oretoppe stept into the presence,
Where set with other princely Dames I found
The Countesse of _Lancalier_, and her neece,
Who as I told you cast so fix'd an eye
On my behaviours, talking with the King.

_All_. True, my good Lord.

_Fur_. They rose when I came in, and all the lights
Burn'd dim for shame, when I stood up, and shin'd.

_Foul_. O most passionate description, sir _Cutt_.

_Rud_. True, of a candles end.

_Goos_. The passingst description of a candle that ever lived,
sir _Cutt_.

_Fur_. Yet aym'd I not at them, nor seemed to note
What grace they did me, but found courtly cause
To talke with an accomplisht gentleman
New come from Italy; in quest of newes
I spake _Italian_ with him.

_Rud_. What so young?

_Fur_. _O rarissime volte cadono nel parlar nostro familiare_.

_Foul_. Slid, a cood speake it, Knight, at three yeeres old.

_Fur_. Nay, gentle Captaine, doe not set me forth;
I love it not, in truth I love it not.

_Foul_. Slight, my Lord, but truth is truth, you know.

_Goos_. I dare ensure your Lordship, Truth is truth, and I have heard in
_France_, they speake _French_ as well as their mother tongue, my Lord.

_Fur_. Why tis their mother tongue, my noble Knight.
But (as I tell you) I seem'd not to note
The Ladies notes of me, but held my talke,
With that Italionate Frenchman, and tooke time
(Still as our conference serv'd) to shew my Courtship
In the three quarter legge, and setled looke,
The quicke kisse of the top of the forefinger,
And other such exploytes of good Accost;
All which the Ladies tooke into their eyes
With such attention that their favours swarm'd
About my bosome, in my hart, mine eares,
In skarffes about my thighes, upon mine armes
Thicke on my wristes, and thicker on my hands,
And still the lesse I sought, the more I found.
All this I tell to this notorious end,
That you may use your Courtship with lesse care
To your coy mistresses; As when we strike
A goodly Sammon, with a little line,
We doe not tugge to hale her up by force,
For then our line wood breake, and our hooke lost;
But let her carelesse play alongst the streame,
As you had left her, and sheele drowne her selfe.

_Foul_. A my life a most rich comparison.

_Goos_. Never stirre if it be not a richer Caparison then my Lorde my
Cosin wore at Tilt, for that was brodred with nothing but moone-shine
ith the water, and this has Sammons in't; by heaven a most edible
Caparison.

_Ru_. Odious thou woodst