Fame. She setteth nought by Fame; whereby I spy her—
She careth not what the World sayeth by her.
Fav. She setteth nought by Favour; whereby I try her—
She careth not what the World sayeth or doeth by her.
Rich. She setteth nought by Riches; which doth show
She careth not for the World. Come, let us go!
[Fame, Favour, Riches, and Worship go out.
Sci. Indeed, small cause given to care for the World's favouring,
Seeing the wits of [the] World be so wavering!
Exp. What is the matter, daughter, that ye
Be so sad? Open your mind to me.
Sci. My marvel is no less, my good mother,
Than my grief is great, to see, of all other,
The proud scorn of Wit, son to Dame Nature,
Who sent me a picture of his stature,
With all the shape of himself there opening:
His amorous love thereby betokening,
Borne toward me in abundant fashion;
And also, further, to make right relation
Of this his love, he put in commission
Such a messenger as no suspicion
Could grow, in me, of him—Confidence.
Exp. Um!
Sci. Who, I ensure ye, with such vehemence,
And faithful behaviour in his moving,
Set forth the pith of his master's loving
That no living creature could conjecte
But that pure love did that Wit direct.
Exp. So?