THEO. Our friendship, fairest lady, is more old, And he more true, than that his heart so long Should be unknown to me. I'll not be long, Before I visit him to let him know, What hour shall make him happy in your sight. My longer stay, sweet lady, might be more Observ'd and pry'd into: let me be bold To leave you now, but be your servant ever. ART. All happiness attend you, worthy sir. [_Exit_ THEODORE. Would I myself might go as well as send, And see that seeming solitary place, That place of woe. Sure, it would be to me No desert wood, while Eugeny were there, But a delightful palace. Here at home, The more that company comes in, the more I am alone, methinks. Wanting that object On which my heart is fix'd, I cannot be Possess'd of anything. Nothing can be My comfort but a hope that these sad clouds Of our misfortunes will at last blow over. But mischief's like a cockatrice's eyes-- Sees first and kills, or is seen first and dies. _Enter_ EUPHUES. EUPH. How dost thou, coz? I wrote a letter for thee To Earthworm's son: has the young ten-i'-th'-hundred Been here? ART. I thank you, cousin; the gentleman Was with me, and but newly parted hence. EUPH. H' has got a title then by coming hither: But he may be a gentleman; his wealth Will make it good. ART. His virtues make it good: Believe it, cousin, there's a wealthy mind Within that plain outside. EUPH. How's this? Have your quick eyes found out his worth already? ART. They must be blind that cannot, when they know him. Well, cousin, you may laugh at me. EUPH. By no means; I know your judgment's good. ART. As good as 'tis, It must content a woman. When you know him, You'll find a man that may deserve your friendship, And far above all slighting. EUPH. I am sorry I came not soon enough: but prythee, cousin, What are the ways have taken thee so soon? ART. What taking do you mean? You promis'd me You would not ask the cause I sent for him, Though you shall know hereafter. But I hope You do not think I am in love with him? EUPH. I'll look upon the man, and then resolve you. ART. Well, do; perhaps you'll know him better, then: He knows you well. EUPH. Me! Has he told you how? ART. Did you ne'er meet one Theodore at Venice? EUPH. Can this be he? ART. Yes, very well; although He be old Earthworm's son, and make no shew At home. EUPH. And have you found out so much worth In him already? ART. How do you esteem him? We women well may err. EUPH. I smell a rat; And, if my brain fail not, have found out all Your drifts, though ne'er so politicly carri'd. ART. I know your brain, cousin, is very good; But it may fail.