A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. III - Various
_Cla_. Which is exceeding smale to conterfeit.
_Mom_. Practise a little, love will teach it thee;
And then shall _Doctor Versey_ the physitian,
Come to thee while her selfe is in my house,
Whith whom as thou confer'st of thy disease,
He bring my Neece with all the Lords, and Ladies
Within your hearing, under fain'd pretext
To shew the Pictures that hang neere thy Chamber;
Where when thou hearst my voyce, know she is there,
And therefore speake that which may stir her thoughts,
And make her flie into thy opened armes.
Ladies, whom true worth cannot move to ruth,
Trew lovers must deceive to shew their truth.
[_Exeunt_.
_Finis Actus Quarti_.
_Actvs Qvinti_.
SCENA PRIMA.
_Enter Momford, Furnifall, Tales, Kingcob, Rudesbie, Goosecap,
Foulweather, Eugenia, Hippolyta, Penelope, Winnifred_.
_Mom_. Where is sir _Gyles Goose-cappe_ here?
_Goos_. Here my Lord.
_Mom_. Come forward, Knight; t'is you that the Ladies admire at working,
a mine honour.
_Goos_. A little at once my Lorde for idlenes sake.
_Fur_. Sir _Cut_, I say, to her Captaine.
_Penel_. Come good servant let's see what you worke.
_Goos_. Why looke you, Mistris, I am makeing a fine dry sea, full of
fish, playing in the bottome, and here ile let in the water so lively,
that you shall heare it rore.
_Eug_. Not heare it, sir _Gyles_?
_Goos_. Yes in sooth, Madam, with your eyes.
_Tal_. I, Lady; for when a thing is done so exceedingly to the life, as
my Knightly cosen does it, the eye oftentimes takes so strong a heede of
it, that it cannot containe it alone, and therefore the eare seemes to
take part with it.
_Hip_. That's a verie good reason, my Lord.
_Mom_. What a jest it is, to heare how seriouslie he strives to make his
foolish kinsmans answeres wise ones?
_Pene_. What shall this be, servant?
_Goos_. This shall be a great Whale, Mistris, at all his bignesse
spouting huge Hils of salt-water afore him, like a little water squirt,
but you shall not neede to feare him Mistris, for he shal be silke, and
gould, he shall doe you noe harme, and he be nere so lively.
_Pene_. Thanke you, good servant.
_Tal_. Doe not thinke, Lady, but he had neede tell you this a forehand:
for, a mine honour, he wrought me the monster _Caucasus_ so lively, that
at the first sight I started at it.
_Mom_. The monster _Caucasus_? my Lord, _Caucasus_ is a Mountaine;
_Cacus_ you meane.
_Tal_. _Cacus_ indeede, my Lord, crie you mercie.
_Goos_. Heere ile take out your eye, and you wil Mistris.
_Pene_. No by my faith, Servant, t'is better in.
_Goos_. Why, Ladie, Ile but take it out in jest, in earnest.
_Pene_. No, something else there, good servant.
_Goos_. Why then here shall be a Camell, and he shall have hornes, and
he shall looke for all the World like a maide without a husband.
_Hip_. O bitter sir _Giles_.
_Ta_. Nay he has a drie wit, Ladie, I can tell ye.
_Pene_. He bobd me there indeed, my Lord.
_Fur_. Marry him, sweet Lady, to answere his bitter bob.
_King_. So she maie answere him with hornes indeed.
_Eug_. See what a pretty worke he weares in his boote-hose.
_Hip_. Did you worke them your selfe, sir _Gyles_, or buy them?
_Goos_. I bought am for nothing, Madam, in th'exchange.
_Eug_. Bought am for nothing?
_Tal_. Indeed, Madam, in th'exchange they so honour him for his worke,
that they will take nothing for any thing he buies on am; but wheres the
rich night-cap you wroght, cosen? if it had not bin too little for you,
it was the best peece of worke, that ever I sawe.
_Goos_. Why, my Lord, t'was bigge enough; when I wrought it, for I wore
pantables then you knowe.
_Tal_. Indeed the warmer a man keepes his feete the lesse he needs weare
uppon his head.
_Eug_. You speake for your kinsman the best that ever I heard, my Lord.
_Goos_. But I beleeve, Madam, my Lord my cosen has not told you all my
good parts.
_Ta_. I told him so I warrant you, cosen.
_Hip_. What doe you thinke hee left out sir _Gyles_?
_Goos_. Marry, Madam, I can take _Tobacco_ now, and I have bought
glow-wormes to kindle it withall, better then all the burning glasses
ith World.
_Eug_. Glowe-wormes, sir _Giles_? will they make it burne?
