Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.

Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you
thus out of measure sad?
Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds,
therefore the sadnesse is without limit

Con. You should heare reason

Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth
it?
Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance

Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art,
borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine,
to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I
am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no
mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no
mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no
mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man
in his humor

Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this,
till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of
late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane
you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you
should take root, but by the faire weather that you make
your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your
owne haruest