instantly foorth. This kinde conjuration even
fires it out of me; and (to be short) gather all your judgment
togeather, for here it comes. Neece, _Clarence, Clarence_, rather my
soule then my friend _Clarence_, of too substantiall a worth, to have
any figures cast about him (notwithstanding, no other woman with Empires
could stirre his affections) is with your vertues most extreamely in
love; and without your requitall dead. And with it Fame shall sound this
golden disticke through the World of you both.

_Non illo melior quisquam, nec amantior aequi
Vir fuit, aut illa reverentior ulla Deorum_[17].

_Eug_. Ay me poore Dame, O you amase me Vncle,
Is this the wondrous fortune you presage?
What man may miserable women trust?

_Mom_. O peace good Lady, I come not to ravish you to any thing. But now
I see how you accept my motion: I perceive (how upon true triall) you
esteeme me. Have I rid all this Circuite to levie the powers of your
Iudgment, that I might not proove their strength too sodainly with so
violent a charge; And do they fight it out in white bloud, and show me
their hearts in the soft Christall of teares?

_Eug_. O uncle you have wounded your selfe in charging me that I should
shun Iudgement as a monster, if it would not weepe; I place the poore
felicity of this World in a woorthy friend, and to see him so unworthily
revolted, I shed not the teares of my Brayne, but the teares of my
soule. And if ever nature made teares th'effects of any worthy cause,
I am sure I now shed them worthily.

_Mom_. Her sensuall powers are up yfaith, I have thrust her soule quite
from her Tribunall. This is her _Sedes vacans_ when her subjects are
priviledged to libell against her, and her friends. But weeps my kinde
Neece for the wounds of my friendship? And I toucht in friendship for
wishing my friend doubled in her singular happinesse?

_Eug_. How am I doubl'd? when my honour, and good name, two essentiall
parts of me; would bee lesse, and loste?

_Mom_. In whose Iudgment?

_Eug_. In the judgment of the World.

_Mom_. Which is a fooles boult. _Nihil a virtute nec a veritate
remotius, quam vulgaris opinio_: But my deare Neece, it is most true
that your honour, and good name tendred, as they are the species of
truth, are worthily two esentiall parts of you; But as they consist only
in ayrie titles, and corrupteble bloud (whose bitternes _sanitas & non
nobilitas efficit_) and care not how many base, and execrable