_Goos_. O good Madam, I feed am with nothing but fire, a purpose, Ile
besworne they eat me five Faggots a-weeke in Charcoale.
_Tal_. Nay he has the strangest devices, Ladies, that ever you heard,
I warrent ye.
_Fur_. That's a strange device indeed, my Lord.
_Hip_. But your sowing, sir _Gyles_, is a most gentlewoman-like quality,
I assure you.
_Pene_. O farr away, for now, servant, you neede never marry, you are
both husband, and wife your selfe.
_Goos_. Nay indeed, mistris, I wood faine marry for all that, and ile
tell you my reason, if you will.
_Pene_. Let's here it good servant.
_Goos_. Why, Madam, we have a great match at football towards, married
men against batchellers, and the married men be all my friends, so I
wood faine marry to take the married mens parts in truth.
_Hip_. The best reason for marriage that ever I heard sir _Gyles_.
_Goos_. I pray will you keepe my worke a little, Mistris; I must needes
straine a little courtesie in truth. [_Exit Sir Gyles_.
_Hip_. Gods my life, I thought he was a little to blame.
_Rud_. Come, come, you he[a]re not me, dame.
_Pur_. Well said, sir _Cut_: to her now; we shall heare fresh courting.
_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.
_Mom_. Alas, my noble Lord, he is not rich,
Nor titles hath, nor in his tender cheekes
The standing lake of Impudence corrupts;
Hath nought in all the World, nor nought wood have,
To grace him in the prostituted light.
But if a man wood consort with a soule
Where all mans Sea of gall and bitternes
Is quite evaporate with her holy flames,
And in whose powers a Dove-like innocence
Fosters her own deserts, and life and death
Runnes hand in hand before them, all the Skies
Cleere, and transparent to her piercing eyes,
Then wood my friend be something, but till then
A _Cipher_, nothing, or the worst of men.
_Foul_. Sweet Lord, lets goe visit him.
_Enter Goose-cappe_.
_Goos_. Pray, good my Lord, what's that you talke on?
_Mom_. Are you come from your necessarie busines, Sir _Gyles_? we talke
of the visiting of my sicke friend _Clarence_.
_Goos_. O good my Lord lets visite him, cause I knowe his brother.
_Hip_. Know his brother, nay then Count doe not denie him.
_Goos_. Pray my Lord whether was eldest, he or his elder brother?
_Mom_. O! the younger brother eldest while you live, sir _Gyles_.
_Goos_. I say so still my Lord, but I am so borne downe with truth, as
never any Knight ith world was I thinke.
_Ta_. A man wood thinke he speakes simply now; but indeed it is in the
will of the parents, to make which child they will youngest, or eldest:
For often we see the youngest inherite, wherein he is eldest.
_Eug_. Your logicall wit my Lord is able to make any thing good.
_Mom_. Well come sweet Lords, and Ladies, let us spend
The time till supper-time with some such sights,
As my poore house is furnished withall,
Pictures, and jewels; of which implements,
It may be I have some will please you much.
_Goos_, Sweet Lord, lets see them.
[_Exeunt_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Clarence, and Doctor_.
_Do_. I thinke your disease sir, be rather of the minde then the body.
_Cla_. Be there diseases of the minde _Doctor_?
_Do_. No question sir, even as there be of the body.
_Cla_. And cures for them too?
_Do_. And cures for them too, but not by Physick.
_Cla_. You will have their diseases, greifes? will you not?
_Do_. Yes, oftentimes.
_Cla_. And doe not greifes ever rise out of passions?
_Do_. Evermore.
_Cla_. And doe not passions proceed from corporall distempers?
_Do_. Not the passions of the minde, for the minde many times is sicke,
when the bodie is healthfull.
_Cla_. But is not the mindes-sicknes of power to make the body sicke?
_Do_. In time, certaine.
_Cla_. And the bodies ill affections able to infect the mind?
_Do_. No question.
_Cla_. Then if there be such a naturall commerce of Powers betwixt them,
that the ill estate of the one offends the other, why shood not the
medicines for one cure the other?
_Do_. Yet it will not you see. _Hei mihi quod nullis amor est
medicabilis herbis_.[44]
_Cla_. Nay then, Doctor, since you cannot make any reasonable Connexion
of these two contrarieties the minde, and the body, making both subiect
to passion, wherein you confound the substances of both, I must tell you
there is no disease of the minde but one, and that is _Ignorance_.
_Do_. Why what is love? is not that a disease of the mind?
