Eug. O yare in a mighty danger, noe doubt on't.
Mom. If you have our blouds, beware our ghosts, I can tell ye; come, will ye write?
Eug. I will not write yfaith.
Mom. Yfaith dame, then I must be your secretary, I see; heres the letter, come, doe you dictate, and ile write.
Eug. If you write no otherwise then I dictate, it will scarce prove a kinde answer, I beleeve.
Mom. But you will be advis'de, I trust. Secretaries are of counsell with their Countesses; thus it begins: Suffer him to love, that suffers not loving. What answere you to that?
Eug. He loves extreamely that suffers not in love.
Mom. He answers you for that presently, his love is without passion, and therefore free from alteration, for Pati you know is in alterationem labi; he loves you in his soule, he tels you, wherein there is no passion. Saie dame what answer you?
Eug. Nay if I answere anie thing—
Mom. Why? very well, ile answer for you.