Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him
before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him,
that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes
me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come
on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an
arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No.
Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour
A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A
trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday.
Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it
insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with
the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore
Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so
ends my Catechisme.
Enter.


Scena Secunda.


Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberall kinde offer of the King

Ver. 'Twere best he did

Wor. Then we are all vndone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,