_Cla_. Nothing so: for it springs naturally out of the bloode, nor are
we subject to any disease, or sorrowe, whose causes or effects simply
and natively concerne the body, that the minde by any meanes partaketh,
nor are there any passions in the soule, for where there are no
affections, there are no passions: And _Affectus_ your Master _Galen_
refers _parti irascenti_, For _illic est anima sentiens ubi sunt
affectus_: Therefore the Rationall Soule cannot be there also.
_Do_. But you know we use to say, my minde gives me this or that, even
in those addictions that concerne the body.
_Cla_. We use to say so indeed, and from that use comes the abuse of all
knowledge and her practice, for when the object in question only
concerns the state of the body; why shood the soule bee sorry or glad
for it? if she willingly mixe her selfe, then she is a foole, if of
necessity, and against her will, a slave, and so, far from that wisdome
and freedome that the Empresse of Reason and an eternall Substance shood
comprehend.
_Do_. Divinely spoken, Sir, but verie Paradoxicallie.
_Enter Momford, Tales, Kingcob, Furnif; Rudes, Goos: Foul:
Eugenia, Penelope, Hippolyta, Winnifred_.
_Mom_. Who's there?
[_Fur_.?] I, my Lord.
_Mom_. Bring hether the Key of the gallery, me thought
I heard the Doctor, and my friend.
_Fur_. I did so sure.
_Mom_. Peace then a while, my Lord,
We will be bold to evesdroppe; For I know
My friend is as respective in his Chamber
And by himselfe, of any thing he does
As in a _Criticke Synods_ curious eyes,
Following therein _Pythagoras_ golden rule--
_Maxime omnium teipsum reverere_.
_Cla_. Know you the Countesse _Eugenia_, Sir?
_Do_. Exceeding wel, Sir; she's a good learned scholler.
_Cla_. Then I perceive you know her well indeed.
_Do_. Me thinks you two shood use much conference.
_Cla_. Alas sir, we doe verie seldome meet,
For her estate and mine are so unequall,
And then her knowledge passeth mine so farre,
That I hold much too sacred a respect,
Of her high vertues to let mine attend them.
_Do_. Pardon me, Sir, this humblenes cannot flowe
Out of your judgment but from passion.
_Cla_. Indeed I doe account that passion
The very high perfection of my minde,
That is excited by her excellence,
And therefore willingly, and gladly feele it.
For what was spoken of the most chast Queene
Of rich _Pasiaca_ [?] may be said of her.
_Moribus Antevenit sortem[45], virtutibus Annos,
Sexum animo, morum Nobilitate Genus_.
_Do_. A most excellent _Distick_.
_Mom_. Come, Lords, away, lets not presume too much
Of a good nature; not for all I have
Wood I have him take knowledge of the wrong
I rudely offer him: come then ile shew
A few rare jewels to your honour'd eyes;
And then present you with a common supper.
_Goos_. Iewells, my Lord? why is not this candlesticke one of your
jewells pray?
_Mom_. Yes marry is it, sir _Gyles_, if you will.
_Goos_. Tis a most fine candlesticke in truth, it wants nothing but
the languages.
_Pene_. The languages servant why the languages?
_Goos_. Why Mistris; there was a lattin candlesticke here afore, and
that had the languages I am sure.
_Tal_. I thought he had a reason for it Lady.
_Pene_. I, and a reason of the Sunne too, my Lord, for his father wood
have bin ashamed on't.
[_Exeunt_.
_Do_. Well, master _Clarence_, I perceive your minde
Hath so incorparate it selfe with flesh
And therein rarified that flesh to spirit,
That you have need of no Physitians helpe.
But, good Sir, even for holy vertues health
And grace of perfect knowledge, doe not make
Those ground workes of eternity you lay
Meanes to your ruine, and short being here:
For the too strict and rationall Course you hold
Will eate your body up; and then the World,
Or that small poynt of it where vertue lives,
Will suffer Diminution: It is now
Brought almost to a simple unity,
Which is (as you well know) _Simplicior puncto_.
And if that point faile once, why, then alas
The unity must onely be suppos'd.
Let it not faile then, most men else have sold it;
Tho you neglect your selfe, uphould it.
So with my reverend love I leave you sir. [_Exit_.
_Cla_. Thanks, worthy Doctour, I do amply quite you;
I proppe poore vertue, that am propt my selfe,
And only by one friend in all the World!
For vertues onely sake I use this wile,
Which otherwise I wood despise, and scorne.
The World should sinke, and all the pompe she hugs
Close in her hart, in her ambitious gripe,
Ere I sustaine it, if this slendrest joynt
Mou'd with the worth that worldlings love so well
Had power to save it from the throate of hell.
[_He drawes the curtains, and sits within them_.
