And therefore since in every man that holds
This being deare, there must be some desire,
Whose power t'enjoy his object may so maske
The judging part, that in her radyant eyes
His estimation of the World may seeme
Vpright, and worthy, I have chosen love
To blind my Reason with his misty hands
And make my estimative power beleive
I have a project worthy to imploy
What worth so ever my whole man affordes:
Then sit at rest, my soule, thou now hast found
The end of thy infusion; in the eyes
Of thy divine _Eugenia_ looke for Heaven.
Thanks gentle friends. [_A song to the Violls_.
Is your good Lord, and mine, gon up to bedd yet?

_Enter Momford_.

_Mom_. I do assure ye not, sir, not yet, nor yet, my deepe, and studious
friend; not yet, musicall _Clarence_.

_Cla_. My Lord?

_Mom_. Nor yet, thou sole divider of my Lordshippe.

_Cla_. That were a most unfit division,
And farre above the pitch of my low plumes;
I am your bold, and constant guest my Lord.

_Mom_. Far, far from bold, for thou hast known me long