_Magn._ Thy wordes and my mynde odly well accorde.
_Court. Ab._ What sholde ye do elles? are not you a lorde? Let your lust and lykynge stande for a lawe; Be wrastynge and wrythynge, and away drawe. And ye se a man that with hym ye be not pleased, And that your mynde can not well be eased, As yf a man fortune to touche you on the quyke, 1630 Then feyne yourselfe dyseased and make yourselfe seke: To styre vp your stomake you must you forge, Call for a candell[839] and cast vp your gorge; With, Cockes armes, rest shall I none haue Tyll I be reuenged on that horson knaue! A, howe my stomake wambleth! I am all in a swete! Is there no horson that knaue that wyll bete?
_Magn._ By Cockes woundes, a wonder felowe thou arte; For ofte tymes suche a wamblynge goth ouer my harte; Yet I am not harte seke, but that me lyst 1640 For myrth I haue hym coryed, beten, and blyst, Hym that I loued not and made hym to loute, I am forthwith as hole as a troute; For suche abusyon I vse nowe and than.
_Court. Ab._ It is none abusyon, syr, in a noble man, It is a pryncely pleasure and a lordly mynde; Suche lustes at large may not be lefte behynde.
_Here cometh in CLOKED COLUSYON with MESURE._
_Cl. Col._ Stande styll here, and ye shall se That for your sake I wyll fall on my kne.
_Court. Ab._ Syr, Sober Sadnesse cometh, wherfore it be? 1650
_Magn._ Stande vp, syr, ye are welcom to me.
_Cl. Col._ Please it your grace, at the contemplacyon Of my pore instance and supplycacyon, Tenderly to consyder in your aduertence, Of our blessyd Lorde, syr, at the reuerence, Remembre the good seruyce that Mesure hath you done, And that ye wyll not cast hym away so sone.
_Magn._ My frende, as touchynge to this your mocyon, I may say to you I haue but small deuocyon; Howe be it, at your instaunce I wyll the rather 1660 Do as moche as for myne owne father.
_Cl. Col._ Nay, syr, that affeccyon ought to be reserued, For of your grace I haue it nought deserued; But yf it lyke you that I myght rowne in your eyre, To shewe you my mynde I wolde haue the lesse fere.
_Magn._ Stande a lytell abacke, syr, and let hym come hyder.
_Court. Ab._ With a good wyll, syr, God spede you bothe togyder.
_Cl. Col._ Syr, so it is, this man is here by, That for hym to laboure he hath prayde me hartely; Notwithstandynge to you be it sayde, 1670 To trust in me he is but dyssayued; For, so helpe me God, for you he is not mete: I speke the softlyer, because he sholde not wete.