_Om._ Thankes to your Highnesse; ever live your Highnesse! _Exeunt._ _Baligny._ Better a man were buried quicke then live A propertie for state and spoile to thrive. _Exit._ LINENOTES: _Aversus._ In left margin in Q. 51 _Cacusses_. Ed.; Q, Caucusses. [SCÆNA QUINTA. _A Country Road, between Cambrai and Paris._] _Enter Clermont, Mail[lard], Chal[on] with Souldiers._ _Maillard._ Wee joy you take a chance so ill, so well. _Clermont._ Who ever saw me differ in acceptance Of eyther fortune? _Chalon._ What, love bad like good! How should one learne that? _Cler._ To love nothing outward, Or not within our owne powers to command; 5 And so being sure of every thing we love, Who cares to lose the rest? if any man Would neyther live nor dye in his free choise, But as hee sees necessitie will have it (Which if hee would resist, he strives in vaine) 10 What can come neere him that hee doth not well? And if in worst events his will be done, How can the best be better? all is one. _Mail._ Me thinkes tis prettie. _Cler._ Put no difference If you have this, or not this; but as children 15 Playing at coites ever regard their game, And care not for their coites, so let a man The things themselves that touch him not esteeme, But his free power in well disposing them. _Chal._ Prettie, from toyes! _Cler._ Me thinkes this double disticke 20 Seemes prettily too to stay superfluous longings: "Not to have want, what riches doth exceede? Not to be subject, what superiour thing? He that to nought aspires, doth nothing neede; Who breakes no law is subject to no King." 25 _Mail._ This goes to mine eare well, I promise you. _Chal._ O, but tis passing hard to stay one thus. _Cler._ Tis so; rancke custome raps men so beyond it. And as tis hard so well mens dores to barre To keepe the cat out and th'adulterer: 30 So tis as hard to curbe affections so Wee let in nought to make them over-flow. And as of Homers verses, many critickes On those stand of which times old moth hath eaten The first or last feete, and the perfect parts 35 Of his unmatched poeme sinke beneath, With upright gasping and sloath dull as death: So the unprofitable things of life, And those we cannot compasse, we affect; All that doth profit and wee have, neglect, 40 Like covetous and basely getting men That, gathering much, use never what they keepe; But for the least they loose, extreamely weepe. _Mail._ This prettie talking, and our horses walking Downe this steepe hill, spends time with equall profit. 45