u; if he know you thinke him kinde once, and will say nothing
but still use him, you may melt him into any kindnesse you will; he is
right like a woman, and had rather, you shood bluntlie take the greatest
favour you can of him, then shamefastly intreat it.

_Eug_. He saies well to you _Hippolita_.

_Hip_. I, Madam, but they saie, he will beat one in jest, and byte in
kindenesse, and teare ones ruffes in Courtshippe.

_King_. Some that he makes sport withall perhappes, but none that he
respects, I assure ye.

_Hip_. And what's his living sir _Cutbeard_?

_King_. Some two thousand a yeere, Ladie.

_Hip_. I pray doe not tell him that I ask't, for I stand not upon
living.

_King_. O good Ladie, who can live without living?

_Enter Momford_.

_Mom_. Still heere, Lordings? good companions yfaith; I see you come not
for vittles.

_Tal_. Vittles, my Lord? I hope wee have vittles at home.

_Mom_. I, but, sweet Lord, there is a principle in the Polititians
physicke: Eat not[37] your meat upon other mens trenchers, and beware of
surfets of your owne coste. Manie good companions cannot abide to eate
meate at home, ye know. And how faires my noble Neece now, and her faire
Ladie Feeres[38]?

_Eug_. What winde blowes you hether, troe?

_Mom_. Harke you, Madam, the sweet gale of one _Clarences_ breath, with
this his paper sayle blowes me hether.

_Eug_. Aye me still, in that humour? beshrewe my heart, if I take anie
Papers from him.

_Mom_. Kinde bosome doe thou take it then.

_Eug_. Nay then never trust me.

_Mom_. Let it fall then or cast it away, you were best, that every body
may discover your love suits, doe; theres somebody neare, you note
it.--And how have you spent the time since Dinner, nobles?

_King_. At chests, my Lord.

_Mom_. Read it, Neece.

_Eug_. Heere, beare it backe, I pray.

_Mom_. I beare you on my backe to heare you. And how play the Ladies,
sir _Cuthberd_? what men doe they play best withall, with Knights or
rookes?

_Tal_. With Knights, my Lord.

_Mom_. T'is pitty their boord is no broader, and that some men called
guls are not added to their game.

_King_. Why, my Lo? it needs not, they make the Knights guls.

_Mom_. That's pretty, sir _Cuthbert_.--You have begon I know, Neece;
forth I command you.

_Eug_. O yare a sweet uncle.

_Mom_. I have brought here a little _Greeke_, to helpe mee out withall,
and shees so coy of her learning forsooth, she makes it strange.--Lords