Alp. Flores, Ile interrupt the Dutchesse thankes
And for the present thou hast given to her
To strengthen her consent to my desires,
I recompence thee with a free release
Of all offences twixt thy selfe and me.

Flo.  I humblie thanke your excellence.

Kath.  But where is now unkinde Earle Lassinbergh,
That injures his faire love and makes her weare
This worthlesse garland?  Come, sir, make amends,
Or we will heere awarde you worthie penance.

Lass.  Madame, since her departure I have done More hartie penance then her hart could wish, And vowe hereafter to live ever hers.

Kat.  Then let us cast aside these forlorne wreathes, And with our better fortunes change our habits.

    Enter Doctor in poste, the Marchant following him.

Doct.  O stay, my Lorte, me pray you on knee von staie.

Alp.  What’s the matter, Doctor?

Doct.  O me bret be garr for haste.

Con.  What ayles the hastie Doctor?

Doct.  My Lort be garr he lyes falslie in his troate; Me proove by the duell dat he be the fallce knave.

Alp.  Who is it, man, with whom thou art so bold?

Doct.  My Lorte, if me make my contrack of marriage, if me be not as loose as de vide worlde, if me doe not alleadge—­

Alp.  I pray thee, man, what meanest thou?

Doct.  Be garr, enforme your grace vot he dare I will proove by good argument and raison dat he is de falce beggerlie Jeweller, dat I no point marrie Cornelia.  Vat say you now?

Cass.  My Lord, no doubt some man hath guld the Doctor, Supposing he should be enforste to wed her That is my wife and ever scorned him.

Doct.  Vat you say? de Marshan tell a me I marrie Cornelia spit my nose.

Alp.  The Marchant I perceive hath trimde you, Doctor.  And comb’d you smoothelie.  Faith, I can him thanke That thus revives our meeting with such mirth.

Doct.  O be bright de heaven, est a possible! and by heaven I be revenge dat vile Marshan, me make de medecine drie up de Sea, seaven towsand, towsand million d’stlloe, fife hundred, hundred dram Fuffian, Marquerite, Balestiae, Hematete, Cortemedian, Churchacholl, Pantasite, Petrofidem, Hynape, and by garr de hot Pepre; me make de vinde, de grease collicke puffe, blowe by garr, teare de Sayle, beate de maste, cracke de Ship in towsand towsand peeces!
          
                                   Exit.

Alp.  Farewell, gentle Doctor Doddipoll. 
And now, deere Ladie, let us celebrate
Our happie royall nuptials and my sonnes
With this our sweete and generall amitie
Which heaven smile on with his goulden eye.

Finis Actus Quinti & ultimi.

Imprinted at London by Thomas Creede, for Richard Olive, dwelling in Long-lane. 1600.