g_. Alas what ailes my uncle? Ladies, see.

_Hip_. Is not your Lordshippe well?

_Pene_. Good, speake my Lord.

_Mom_. A sweete plague on you all, ye witty rogues;
Have you no pitty in your villanous jests,
But runne a man quite from his fifteene witts?

_Hip_. Will not your Lordship see your friend, and Neece.

_Mom_. Wood I might sinke if I shame not to see her
Tush t'was a passion of pure jealousie,
Ile make her now amends with Adoration.
Goddesse of learning, and of constancy,
Of friendshippe, and of everie other vertue.

_Eug_. Come, come you have abus'de me now, I know,
And now you plaister me with flatteries.

_Pene_. My Lord, the contract is knit fast betwixt them.

_Mom_. Now all heavens quire of Angels sing Amen,
And blesse theis true borne nuptials with their blisse;
And Neece tho you have cosind me in this,
Ile uncle you yet in an other thing,
And quite deceive your expectation.
For where you thinke you have contracted harts
With a poore gentleman, he is sole heire
To all my Earledome, which to you and yours
I freely and for ever here bequeath.
Call forth the Lords, sweet Ladies; let them see
This sodaine, and most welcome Noveltie;
But cry you mercy, Neece, perhaps your modesty
Will not have them partake this sodaine match.

_Eug_. O uncle, thinke you so? I hope I made
My choyce with too much Judgment to take shame
Of any forme I shall performe it with.

_Mom_. Said like my Neece, and worthy of my friend.

_Enter Furnifall, Tal: King: Goos: Rud: Foul: Ia: Will, Bullaker_.

_Mom_. My Lords, take witnes of an absolute wonder,
A marriage made for vertue, onely vertue:
My friend, and my deere Neece are man and wife.

_Fur_. A wonder of mine honour, and withall
A worthy presedent for all the World;
Heaven blesse you for it, Lady, and your choyce.

_Ambo_. Thankes, my good Lord.

_Ta_. An Accident that will make pollicie blush,
And all the Complements of wealth and state,
In the succesfull and unnumbred Race
That shall flow from it, fild with fame and grace.

_Ki_. So may it speed deere Countesse, worthy _Clarence_.

_Ambo_. Thankes, good sir _Cuthberd_.

_Fur_. Captaine be not dismaid, Ile marrie thee,
For while we live, thou shalt my consort be.

_Foul_. By _France_ my Lord, I am not griev'd a whit,
Since _Clarence_ hath her; he hath bin in _Fraunce_,
And therefore merits her if she were better.

_Mom_. Then, Knights, ile knit your happie nuptial knots.
I know the Ladies m