_Fue_. Well, I am contented to love you; and why? For nothing but
because you are an oulde man.

_Char_. Why, tys the onlye tye of faythfulines:
Age is the onlye object of the harte,
And by's experyence onlye hathe aspyrd
Toth heyght of all perfectyon.

_Fue_. True, for I'll stande too't an oulde man is able to see more, doe
more, & comand more then any young man in Chrystendome.

_Char_. Prove it, my sweete; thou arte myne advocate.

_Fue_. Why, a sees more, through spectackles which make everye thynge
apeare bygger than it is; does more, for a never lights from hys horse
but hees readye to pull the sadle after hym; and for comandment he may
call twentye tymes to hys servant ere he have hys will once performed.

_Rich_.--Sfoote, the knave dothe abuse hys hyghnes groslye.

_Tur_.--Tut, not at all when't cannot be dyserned.

_Char_. Why, I doe nowe doate on thyne excellence.
Thys witts unparaleld.

_Did_.--True, except a man searche the Idyotts hospytall.

_Char_. Thou never shalt goe from me.

_Fue_. O yes, by all meanes. Shall my master say I ranne away like a