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.