_Enter Eugenia, Penelope, Hippolita_.
_Eug_. Come on, faire Ladies, I must make you both
Familiar witnesses of the most strange part
And full of impudence, that ere I plaide.
_Hip_. What's that, good Madam?
_Eug_. I that have bene so more then maiden-nice
To my deere Lord and uncle not to yeeld
By his importunate suite to his friends love
In looke, or almost thought; will of my selfe,
Farre past his expectation or his hope,
In action and in person greete his friend,
And comfort the poore gentlemans sicke state.
_Pene_. Is this a part of so much Impudence?
_Eug_. No but I feare me it will stretch to more.
_Hip_. Marry, Madam, the more the merrier.
_Eug_. Marrie Madam? what shood I marrie him?
_Hip_. You take the word me thinkes as tho you would,
And if there be a thought of such kind heate
In your cold bosome, wood to god my breath
Might blowe it to the flame of your kind hart.
_Eug_. Gods pretious, Ladie, know ye what you say,
Respect you what I am, and what he is,
What the whole world wood say, & what great Lords
I have refused, and might as yet embrace,
And speake you like a friend to wish me him?
_Hip_. Madam I cast all this, and know your choyse
Can cast it quite out of the christall dores
Of your Iudiciall eyes: I am but young,
And be it said, without all pride I take
To be a maid, I am one, and indeed
Yet in my mothers wombe to all the wiles
Weeud[46] in the loomes of greatnes, and of state:
And yet even by that little I have learn'd
Out of continuall conference with you,
I have cride haruest home of thus much judgment
In my greene sowing time, that I cood place
The constant sweetnes of good _Clarence_ minde,
Fild with his inward wealth and noblenes,
(Looke, Madam) here, when others outward trash
Shood be contented to come under here.
_Pene_. And so say I uppon my maidenhead.
_Eug_. Tis well said, Ladies, thus we differ then,
I to the truth-wife, you to worldly men.
And now sweet dames obserue an excellent jest
(At least in my poore jesting.) Th'Erle my unckle
Will misse me straite, and I know his close drift
Is to make me, and his friend _Clarence_ meete
By some device or other he hath plotted.
Now when he seekes us round about his house
And cannot find us, for we may be sure
He will not seeke me in his sicke friends Chamber,
(I have at all times made his love so strange,)
He straight will thinke, I went away displeas'd,
Or hartely careles of his hardest suite.
And then I know there is no griefe on Earth
Will touch his hart so much; which I will suffer,
To quite his late good pleasure wrought on me,
For ile be sworne in motion, and progresse
Of his friends suite, I never in my life
Wrastled so much with passion or was mov'd
To take his firme love in such jelouse part.
_Hip_. This is most excellent, Madam, and will prove
A neecelike, and a noble friends Revenge.
_Eug_. Bould in a good cause; then lets greet his friend.--
Where is this sickely gentleman? at his booke?
Now in good truth I wood theis bookes were burnd
That rapp men from their friends before their time,
How does my uncles friend, no other name
I need give him, to whom I give my selfe.
_Cla_. O Madam let me rise that I may kneele,
And pay some duty to your soveraigne grace.
_Hip_. Good _Clarence_, doe not worke your selfe disease
My Lady comes to ease and comfort you.
_Pene_. And we are handmaides to her to that end.
_Cla_. Ladies, my hart will breake if it be held
Within the verge of this presumtuous chaire.
_Eug_. Why, _Clarence_ is your judgement bent to show
A common lovers passion? let the World,
That lives without a hart, and is but showe,
Stand on her empty, and impoisoned forme,
I knowe thy kindenesse and have seene thy hart
Clest [Cleft?] in my uncles free and friendly lippes,
And I am only now to speake and act
The rite's due to thy love: oh, I cood weepe
A bitter showre of teares for thy sicke state,
I cood give passion all her blackest rites
And make a thousand vowes to thy deserts.
But these are common, knowledge is the bond,
The seale, and crowne of our united mindes;
And that is rare and constant, and for that,
To my late written hand I give thee this.
See, heaven, the soule thou gau'st is in this hand.
This is the Knot of our eternitie,
Which fortune, death, nor hell, shall ever loose.
_Enter Bullaker, Iack, Wil_.
_Ia_. What an unmannerly tricke is this of thy Countesse to give the
noble count her uncle the slippe thus?
_Wil_. Vnmannerlie, you villaynes? O that I were worthy to weare a
Dagger to any purpose for thy sake?
_Bul_. Why young Gentlemen, utter your anger with your fists.
