Eug. No, no my Lord, you will have Clarence there.
Mom. Alas poore Gentleman, I must tell you now,
He's extreame sicke, and was so when he writt,
Tho he did charge me not to tell you so;
And for the World he cannot come abroade.
Eug. Is this the man that without passion loves?
Mom. I doe not tell you he is sicke with love;
Or if he be, tis wilfull passion.
Which he doth choose to suffer for your sake,
And cood restraine his sufferance with a thought,
Vppon my life, he will not trouble you;
And therefore, worthy Neece, faile not to come.
Eug. I will on that condition.
Mom. Tis perform'd.
For were my friend well, and cood comfort me,
I wood not now intreate your company,
But one of you I must have, or I die:
Oh such a friend is worth a monarchy.
[Exeunt.
(SCENE 2.)
Enter Lord Furnifall, Rudsbie, Goosecappe, Foulweather, Bullaker.
Fur. Nay, my gallants, I will tell you more.