low for your pardons.

_Pen_. O Courteous Lo. _Momford_![19]

_Mom_. Neece?----_Mens est quae sola quietos,
Sola facit claros, mentemque honoribus ornat_.[20]

_Eug_. _Verus honos juvat, at mendax infamia terret_.[21]

_Mom_. Mine owne deare nephew?

_Cla_. What successe my Lord?

_Mom_. Excellent; excellent; come Ile tell thee all.--_Exeunt_.

_Hip_. Doe you heare Madam, how our youthes here have guld our three
suiters?

_Eug_. Not I, Lady; I hope our suiters are no fit meat for our Pages.

_Pe_. No Madam, but they are fit sawce for any mans meat, Ile warrent
them.

_Eug_. What's the matter _Hippolyta_?

_Hip_. They have sent the Knights to _Barnet_, Madam, this frosty
morning to meet us there.

_Eug_. I'st true, youths? are Knights fit subjects for your knaveries?