Cla. O Madam let me rise that I may kneele, And pay some duty to your soveraigne grace.
Hip. Good Clarence, doe not worke your selfe disease My Lady comes to ease and comfort you.
Pene. And we are handmaides to her to that end.
Cla. Ladies, my hart will breake if it be held Within the verge of this presumtuous chaire.
Eug. Why, Clarence is your judgement bent to show
A common lovers passion? let the World,
That lives without a hart, and is but showe,
Stand on her empty, and impoisoned forme,
I knowe thy kindenesse and have seene thy hart
Clest [Cleft?] in my uncles free and friendly lippes,
And I am only now to speake and act
The rite's due to thy love: oh, I cood weepe
A bitter showre of teares for thy sicke state,
I cood give passion all her blackest rites
And make a thousand vowes to thy deserts.
But these are common, knowledge is the bond,
The seale, and crowne of our united mindes;
And that is rare and constant, and for that,
To my late written hand I give thee this.
See, heaven, the soule thou gau'st is in this hand.
This is the Knot of our eternitie,
Which fortune, death, nor hell, shall ever loose.
Enter Bullaker, Iack, Wil.
Ia. What an unmannerly tricke is this of thy Countesse to give the noble count her uncle the slippe thus?
Wil. Vnmannerlie, you villaynes? O that I were worthy to weare a Dagger to any purpose for thy sake?
Bul. Why young Gentlemen, utter your anger with your fists.
Wil. That cannot be, man, for all fists are shut you know and utter nothing; and besides I doe not thinke my quarrell just for my Ladies protection in this cause, for I protest she does most abhominablie miscarrie her selfe.