Enter Haunce, Lassingbergh and others following,
    serving in a Bancket.

Han.  Come, sir, it is not your painting alone makes your absolute man; ther’s as fine a hand to be requir’d in carrying a dish, and as sweete arte to be shew’d in’t as in any maister peece whatsoever; better then as you painted the Doctor eene now with his nose in an Urinall.

Lass.  Be quiet, sir, or ile paint you by and by eating my maisters comfets. [Exit.

    Enter Flores, Cassimeere, Alberdure, Cornelia, and Moth.

Flor_.  Prince Alberdure, my great desire to aunswere
The greatnes of your birth and high deserts
With entertainment fitting to your state
Makes althings seem too humble for your presence.

Alber.  Courteous S. Flores, your kinde welcome is
Worthy the presence of the greatest Prince,
And I am bound to good Earle Cassimeere
For honouring me with your desierd acquaintance.

Cass.  Wilt please you therefore to draw neere, my lord?

Flo.  Wilt please your grace to sit?

Alber.  No, good S. Flores; I am heere admiring
The cunning strangenes of your antick worke: 
For though the generall tract of it be rough
Yet is it sprinckled with rare flowers of Art. 
See what a livelie piercing eye is here;
Marke the conveiance of this lovelie hand;
Where are the other parts of this rare cheeke? 
Is it not pittie that they should be hid?

Flo.  More pittie ’tis (my lord) that such rare art
Should be obscur’d by needie povertie;
Hee’s but a simple man kept in my house.

Alber.  Come, sirra, you are a practitioner, Lets have your judgement here.

Han.  Will you have a stoole, sir?

Moth.  I, and I thanke you too, sir.

Flo.  Hath this young Gentleman such skill in drawing?

Alber.  Many great maisters thinke him (for his yeares) Exceeding cunning.

Cass.  Now, sir, what thinke you?

Moth.  My Lord, I thinke more Art is shaddowed heere
Then any man in Germanie can shew
Except Earle Lassingbergh; and (in my conceipt)
This work was never wrought without his hand.

Flo.  Earle Lassingbergh!  Aye me, my jealous thoughts
Suspect a mischiefe which I must prevent.
Haunce, call Lucilia and the Painter strait,
Bid them come both t’attend us at our feast.—­
Is not your Grace yet wearie of this object? 
Ile shew your Lordship things more woorth the sight
Both for their substance and their curious Art.

Alber.  Thankes, good sir Flores.

Flo.  See, then, (my Lord) this Aggat that containes
The image of that Goddesse and her sonne,
Whom auncients held the Soveraignes of Love;
See naturally wrought out of the stone
(Besides the perfect shape of every limme,
Besides the wondrous life of her bright haire)
A waving mantle of celestiall blew
Imbroydering it selfe with flaming Starres.