Euph. Oh that you saw your self:
You ne'r made me such offer in my poorness,
And 'cause (to do you ease) I sought not to you.
You thus maligne me; yet your nature must not
Corrupt mine, nor your rude examples lead me:
If mine can mend you, I shall joy; you know
I fear you not: you have seen me proved a man
In every way of fortune, 'tis my comfort
I know no more such Brothers in the World
As Crates is.
Con. Nor I such as Euphanes:
The temper of an Angel reigns in thee.
Euph. Your Royal Mother Sir, (I had forgot)
Entreats your presence.
The. You have done her errand,
I may do yours. [Exit.
Euph. Let it be truth my Lord.
Con. Crates, Ile question you for this.
Cra. Pish, your worst. [Exit.
Con. Away you hounds after your scent.
Onus. Come, we'll scorn to walk to'm: now they are gone,
We'l away too. [Exeunt.
Con. Why bear you this my Lord?