_Wil_. That cannot be, man, for all fists are shut you know and utter
nothing; and besides I doe not thinke my quarrell just for my Ladies
protection in this cause, for I protest she does most abhominablie
miscarrie her selfe.
_Ia_. Protest, you sawsie Iacke, you! I shood doe my country, and
Court-ship good service to beare thy coalts teeth out of thy head, for
suffering such a reverend word to passe their guarde; why, the oldest
Courtier in the World, man, can doe noe more then protest.
_Bul_. Indeede, Page, if you were in _Fraunce_, you wood be broken upon
a wheele for it, there is not the best _Dukes_ sonne in _France_ dares
say I protest, till he be one and thirty yeere old at least, for the
inheritance of that word is not to be possest before.
_Wil_. Well, I am sorry for my presumtion then, but more sory for my
Ladies, marie most sorry for thee good Lord _Momford_, that will make us
most of all sory for our selves, if wee doe not fynde her out.
_Ia_. Why, alas, what shood wee doe? all the starres of our heaven see,
we seeke her as fast as we can if she be crept into a rush we will seeke
her out or burne her.
_Enter Momford_.
_Mom_. Villaines, where are your Ladies? seeke them out.
Hence, home ye monsters, and still keepe you there
Where levity keepes, in her inconstant Spheare. [_Exeunt Pages_.
Away, you pretious villaines! what a plague,
Of varried tortures is a womans hart?
How like a peacockes taile with different lightes,
They differ from themselves; the very ayre
Alter the aspen humors of their bloods.
Now excellent good, now superexcellent badd:
Some excellent good, some? but one of all:
Wood any ignorant babie serue her friend
Such an uncivill part? Sblood what is learning?
An artificiall cobwebbe to catch _flies_,
And nourish _Spiders_? cood she cut my throate
With her departure, I had byn her calfe,
And made a dish at supper for my guests
Of her kinde charge; I am beholding to her.
Puffe, is there not a feather in this ayre
A man may challenge for her? what? a feather?
So easie to be seene, so apt to trace,
In the weake flight of her unconstant wings?
A mote, man, at the most, that with the Sunne,
Is onely seene, yet with his radiant eye,
We cannot single so from other motes,
To say this mote is she. Passion of death,
She wrongs me past a death; come, come, my friend
Is mine, she not her owne, and theres an end.
_Eug_. Come uncle shall we goe to supper now?
_Mom_. Zounes to supper? what a dorr is this?
_Eug_. Alas what ailes my uncle? Ladies, see.
_Hip_. Is not your Lordshippe well?
_Pene_. Good, speake my Lord.
_Mom_. A sweete plague on you all, ye witty rogues;
Have you no pitty in your villanous jests,
But runne a man quite from his fifteene witts?
_Hip_. Will not your Lordship see your friend, and Neece.
_Mom_. Wood I might sinke if I shame not to see her
Tush t'was a passion of pure jealousie,
Ile make her now amends with Adoration.
Goddesse of learning, and of constancy,
Of friendshippe, and of everie other vertue.
_Eug_. Come, come you have abus'de me now, I know,
And now you plaister me with flatteries.
_Pene_. My Lord, the contract is knit fast betwixt them.
_Mom_. Now all heavens quire of Angels sing Amen,
And blesse theis true borne nuptials with their blisse;
And Neece tho you have cosind me in this,
Ile uncle you yet in an other thing,
And quite deceive your expectation.
For where you thinke you have contracted harts
With a poore gentleman, he is sole heire
To all my Earledome, which to you and yours
I freely and for ever here bequeath.
Call forth the Lords, sweet Ladies; let them see
This sodaine, and most welcome Noveltie;
But cry you mercy, Neece, perhaps your modesty
Will not have them partake this sodaine match.
_Eug_. O uncle, thinke you so? I hope I made
My choyce with too much Judgment to take shame
Of any forme I shall performe it with.
_Mom_. Said like my Neece, and worthy of my friend.
_Enter Furnifall, Tal: King: Goos: Rud: Foul: Ia: Will, Bullaker_.
_Mom_. My Lords, take witnes of an absolute wonder,
A marriage made for vertue, onely vertue:
My friend, and my deere Neece are man and wife.
_Fur_. A wonder of mine honour, and withall
A worthy presedent for all the World;
Heaven blesse you for it, Lady, and your choyce.
_Ambo_. Thankes, my good Lord.
_Ta_. An Accident that will make pollicie blush,
And all the Complements of wealth and state,
In the succesfull and unnumbred Race
That shall flow from it, fild with fame and grace.
_Ki_. So may it speed deere Countesse, worthy _Clarence_.
_Ambo_. Thankes, good sir _Cuthberd_.