._ SCUD. Nay, sir, neither must you Depart in anger from this friendly hand. I swear I love you better than all men, Equally with all virtue in the world; Yet this would be a key to lead you to A prize of that importance---- NEV. Worthy friend, I leave you not in anger: what d'ye mean? Nor am I of that inquisitive nature fram'd To thirst to know your private businesses. Why, they concern not me: if they be ill And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know 'em; If good, they be so, though I know 'em not. Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong To covet to participate affairs Of that near touch, which your assured love Doth think not fit, or dares not trust me with.