Doth separate in such forme this massive Rownd;
What is his Essence, Efficacies, Beames,
Foot-steps, and Shadowes; what Eternesse[15] is,
The World, and Time, and Generation;
What Soule, the worlds Soule is, what the blacke Springs
And unreveald Originall of Things,
What their perseverance; what's life, and death,
And what our certaine Restauration;
Am with the staid-heads of this Time imploy'd
To watch with all my Nerves a Female shade.

_Enter Wynnifred, Anabell, with their sowing workes
and sing: After their song Enter Lord Momford_.

_Mom_. Witty Mistrisse _Wynnifred_, where is your Countesse, I pray?

_Wyn_. Faith your Lordship is bould enough to seeke her out, if she were
at her urinall?

_Mom_. Then sh'as done, it seemes, for here she comes to save me that
labour; away, wenches, get you hence wenches.
[_Exeunt_.

_Eu_. What, can you not abide my maides, unkle?

_Mom_. I never cood abide a maide in my life Neece, but either I draw
away the maide, or the maidenhead with a wet finger[16].

_Eug_. You love to make your selfe worse then you are still.