Doct.  Now, madam, by my trot you be very faire.

Cor.  You mock me, M. Doct, I know the contrary.

Doct.  Know? what you know?  You no see your selfe, by garr me see you; me speake vatt me see; you no point speake so: 

Han.  Peace, Doctor, I vise you.  Do not court in my maisters hearing, you were best.

    Enter Flores.

Flo.  Where are these wooers heere? poore sillie men,
Highly deceiv’d to gape for marriage heere
Onely for gaine:  I have another reache
More high then their base spirits can aspire: 
Yet must I use this Doctors secret aide,
That hath alreadie promist me a drug
Whose vertue shall effect my whole desires.

Doct.  O Monsieur Flores, mee be your worships servant; mee lay my hand under your Lordships foote by my trot.

Flo.  O maister Doctor, you are welcome to us, And you, Albertus, it doth please me much To see you vowed rivalls thus agree.

Doct.  Agree? by my trot sheele not have him.

Ma.  You finde not that in your urins, M. Doctor.

Doct. Mounsieur Flores, come hedder, pray.

Flo.  What sayes maister Doctor? have you remembred me?

Doct.  I, by garr:  heere be de powdra, you give de halfe at once.

Flo.  But are you sure it will worke the effect?

Doct.  Me be sure? by garr she no sooner drinke but shee hang your neck about; she stroake your beard; she nippe your sheeke; she busse your lippe, by garr.

Flo.  What, wilt thou eate me, Doctor?

Doct.  By garr, mee must shew you de vertue by plaine demonstration.

Flo.  Well, tell me, is it best in wine or no?

Doct.  By garr de Marshan, de Marshan, I tinck he kisse my sweete mistresse.

Flo.  Nay, pray thee, Doctor, speake; is’t best in wine or no?

Doct.  O, good Lort! in vyne:  vat else I pray you? you give de vench to loove vatra? be garre me be ashame of you.

Flo.  Well, thankes, gentle Doctor.  And now (my friends)
I looke to day for strangers of great state,
And must crave libertie to provide for them. 
Painter, goe leave your worke, and you, Lucilia,
Keepe you (I charge you) in your chamber close.
                      [Exeunt Cass. and Lucilia.
Haunce, see that all things be in order set
Both for our Musicke and our large Carowse,
That (after our best countrie fashion)
I may give entertainment to the Prince.

Han.  One of your Hault-boyes (sir) is out of tune.

Flo.  Out of tune, villaine? which way?

Han.  Drunke (sir), ant please you?

Flo.  Ist night with him alreadie?—­Well, get other Musicke.

Han.  So we had need in truth, sir.
                                       [Exit Hans.