All. Forth, good my Lord.
Fur. The evening came, and then our waxen starres
Sparkled about the heavenly Court of Fraunce,
When I then young and radiant as the sunne
Gave luster to those lamps, and curling thus
My golden foretoppe stept into the presence,
Where set with other princely Dames I found
The Countesse of Lancalier, and her neece,
Who as I told you cast so fix'd an eye
On my behaviours, talking with the King.
All. True, my good Lord.
Fur. They rose when I came in, and all the lights Burn'd dim for shame, when I stood up, and shin'd.
Foul. O most passionate description, sir Cutt.
Rud. True, of a candles end.
Goos. The passingst description of a candle that ever lived, sir Cutt.
Fur. Yet aym'd I not at them, nor seemed to note
What grace they did me, but found courtly cause
To talke with an accomplisht gentleman
New come from Italy; in quest of newes
I spake Italian with him.
Rud. What so young?
Fur. O rarissime volte cadono nel parlar nostro familiare.