acts they
commit, they touch you no more then they touch eternity. And yet shall
no nobility you have in eyther, be impaired neither.

_Eug_. Not to marry a poore Gentleman?

_Mom_. Respect him not so; for as he is a Gentleman he is noble; as he
is wealthily furnished with true knowledge, he is rich, and therein
adorn'd with the exactest complements belonging to everlasting
noblenesse.

_Eug_. Which yet will not maintaine him a weeke: Such kinde of
noblenesse gives no cotes of honour nor can scarse gette a cote for
necessity.

_Mom_. Then is it not substantiall knowledge (as it is in him) but
verball, and fantasticall for _Omnia in illa ille complexu tenet_.

_Eug_. Why seekes he me then?

_Mom_. To make you joynt partners with him in all things, and there is
but a little partiall difference betwixt you, that hinders that
universall joynture: The bignesse of this circle held too neere our eye
keepes it from the whole Spheare of the Sun; but could we sustaine it
indifferently betwixt us, and it would then without checke of one beame
appeare in his fulnes.

_Eug_. Good Vnckle be content, for now shall I never dreame of
contentment.

_Mom_. I have more then done Lady, and had rather have suffer'd an
alteration of my being, then of your Judgment; but (deere Neece) for
your own honours sake repaire it instantly.

_Enter Hippolyta. Penelope. Iacke. Will_.

See heere comes the Ladies; make an Aprill day on't[18], deare love,
and bee sodainly cheerefull. God save you, more then faire Ladies,
I am glad your come, for my busines will have me gone presently.

_Hip_. Why my Lord _Momford_ I say? will you goe before Dinner?

_Mom_. No remedy, sweet Beauties, for which rudnesse I lay my hands thus
low for your pardons.

_Pen_. O Courteous Lo. _Momford_![19]

_Mom_. Neece?----_Mens est quae sola quietos,
Sola facit claros, mentemque honoribus ornat_.[20]

_Eug_. _Verus honos juvat, at mendax infamia terret_.[21]

_Mom_. Mine owne deare nephew?

_Cla_. What successe my Lord?

_Mom_. Excellent; excellent; come Ile tell thee all.--_Exeunt_.

_Hip_. Doe you heare Madam, how our youthes here have guld our three
suiters?

_Eug_. Not I, Lady; I hope our suiters are no fit meat for our Pages.

_Pe_. No Madam, but they are fit sawce for any mans meat, Ile warrent
them.

_Eug_. What's the matter _Hippolyta_?

_Hip_. They have sent the Knights to _Barnet_, Madam, this frosty
morning to meet us there.

_E