Pea.  This occasion, sir; what will ye give me for it?

Flo.  Thou art a luckie fellow; let us see. 
Lord Cassimeere, this is the haplesse Jewell
That represents the form of Alberdure,
Given by Cornelia at our fatall feast. 
Where hadst thou this, my good and happy friend?

Pea.  Faith, sir, I met with the young prince all wet, who lookt as if he had been a quarter of a yeare drowned, yet prettelie come to himselfe, saving that he was so madde to change apparrell with me; in the pocket whereof, sir, I found this Jewell.

Flo.  O tell me trulie, lives prince Alberdure?

Pea.  He lives a my word, sir, but very poorely now, God help him.

Cass.  Is he recovered of his lunacie?

Pea.  I, by my faith, hee’s tame enough now, Ile warrant him.

Flo.  And where is he?

Pea.  Nay, that I cannot tell.

Cass.  Come, Flores, hast we quicklie to the Court With this most happie newes.

Flo.  Come, happie friend,
The most auspicious messenger to me
That ever greeted me in Pesants weeds.

[Exeunt.

Enter Doctor.

Mar.  I would I could meet M. Doctor Doddie, I have a tricke to gull the Asse withall; I christned him right Doctor Doddipole.  Heere he comes passing luckely; Ile counterfeit business with him in all poste haste possible.  Maister Doctor, Maister Doctor!

Doct.  Shesue, vat ayle de man?

Mar.  I love you, Maister Doctor, and therefore with all the speed I could possiblie I sought you out.

Doct.  Vell, vat?

Mar.  This, sir; the marriage which we thought made even now, betweene Earle Cassimere and Cornelia, was but a jest only to drawe you to marry her, for she doth exceedinglie dote upon you; and Flores her father hath invented that you are betrothed to her and is gone with a supplication to the Duke to enforce you to marrie her.

Doct.  Be garr, me thought no lesse.  O knave jeweller!  O vile begger! be my trot, Marshan, me studdie, me beat my braine, me invent, me dreame upon such a ting.

Mar.  I know, sir, your wit would forsee it.

Doct.  O by garr, tree, fore, five monthe agoe.

Mar.  Well, sir, y’ave a perilous wit, God blesse me out of the swinge of it, but you had best looke to it betimes, for Earl Cassimere hath made great friends against you.

Doct.  Marshan, me love, me embrace, me kisse de, will, be my trot.

Mar.  Well, sir, make haste to prevent the worste.

Doct.  I flie, Marshan, spit de Earle, spit de wenche, spit all bee garre.  Se dis, Marshan, de brave Braine be garre. [Exit.

Mar.  De brave braine by garre, not a whit of the flower of wit in it.  Ile to the Courte after him, and see how he abuses the Duke’s patience.