inds better then you;
Tho my rare Neece hath chose for vertue only,
Yet some more wise then some, they chuse for both,
Vertue and wealth.

_Eug_. Nay, uncle, then I plead
This goes with my choise, _Some more wise then some_,
For onely vertues choise is truest wisedome.

_Mom_. Take wealth, and vertue both amongst you then,
They love ye, Knights, extreamely; and Sir _Cut_:
I give the chast _Hippolita_ to you;
Sir _Gyles_, this Ladie--

_Pen_. Nay, stay there, my Lord.
I have not yet prov'd all his Knightly parts
I heare he is an excellent Poet too.

_Tal_. That I forgot sweet Lady; good sir _Gyles_,
Have you no sonnet of your penne about ye?

_Goos_. Yes, that I have I hope, my Lord, my Cosen.

_Fur_. Why, this is passing fit.

_Goos_. I'de be loth to goe without paper about me against my Mistris,
hold my worke againe; a man knows not what neede he shall have perhaps.

_Mom_. Well remembred a mine honour sir _Gyles_.

_Goos_. Pray read my Lord, I made this sonnet of my Mistris.

_Rud_. Nay reade thy selfe, man.

_Goos_. No intruth, sir _Cut_: I cannot reade mine owne hand.

_Mom_. Well I will reade it.
_Three things there be which thou shouldst only crave,
Thou Pomroy or thou apple of mine eye;
Three things there be which thou shouldst long to have
And for which three each modest dame wood crie;
Three things there be that shood thine anger swage,
An English mastife and a fine French page_.

_Rud_. Sblood, Asse, theres but two things, thou shamst thy selfe.

_Goos_. Why sir _Cut_. thats _Poetica licentia_, the verse wood have bin
too long, and I had put in the third. Slight, you are no Poet I perceive.

_Pene_. Tis excellent, servant.

_Mom_. Keepe it Lady then,
And take the onely Knight of mortall men.

_Goos_. Thanke you, good my Lord, as much as tho you had given me twenty
shillings in truth; now I may take the married mens parts at football.

_Mom_. All comforts crowne you all; and you, Captaine,
For merry forme sake let the willowe crowne:
A wreath of willow bring us hither straite.

_Fur_. Not for a world shood that have bin forgot
Captaine it is the fashion, take this Crowne.

_Foul_. With all my hart, my Lord, and thanke you too;
I will thanke any man that gives me crownes.

_Mom_. Now will we consecrate our ready supper
To honourd _Hymen_ as his nuptiall rite;
In forme whereof first daunce, faire Lords and Ladies,
And after sing, so we will sing, and daunce,
And to the skies our